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Poetry?

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Post new topic   Reply to topic    BookTalk.org Forum Index -> A Passion for Poetry
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ralphinlaos ralphinlaos has been starred
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PostPosted: Mon May 05, 2008 3:00 am    Post subject: Reply with quote
I feel for you, DWill; I have the same problem. My computer is so slow. I have a dial-up modem which people say is rather antiquated, but it's all that is available here. Sometimes it takes me a half-hour to get on this site and then long minutes to go from thread to thread. I pay US$20 per month for unlimited use of the internet - is that about the norm?

I can't get on YouTube at all.

When you live in a country with only one choice for an internet server, you take what you can get - or go without. It's the same here with cable TV; only one provider, so again, take it or leave it.

Ralph
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PostPosted: Wed May 07, 2008 8:40 am    Post subject: Henry David Thoreau Reply with quote
From Walden:

The one who came from farthest to my lodge, through deepest snows and most dismal tempests, was a poet. A farmer, a hunter, a soldier, a reporter, even a philosopher, may be daunted; but nothing can deter a poet, for he is actuated by pure love. Who can predict his comings and goings? His business calls him out at all hours, even when doctors sleep.

--Henry David Thoreau
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PostPosted: Thu May 08, 2008 9:29 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote
Poets.org is a great website. I found a whole page of poems that have flowers in them. Here are the first 3 stanzas of To Earthward by Robert Frost. If you want the rest or more poems with flowers go to:

More Frost
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15731


Love at the lips was touch
As sweet as I could bear;
And once that seemed too much;
I lived on air

That crossed me from sweet things,
The flow of--was it musk
From hidden grapevine springs
Downhill at dusk?

I had the swirl and ache
From sprays of honeysuckle
That when they're gathered shake
Dew on the knuckle.

More flowers:
http://www.poets.org/page.php/prmID/491?utm_source=poetsupdate_050808& utm_medium=newsletter&utm_campaign=content&utm_content=flowerpoems
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PostPosted: Sun May 11, 2008 9:21 am    Post subject: Reply with quote
Here's a poem I'd written in a card I'd sent to a friend in 1997 and this morning she sent it back to me in an email.


Poetry (A Perspective on Life)

it sustains me, carries me into the morrow
And the next and the next
it floats me gently on an old inner tube on a hot July Afternoon
Cool & Shady
Trees dip their branches in for relief
like my own toes dragging in the water
leaving a long ripple that follows me
a wake, my imprint momentary
And gone like the water it is written on.
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PostPosted: Sun May 11, 2008 1:13 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote
Nice imagery, Saffron. Lovely poem which does exactly what it is meant to do - evoke memories and emotions in the reader.

Here's one of my favorites -

The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind happiness
not always being
so very much fun
if you don't mind a touch of hell
now and then
just when everything is fine
because even in heaven
they don't sing
all the time

The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind some people dying
all the time
or maybe only starving
some of the time
which isn't half bad
if it isn't you

Oh the world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't much mind
a few dead minds
in the higher places
or a bomb or two
now and then
on your upturned faces
or such other improprieties
as our Name Brand society
is prey to
with its men of distinction
and its men of extinction
and its priests
and other patrolmen

and its various segregations
and congressional investigations
and other constipations
that our fool flesh
is heir to

Yes the world is the best place of all
for a lot of such things as
making the fun scene
and making the love scene
and making the sad scene
and singing loves songs and having inspirations
and walking around
looking at everything
and smelling flowers
and goosing statues
and even thinking
and kissing people and
making babies and wearing pants
and waving hats and
dancing
and going swimming in rivers
on picnics
in the middle of the summer
and just generally
"living it up"
Yes
but then right in the middle of it
comes the smiling
mortician

THE WORLD IS A BEAUTIFUL PLACE
by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Now I have to see if I can find Shakespeare's "Seven Stages of Man;" I haven't read that in a long time.

Where's DWill? Studying or walking in the woods?

Ralph
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PostPosted: Sun May 11, 2008 2:25 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote
What superb poetry Saffron and Ralph - Thank you.

This is not nearly so beautifully worded, but I love it:-

She wears her halo rakishly
It leans somewhat awry
But sinners count her as a friend...
While 'good' folk pass her by.
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PostPosted: Sun May 11, 2008 2:31 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote
Penelope wrote:
What superb poetry Saffron and Ralph - Thank you.

.


And Ralph:
Quote:
Nice imagery, Saffron. Lovely poem which does exactly what it is meant to do - evoke memories and emotions in the reader.


Thank you both for your kind words. I am trying to be brave enough to share my own poetry and you've both made it a bit easier.

Saffron
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PostPosted: Sun May 11, 2008 4:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote
Saffron I found the Duckpond Poem:

Daddy Fell into the Pond
a poem by Alfred Noyes


Everyone grumbled. The sky was grey.
We had nothing to do and nothing to say.
We were nearing the end of a dismal day,
And then there seemed to be nothing beyond,
Then
Daddy fell into the pond!

And everyone's face grew merry and bright,
And Timothy danced for sheer delight.
"Give me the camera, quick, oh quick!
He's crawling out of the duckweed!" Click!

Then the gardener suddenly slapped his knee,
And doubled up, shaking silently,
And the ducks all quacked as if they were daft,
And it sounded as if the old drake laughed.
Oh, there wasn't a thing that didn't respond
When
Daddy Fell into the pond!

Alfred Noyes
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PostPosted: Sun May 11, 2008 4:17 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote
This is our family's top favourite - I hope Ophelia reads this:::::

The Lesson


Chaos ruled OK in the classroom
as bravely the teacher walked in
the nooligans ignored him
his voice was lost in the din

"The theme for today is violence
and homework will be set
I'm going to teach you a lesson
one that you'll never forget"

He picked on a boy who was shouting
and throttled him then and there
then garrotted the girl behind him
(the one with grotty hair)

Then sword in hand he hacked his way
between the chattering rows
"First come, first severed" he declared
"fingers, feet or toes"

He threw the sword at a latecomer
it struck with deadly aim
then pulling out a shotgun
he continued with his game

The first blast cleared the backrow
(where those who skive hang out)
they collapsed like rubber dinghies
when the plug's pulled out

"Please may I leave the room sir?"
a trembling vandal enquired
"Of course you may" said teacher
put the gun to his temple and fired

The Head popped a head round the doorway
to see why a din was being made
nodded understandingly
then tossed in a grenade

And when the ammo was well spent
with blood on every chair
Silence shuffled forward
with its hands up in the air

The teacher surveyed the carnage
the dying and the dead
He waggled a finger severely
"Now let that be a lesson" he said

Roger McGough
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PostPosted: Sun May 11, 2008 9:06 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote
ralphinlaos wrote:

Where's DWill? Studying or walking in the woods?

Ralph


My guess is walking in the woods.
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PostPosted: Mon May 12, 2008 8:38 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote
Saffron wrote:
ralphinlaos wrote:

Where's DWill? Studying or walking in the woods?

Ralph


My guess is walking in the woods.


So, this for Will walking in the woods....

From you have I been absent in the spring... (Sonnet 9Cool
by William Shakespeare

From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odor and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew.
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.
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PostPosted: Fri May 23, 2008 8:01 am    Post subject: Maya Angelou Reply with quote
In 1986 at Ohio University, I saw Maya Angelou read. What a powerful presence. The book she had just published was And Still I Rise. I was 4 months pregnant at the time and once the baby arrived poetry went right out the window, along with an entire academic career. Twenty-one years later the child writes her own poetry and I am finally back to it myself. Last week at a book sale I found a copy of Maya Angelou's And Still I Rise. Here is one of my favorites.

Remembrance

Your hands easy
weight, teasing the bees
hived in my hair, your smile at the
slope of my cheek, On the
occasion, you press
above me, glowing, spouting
readiness, mystery rapes
my reason.

When you have withdrawn
your self and the magic, when
only the smell of your
love lingers between
my breasts, then, only
then, can I greedily consume
your presence.


There are two observations in this poem that I really appreciate. The first is the fact that the smell of another person can stay on your own body and that you can distinguish it from your own. And I do not just mean the smell of sex. I find this amazing. Those people I have loved the best in my life, I have also had at least one experience of noticing and loving the way they smelled. My daughters always tell me they like the way I smell and they like to be in my bed because they say it smells like me.

The second is the pleasure of remembering an encounter - especially a memory enhanced by a lingering scent. I have found as much joy in going over in my mind a memory as the actual event. I'll go a step further to say that I think that falling in love is about this very thing. The stroking of memory inflames the growing feelings to the point of, well the craziness that is "falling in love". I say craziness because we all know that falling in love is not about reality. Memories are not accurate renditions of events and then focusing solely on the pleasure experienced distorts the reality of the living breathing other person. I suppose that is how we sometimes find ourselves in the situation of asking, how did I end up with this person? More incredible is to come to the other side of falling in love and find that you are still in love.
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PostPosted: Fri May 23, 2008 10:51 am    Post subject: Reply with quote
Hi Saffron -

Maya Angelou has certainly lead an interesting life, hasn't she? She's reinvented herself more than once and has become one of our elder statesmen (stateswomen? I don't think so). I've always admired her, long before Oprah discovered and touted her. Remember the poem she wrote and recited at President Kennedy's inauguration? The River - something like that.

She lives not too far from you, doesn't she? And, she's a Hilary supporter; I wonder what Oprah thinks of that.

"Remembrance;" a lovely poem and immediately recognizable as from Maya Angelou.

Ralph
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PostPosted: Fri May 23, 2008 10:52 am    Post subject: Reply with quote
Saffron...that is a very sexy poem.....and I am past the age when I should be affected by such stuff.....but who cares about 'should'.

Pheromones.......you cannot always detect the smell of some one...yet the smell affects us....that is not fair....nature is not fair!!!

But, it keeps us turned on....to life....well, to the life-force.

Sound does it too.......I am thinking of the BBC production of 'The Forsyte Saga'.....John Galsworthy wrote the character of Soames, as a letcherous old man....but the BBC cast Eric Porter in the role....Eric Porter had a voice like 'Port Wine' and I could never understand why Irene didn't fancy him....because I did (fancy him).....Later, when I read the novel, the BBC production ruined it for me....because Soames was always Eric Porter, with THAT voice.

So, we've covered, smell, sound, ......sight, is obvious.....I look at Johnny Depp...and I wish I was young again.....taste and touch are left......perhaps we shouldn't go there.....Saffron..... Laughing
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PostPosted: Fri May 23, 2008 11:20 am    Post subject: Reply with quote
Penelope, my spine tingles! So, what of taste? Anyone? I've got touch covered. Years ago I wrote a poem called Mango Passion for a lover I had once. I'll see if I can find it.

I love the BBC production of 'The Forsyte Saga' too! I also think Eric Porter was miscast. His acting was wonderful but, I think you are right about the voice.
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