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Author Topic: Post a favorite poem!  (Read 78436 times)

Carl-E

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #100 on: 24 Feb 2013, 16:09 »

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
   This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
   To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
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Redball

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #101 on: 24 Feb 2013, 16:26 »

Well, death has been a part of my life in the last couple of years, so my first thought was that I would read and parse, read and parse. Then I came on this analysis, so perhaps I'll just read and re-read. Thanks for posting, and I should check this thread more often.
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jwhouk

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #102 on: 24 Feb 2013, 16:55 »

I waited patiently for the Lord
He inclined and heard my cry
He lift me up out of the pit
Out of the mire and clay

I will sing, sing a new song
I will sing, sing a new song

How long to sing this song?
How long to sing this song?
How long...how long...how long...
How long...to sing this song

He set my feet upon a rock
And made my footsteps firm
Many will see
Many will see and hear

I will sing, sing a new song
I will sing, sing a new song

How long to sing this song?
How long to sing this song?
How long...how long...how long...
How long...to sing this song...
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Carl-E

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #103 on: 25 Feb 2013, 00:23 »

Well, death has been a part of my life in the last couple of years, so my first thought was that I would read and parse, read and parse. Then I came on this analysis, so perhaps I'll just read and re-read. Thanks for posting, and I should check this thread more often.

I fell in love with this sonnet in high school - I guess I was a bit proto-goth.  It becomes more my favorite as the years pass. 

And I saw that analysis once.  Quite scholarly and well done, but there's  reason I dislike poetic analysis.  I prefer letting the poem speak for itself. 

Confession time;  a few years ago, living away from home, I started something with a girl half my age.  It never went anywhere, but I couldn't get sonnet 73 out of my head...

Stupid me. 
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Redball

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #104 on: 25 Feb 2013, 08:15 »

My own confession: During the first dozen of 40-plus years with Clara, I had sex with three women on four occasions. I had some feelings for just one of them. Except for their timing, the acts didn't bother me as much as that I propositioned several other women later on. Lucky for me, they all declined. The timing? They were at vulnerable points in the marriage; the birth of our daughter in the beginning, and Clara's first episode with cancer later on. And now I think I'm done, Viagra-proof ED. Maybe I'll find out if I ever acquire a girl friend.
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taverniti

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #105 on: 25 Feb 2013, 17:34 »

To This Day by Shane Koyczan
To This Day
When I was a kid
I used to think that pork chops and karate chops
were the same thing
I thought they were both pork chops
and because my grandmother thought it was cute
and because they were my favorite
she let me keep doing it
not really a big deal
one day
before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees
I fell out of a tree
and bruised the right side of my body
I didn’t want to tell my grandmother about it
because I was afraid I’d get in trouble
for playing somewhere that I shouldn’t have been
a few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise
and I got sent to the principal’s office
from there I was sent to another small room
with a really nice lady
who asked me all kinds of questions
about my life at home
I saw no reason to lie
as far as I was concerned
life was pretty good
I told her “whenever I’m sad
my grandmother gives me karate chops”
this led to a full scale investigation
and I was removed from the house for three days
until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises
news of this silly little story quickly spread through the school
and I earned my first nickname
pork chopto this day
I hate pork chops
I’m not the only kid
who grew up this way
surrounded by people who used to say
that rhyme about sticks and stones
as if broken bones
hurt more than the names we got called
and we got called them all
so we grew up believing no one
would ever fall in love with us
that we’d be lonely forever
that we’d never meet someone
to make us feel like the sun
was something they built for us
in their tool shed
so broken heart strings bled the blues
as we tried to empty ourselves
so we would feel nothing
don’t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone
that an ingrown life
is something surgeons can cut away
that there’s no way for it to metastasize
it does
she was eight years old
our first day of grade three
when she got called ugly
we both got moved to the back of the class
so we would stop get bombarded by spit balls
but the school halls were a battleground
where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day
we used to stay inside for recess
because outside was worse
outside we’d have to rehearse running away
or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there
in grade five they taped a sign to her desk
that read beware of dog
to this day
despite a loving husband
she doesn’t think she’s beautiful
because of a birthmark
that takes up a little less than half of her face
kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer
that someone tried to erase
but couldn’t quite get the job done
and they’ll never understand
that she’s raising two kids
whose definition of beauty
begins with the word mom
because they see her heart
before they see her skin
that she’s only ever always been amazing
he
was a broken branch
grafted onto a different family tree
adopted
but not because his parents opted for a different destiny
he was three when he became a mixed drink
of one part left alone
and two parts tragedy
started therapy in 8th grade
had a personality made up of tests and pills
lived like the uphill's were mountains
and the downhill's were cliffs
four fifths suicidal
a tidal wave of anti depressants
and an adolescence of being called popper
one part because of the pills
and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty
he tried to kill himself in grade ten
when a kid who still had his mom and dad
had the audacity to tell him “get over it” as if depression
is something that can be remedied
by any of the contents found in a first aid kit
to this day
he is a stick on TNT lit from both ends
could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends
in the moments before it’s about to fall
and despite an army of friends
who all call him an inspiration
he remains a conversation piece between people
who can’t understand
sometimes becoming drug free
has less to do with addiction
and more to do with sanity
we weren’t the only kids who grew up this way
to this day
kids are still being called names
the classics were
hey stupid
hey spaz
seems like each school has an arsenal of names
getting updated every year
and if a kid breaks in a school
and no one around chooses to hear
do they make a sound?
are they just the background noise
of a soundtrack stuck on repeat
when people say things like
kids can be cruel?
every school was a big top circus tent
and the pecking order went
from acrobats to lion tamers
from clowns to carnies
all of these were miles ahead of who we were
we were freaks
lobster claw boys and bearded ladies
oddities
juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire spin the bottle
trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal
but at night
while the others slept
we kept walking the tightrope
it was practice
and yeah
some of us fell
but I want to tell them
that all of thisssss
is just debris
leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought
we used to be
and if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself
GET A BETTER MIRRIOR
LOOK A LITTLE CLOSER
STARE A LITTLE LONGER
because there’s something inside you
that made you keep trying
despite everyone who told you to quit
you built a cast around your broken heart
and signed it yourself
you signed it
“they were wrong”
because maybe you didn’t belong to a group or a click
maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything
maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth
to show and tell but never told
because how can you hold your ground
if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it
you have to believe that they were wrong
they have to be wrong
why else would we still be here?
we grew up learning to cheer on the underdog
because we see ourselves in them
we stem from a root planted in the belief
that we are not what we were called we are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on a highway
and if in some way we are
don’t worry
we only got out to walk and get gas
we are graduating members from the class of
WE MADE IT!
not the faded echoes of voices crying out
names will never hurt me
of course
they did
but our lives will only ever always
continue to be
a balancing act
that has less to do with pain
and more to do with beauty.
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Redball

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #106 on: 25 Feb 2013, 19:35 »

Welcome, new member! That's an awesome first post!
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Carl-E

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #107 on: 23 Mar 2013, 10:56 »

I listen to "The Writer's Almanac" which has a daily poem ("A Good One").  This came on the other day.  It's for all of us who have found themselves repeating the patterns of life despite their better natures. 

The Sometime Sportsman Greets the Spring
~ John Updike

When winter's glaze is lifted from the greens,
And cups are freshly cut, and birdies sing,
Triumphantly the stifled golfer preens
In cleats and slacks once more, and checks his swing.

This year, he vows, his head will steady be,
His weight-shift smooth, his grip and stance ideal;
And so they are, until upon the tee
Befall the old contortions of the real.

So, too, the tennis-player, torpid from
Hibernal months of television sports,
Perfects his serve and feels his knees become
Sheer muscle in their unaccustomed shorts.

Right arm relaxed, the left controls the toss,
Which shall be high, so that the racket face
Shall at a certain angle sweep across
The floated sphere with gutty strings—an ace!

The mind's eye sees it all until upon
The courts of life the faulty way we played
In other summers rolls back with the sun.
Hope springs eternally, but spring hopes fade.
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SethDeAlba

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #108 on: 24 Mar 2013, 22:09 »

I wrote this one and it's my favorite (so far), I hope its ok if I post it here.

Dancing seriously,
Bathed in moonlight,
Guarding the path Joyously,
while awaiting the travelers of twilight,
smiling as she shows the way,
serious in her duties,
while helping those who've lost their way,
She dances.
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GarandMarine

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #109 on: 24 Mar 2013, 22:53 »

The Young British Soldier
Rudyard Kipling

When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East
'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast,
An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased
   Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier.
      Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
      Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
      Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
         So-oldier OF the Queen!
 
Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,
You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay,
An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may:
   A soldier what's fit for a soldier.
      Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . .
 
First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts,
For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts --
Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts --
   An' it's bad for the young British soldier.
      Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . .
 
When the cholera comes -- as it will past a doubt --
Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout,
For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,
   An' it crumples the young British soldier.
      Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . .
 
But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead:
You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said:
If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead,
   An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
      Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . .
 
If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind;
Be handy and civil, and then you will find
   That it's beer for the young British soldier.
      Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . .
 
Now, if you must marry, take care she is old --
A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told,
For beauty won't help if your rations is cold,
   Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.
      'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . .
 
If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath
To shoot when you catch 'em -- you'll swing, on my oath! --
Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er:  that's Hell for them both,
   An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier.
      Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . .
 
When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck,
Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck,
Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck
   And march to your front like a soldier.
      Front, front, front like a soldier . . .
 
When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch;
She's human as you are -- you treat her as sich,
   An' she'll fight for the young British soldier.
      Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . .
 
When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine,
The guns o' the enemy wheel into line,
Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine,
   For noise never startles the soldier.
      Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . .
 
If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
Remember it's ruin to run from a fight:
So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,
   And wait for supports like a soldier.
      Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . .
 
When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
   An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.

      Go, go, go like a soldier,
      Go, go, go like a soldier,
      Go, go, go like a soldier,
         So-oldier of the Queen!


I love Kipling, that last verse in particular grabs me. for some reason
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I built the walls that make my life a prison, I built them all and cannot be forgiven... ...Sold my soul to carry your vendetta, So let me go before you can regret it, You've made your choice and now it's come to this, But that's price you pay when you're a monster with no name.

Carl-E

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #110 on: 27 Mar 2013, 08:10 »

Wonder why...

As Mark Twain has been credited with saying, "History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme."
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GarandMarine

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #111 on: 27 Mar 2013, 09:00 »

Wonder why...

As Mark Twain has been credited with saying, "History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme."

I like the quote from Gundam Wing, Endless Waltz: “History is just like an endless waltz: the first three beats of War, Peace and Revolution continue on forever…”

Edit:



    Bona Na Croin

    “Neither your collar nor crown Shall I wear — my nose not brown, Nor I some clown in your court, In chains brought — a wolf to town.

    By no oath bound to your King, To my Gods alone I sing, Grey shadow hiding from sight To keep the rite from waning.

    In red gold you dress these slaves, What throne can forget Nine Waves? In deep caves our flame I shield, Never to yield to such knaves.

    Collars serve to reign dogs in, Quell their nerve with shades and sin. Wild wolf’s kin such bangles scorn, Free-born I stay, son of Fionn.

    My brothers hunted, slain, skinned. Yet still my cries ride the wind, Numbers thinned, but still we wait, For your hate, we have not sinned.

    Now the lone hunters take heed, Upon the Great Stag we feed, Blood for mead. His death our life, Ends this strife, stirs this dried seed.

    The old packs come together, Ties that fear cannot sever, Endeavour in pride to stand In the Wolf Land, forever.”

    ~ This is the poem it came from, I’m not sure of the author, but its meaning is defiance to the British rule in Ireland. (via http://en.allexperts.com/q/Medieval-History-2856/f/phrase.htm)
« Last Edit: 30 Apr 2013, 04:32 by GarandMarine »
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I built the walls that make my life a prison, I built them all and cannot be forgiven... ...Sold my soul to carry your vendetta, So let me go before you can regret it, You've made your choice and now it's come to this, But that's price you pay when you're a monster with no name.

Stoon

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #112 on: 24 Aug 2014, 23:53 »

NSFW
Whoever posted this video got the title wrong. The correct title is Apology.

I love the following poem:
I wish I had that eroticism and eloquence.
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Barmymoo

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #113 on: 27 Aug 2014, 01:24 »

My new favourite poem:

I never said I loved you, John:
Why will you tease me day by day,
And wax a weariness to think upon
With always "do" and "pray"?

You Know I never loved you, John;
No fault of mine made me your toast:
Why will you haunt me with a face as wan
As shows an hour-old ghost?

I dare say Meg or Moll would take
Pity upon you, if you'd ask:
And pray don't remain single for my sake
Who can't perform the task.

I have no heart?-Perhaps I have not;
But then you're mad to take offence
That don't give you what I have not got:
Use your common sense.

Let bygones be bygones:
Don't call me false, who owed not to be true:
I'd rather answer "No" to fifty Johns
Than answer "Yes" to you.

Let's mar our plesant days no more,
Song-birds of passage, days of youth:
Catch at today, forget the days before:
I'll wink at your untruth.

Let us strike hands as hearty friends;
No more, no less; and friendship's good:
Only don't keep in veiw ulterior ends, And points not understood

In open treaty. Rise above
Quibbles and shuffling off and on:
Here's friendship for you if you like; but love,-
No, thank you, John.


Christina Rossetti
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There's this really handy "other thing" I'm going to write as a footnote to my abstract that I can probably explore these issues in. I think I'll call it my "dissertation."

sitnspin

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #114 on: 27 Aug 2014, 03:26 »

Ite, caldi sospiri, al freddo core;
Rompete il ghiaccio che pietá¡ contende,
E se prego mortale al ciel s'intende,
Morte, o merce sia fine al mio dolore

Translation:
Go, burning sighs, into that frozen heart;
Shatter the ice that now with pity vies,
And if a mortal prayer can reach the skies,
Let death or mercy end at last this smart.
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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #115 on: 29 Aug 2014, 07:31 »

Shane Koyczan is pretty awesome.
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idontunderstand

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #116 on: 30 Aug 2014, 05:43 »

Not really a favorite poem but feels much too relevant to the situation in Sweden and in plenty of Europe right now:

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me — and there was no one left to speak for me.
-Martin Niemöller
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KOK

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #117 on: 12 Sep 2014, 11:56 »

Den der vil forbedre verden, kan med held
starte i dens centrum og begynde med sig selv

Yes, it rhymes.  The final letter in each line is not heard. Not actually silent, they both make the e short, but they do not make a d- or v-sound.

Translation:

Who wants to improve the world can with success
starts at its center and begin with her-/himself
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Stoon

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #118 on: 01 Nov 2014, 22:37 »

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BeoPuppy

Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #119 on: 04 Nov 2014, 00:05 »

alternate names for black boys
BY DANEZ SMITH
1.   smoke above the burning bush
2.   archnemesis of summer night
3.   first son of soil
4.   coal awaiting spark & wind
5.   guilty until proven dead
6.   oil heavy starlight
7.   monster until proven ghost
8.   gone
9.   phoenix who forgets to un-ash
10. going, going, gone
11. gods of shovels & black veils
12. what once passed for kindling
13. fireworks at dawn
14. brilliant, shadow hued coral
15. (I thought to leave this blank
       but who am I to name us nothing?)
16. prayer who learned to bite & sprint
17. a mother's joy & clutched breath
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Edguy

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #120 on: 04 Nov 2014, 06:36 »

I read "Post a favorite porn!" every time I see this thread. Is that just me?
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I dunno..

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #121 on: 04 Nov 2014, 07:22 »

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
I'm gonna break your face

Stoon

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #122 on: 27 Dec 2014, 23:03 »

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #123 on: 28 Dec 2014, 10:28 »

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #124 on: 31 Jan 2016, 19:58 »

This thread is too good to let die.

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #125 on: 31 Jan 2016, 20:46 »

Schlußstück
Rainer Maria Rilke

Der Tod ist groß,
Wir sind die Seinen 
lachenden Munds.     
Wenn wir uns mitten im Leben meinen,         
wagt er zu weinen             
mitten in uns.   

Death is immense.
We find ourselves in its
laughing mouth.
When we think ourselves in the midst of life
he dares to cry
in the midst of us.

The translation may be a bit wonky, but it's the best I could work out from various sources.

It's on my mind primarily because it's one of the poems used by Shostakovich for his 14th symphony.
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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #126 on: 01 Feb 2016, 04:39 »

赋得江边柳     Poem for the willows by the river

   鱼玄机                        Yu Xuanji

翠色连荒岸,  Jade’s colour joins the river’s barren banks;
烟姿入远楼。  smoky clouds dance themselves into distant mansions.
影铺秋水面,  Reflections spread on the surface of the autumn river;
花落钓人头。  flowers fall on the heads of fishermen.
根老藏鱼窟,  Old roots hide the haunts of fishes;
枝低系客舟。  branches bend to moor visiting boats.
萧萧风雨夜,  The night sighs and sighs with wind and rain,
惊梦复添愁。  and unsettling dreams return more sadness to me.
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"I would rather have questions that can't be answered, than answers that can't be questioned." Richard Feynman

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Re: Post a favorite poem!
« Reply #127 on: 01 Feb 2016, 05:36 »

I love beat writers, my favorite as far as poetry is Gregory Corso

Writ on the Steps of Puerto Rican Harlem

There’s a truth limits man
A truth prevents his going any farther   
The world is changing
The world knows it’s changing
Heavy is the sorrow of the day
The old have the look of doom
The young mistake their fate in that look   
That is truth
But it isn’t all truth

Life has meaning
And I do not know the meaning   
Even when I felt it were meaningless
I hoped and prayed and sought a meaning
It wasn’t all frolic poesy
There were dues to pay   
Summoning Death and God   
I’d a wild dare to tackle Them
Death proved meaningless without Life
Yes the world is changing   
But Death remains the same   
It takes man away from Life   
The only meaning he knows   
And usually it is a sad business   
This Death

I’d an innocence I’d a seriousness
I’d a humor save me from amateur philosophy
I am able to contradict my beliefs   
I am able able
Because I want to know the meaning of everything
Yet sit I like a brokenness   
Moaning: Oh what responsibility   
I put on thee Gregory
Death and God
Hard hard it’s hard

I learned life were no dream
I learned truth deceived
Man is not God   
Life is a century   
Death an instant
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