What poems come to our minds? - Page 3

Trilby · 04-05-2006, 08:13 AM

Crow's Nerve Fails

Crow, feeling his brain slip,
Finds his every feather the fossil of a murder.

Who murdered all these?
These living dead, that root in his nerves and his blood
Till he is visibly black?

How can he fly from his feathers?
And why have they homed on him?

Is he the archive of their accusations?
Or their ghostly purpose, their pining vengeance?
Or their unforgiven prisoner?

He cannot be forgiven.

His prison is the earth. Clothed in his conviction,
Trying to remember his crimes

Heavily he flies.

Ted Hughes

Trilby · 04-05-2006, 08:17 AM

CROW BLACKER THAN EVER

Ted Hughes

When God, disgusted with man,

Turned towards heaven,

And man, disgusted with God,

Turned towards Eve,

Things looked like falling apart.

But Crow Crow

Crow nailed them together,

Nailing heaven and earth together --

So man cried, but with God's voice.

And God bled, but with man's blood.

Then heaven and earth creaked at the joint

Which became gangrenous and stank --

A horror beyond redemption.

The agony did not diminish.

Man could not be man nor God God.

The agony

Grew.

Crow

Grinned

Crying: "This is my Creation,"

Flying the black flag of himself.

thrillhouse · 04-05-2006, 11:19 AM

There is a Beautiful Creature
Living in a hole you have dug.

So at night
I set fruit and grains
And little pots of wine and milk
Beside your soft earthen mounds,

And I often sing.

But still, my dear,
You do not come out.

I have fallen in love with Someone
Who hides inside you.

We should talk about this problem---

Otherwise,
I will never leave you alone.

~ Hafiz

Kitsune · 04-05-2006, 12:21 PM

Via BoingBoing:

I take it you already know
Of tough and bough and cough and dough?
Others may stumble, but not you,
On hiccough, thorough, lough and through?
Well done! And now you wish, perhaps,
To learn of less familiar traps?
Beware of heard, a dreadful word
That looks like beard and sounds like bird,
And dead: it's said like bed, not bead -
For goodness sake don't call it deed!
Watch out for meat and great and threat
(They rhyme with suite and straight and debt).

More of those, here.

footfootfoot · 04-05-2006, 09:58 PM

A beetling woman named pridgetts
had a violent abhorrence of midgets
off the end of a wharf
she once pushed a dwarf
whose truncation reduced her to fidgets

Edward Gorey

footfootfoot · 04-05-2006, 09:59 PM

And Bri, you're welcome. Anything to make you happy.

well, nearly.

Trilby · 04-07-2006, 06:01 PM

thanks, footfootfoot

I printed it out and stuck it on the fridge door. The part I like best is the 'you don't have to be good' part. I can do that!

lumberjim · 04-07-2006, 06:43 PM

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"><tbody><tr><td>The Saddest Poem
</td> <td width="120">
</td> </tr> </tbody></table> <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"><tbody><tr><td valign="top" width="20"> </td> <td valign="top"> I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.

Pablo Neruda </td></tr></tbody></table>

lumberjim · 04-07-2006, 06:51 PM

<table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="90%"><tbody><tr><td align="center">When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">I all alone beweep my outcast state</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">And look upon myself and curse my fate,</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">With what I most enjoy contented least;</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">Haply I think on thee, and then my state,</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">Like to the lark at break of day arising</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

W. Shakespeare
</td></tr> </tbody></table>

wolf · 04-08-2006, 01:55 AM

Although I am very well aware that LumberJim is a man of surprising depth for a car salesman ... errrr, automotive finance manager, but every now and again I wonder if Jinx forgot to log into her own account.

lumberjim · 04-16-2006, 09:02 AM

eh. you want me.

Griff · 04-16-2006, 09:33 AM

[Steven]Dude posts like a lady![/Tyler]

Trilby · 04-16-2006, 09:44 AM

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

--Rudyard Kipling

All the above is predicated by a big IF. So, don't get too excited.

skysidhe · 04-16-2006, 10:00 AM

The Twilight Is My Robe

Unto you I whisper
The wildest dreams

In the coldness of night

Shrouded in crystals
Through a frosty dusk
Souls of the fullmoon awaits
Their shadows ablaze

We are all bending
Our tired leaves over your empty shell
In the sign of true esteem
Are you beloved lord
Sighing deep under these waterfalls?

The birds of the sun
Seperates these dark clouds
While the winds of winter sleeps gently around
I am sworn to the oath
To breathe...

At the waters I dwell
The waves are still whispering
Ancient lullabies
I die....
While our mystic brothers still seek

Under your command I will obey
In my vision
You are the embodiment of pure freedom
But through my eyes you are made of stone

Opeth

Cyclefrance · 04-17-2006, 05:05 PM

A short poem I can definitely relate to from Mr Robert Rankin (I've just reached the point in his book, 'Sex and Drugs and Sausage Rolls', where the Cellar gets a mention BTW - how odd....)

BAD MEMORY

By the bound Victorian gasogene.
By the black slate memory board.
By the swish French cooking calendar.
By the shutters I secured.
By the rows of hanging plant pots.
By the slightly dripping fridge.
By the wibbly wobbly worktop.
By the dust along the ridge.
By the rack of grey enamelware.
By the strangely angled shelf.
By the larder door that does not close
That I also fitted myself.
By the celing lights that don't light up.
By the dimmer that does not dim.
By the waste disposal unit
That bit my uncle Jim.
By the nasty Kenwood blender.
By the red tiles on the floor.
I'm obviously in my kitchen.

But what did I come in here for?

++

04-05-2006, 08:13 AM	#1
Trilby Slattern of the Swail Join Date: Jul 2004 Posts: 15,654	Crow's Nerve Fails Crow, feeling his brain slip, Finds his every feather the fossil of a murder. Who murdered all these? These living dead, that root in his nerves and his blood Till he is visibly black? How can he fly from his feathers? And why have they homed on him? Is he the archive of their accusations? Or their ghostly purpose, their pining vengeance? Or their unforgiven prisoner? He cannot be forgiven. His prison is the earth. Clothed in his conviction, Trying to remember his crimes Heavily he flies. Ted Hughes __________________ In Barrie's play and novel, the roles of fairies are brief: they are allies to the Lost Boys, the source of fairy dust and ...They are portrayed as dangerous, whimsical and extremely clever but quite hedonistic. "Shall I give you a kiss?" Peter asked and, jerking an acorn button off his coat, solemnly presented it to her. —James Barrie Wimminfolk they be tricksy. - ZenGum

04-05-2006, 08:17 AM	#2
Trilby Slattern of the Swail Join Date: Jul 2004 Posts: 15,654	CROW BLACKER THAN EVER Ted Hughes When God, disgusted with man, Turned towards heaven, And man, disgusted with God, Turned towards Eve, Things looked like falling apart. But Crow Crow Crow nailed them together, Nailing heaven and earth together -- So man cried, but with God's voice. And God bled, but with man's blood. Then heaven and earth creaked at the joint Which became gangrenous and stank -- A horror beyond redemption. The agony did not diminish. Man could not be man nor God God. The agony Grew. Crow Grinned Crying: "This is my Creation," Flying the black flag of himself. __________________ In Barrie's play and novel, the roles of fairies are brief: they are allies to the Lost Boys, the source of fairy dust and ...They are portrayed as dangerous, whimsical and extremely clever but quite hedonistic. "Shall I give you a kiss?" Peter asked and, jerking an acorn button off his coat, solemnly presented it to her. —James Barrie Wimminfolk they be tricksy. - ZenGum

04-05-2006, 11:19 AM	#3
thrillhouse spoonful of bologna Join Date: Mar 2006 Location: salvation holdout central Posts: 333	There is a Beautiful Creature Living in a hole you have dug. So at night I set fruit and grains And little pots of wine and milk Beside your soft earthen mounds, And I often sing. But still, my dear, You do not come out. I have fallen in love with Someone Who hides inside you. We should talk about this problem--- Otherwise, I will never leave you alone. ~ Hafiz __________________ i'm drinking stars

04-05-2006, 09:58 PM	#5
footfootfoot To shreds, you say? Join Date: Aug 2004 Location: in the house and on the street-how many, many feet we meet! Posts: 18,449	A beetling woman named pridgetts had a violent abhorrence of midgets off the end of a wharf she once pushed a dwarf whose truncation reduced her to fidgets Edward Gorey __________________ The internet is a hateful stew of vomit you can never take completely seriously. - Her Fobs

04-05-2006, 09:59 PM	#6
footfootfoot To shreds, you say? Join Date: Aug 2004 Location: in the house and on the street-how many, many feet we meet! Posts: 18,449	And Bri, you're welcome. Anything to make you happy. well, nearly. __________________ The internet is a hateful stew of vomit you can never take completely seriously. - Her Fobs

04-05-2006, 12:21 PM	#4
Kitsune still eats dirt Join Date: Sep 2003 Location: Tampa, FL Posts: 3,031	Via BoingBoing: I take it you already know Of tough and bough and cough and dough? Others may stumble, but not you, On hiccough, thorough, lough and through? Well done! And now you wish, perhaps, To learn of less familiar traps? Beware of heard, a dreadful word That looks like beard and sounds like bird, And dead: it's said like bed, not bead - For goodness sake don't call it deed! Watch out for meat and great and threat (They rhyme with suite and straight and debt). More of those, here.

04-07-2006, 06:01 PM	#7
Trilby Slattern of the Swail Join Date: Jul 2004 Posts: 15,654	thanks, footfootfoot I printed it out and stuck it on the fridge door. The part I like best is the 'you don't have to be good' part. I can do that! __________________ In Barrie's play and novel, the roles of fairies are brief: they are allies to the Lost Boys, the source of fairy dust and ...They are portrayed as dangerous, whimsical and extremely clever but quite hedonistic. "Shall I give you a kiss?" Peter asked and, jerking an acorn button off his coat, solemnly presented it to her. —James Barrie Wimminfolk they be tricksy. - ZenGum

04-07-2006, 06:43 PM	#8
lumberjim I can hear my ears Join Date: Oct 2003 Posts: 25,571	<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"><tbody><tr><td>The Saddest Poem </td> <td width="120"> </td> </tr> </tbody></table> <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"><tbody><tr><td valign="top" width="20"> </td> <td valign="top"> I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars, and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance." The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights like this, I held her in my arms. I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky. She loved me, sometimes I loved her. How could I not have loved her large, still eyes? I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her. To hear the immense night, more immense without her. And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass. What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her. The night is full of stars and she is not with me. That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away. My soul is lost without her. As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her. My heart searches for her and she is not with me. The same night that whitens the same trees. We, we who were, we are the same no longer. I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her. My voice searched the wind to touch her ear. Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once belonged to my kisses. Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes. I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her. Love is so short and oblivion so long. Because on nights like this I held her in my arms, my soul is lost without her. Although this may be the last pain she causes me, and this may be the last poem I write for her. Pablo Neruda </td></tr></tbody></table> __________________ This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality Embrace this moment, remember We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion ~MJKeenan

04-07-2006, 06:51 PM	#9
lumberjim I can hear my ears Join Date: Oct 2003 Posts: 25,571	<table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="90%"><tbody><tr><td align="center">When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">I all alone beweep my outcast state</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">And look upon myself and curse my fate,</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">With what I most enjoy contented least;</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">Haply I think on thee, and then my state,</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">Like to the lark at break of day arising</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings</td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center">That then I scorn to change my state with kings. W. Shakespeare </td></tr> </tbody></table> __________________ This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality Embrace this moment, remember We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion ~MJKeenan

04-08-2006, 01:55 AM	#10
wolf lobber of scimitars Join Date: Jul 2001 Location: Phila Burbs Posts: 20,774	Although I am very well aware that LumberJim is a man of surprising depth for a car salesman ... errrr, automotive finance manager, but every now and again I wonder if Jinx forgot to log into her own account. __________________ wolf eht htiw og "Conspiracies are the norm, not the exception." --G. Edward Griffin The Creature from Jekyll Island High Priestess of the Church of the Whale Penis

04-16-2006, 09:02 AM	#11
lumberjim I can hear my ears Join Date: Oct 2003 Posts: 25,571	eh. you want me. __________________ This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality Embrace this moment, remember We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion ~MJKeenan

04-16-2006, 09:33 AM	#12
Griff still says videotape Join Date: Feb 2001 Posts: 26,813	[Steven]Dude posts like a lady![/Tyler] __________________ If you would only recognize that life is hard, things would be so much easier for you. - Louis D. Brandeis

04-16-2006, 09:44 AM	#13
Trilby Slattern of the Swail Join Date: Jul 2004 Posts: 15,654	If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you But make allowance for their doubting too, If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream--and not make dreams your master, If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breath a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!" If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much, If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son! --Rudyard Kipling All the above is predicated by a big IF. So, don't get too excited. __________________ In Barrie's play and novel, the roles of fairies are brief: they are allies to the Lost Boys, the source of fairy dust and ...They are portrayed as dangerous, whimsical and extremely clever but quite hedonistic. "Shall I give you a kiss?" Peter asked and, jerking an acorn button off his coat, solemnly presented it to her. —James Barrie Wimminfolk they be tricksy. - ZenGum

04-16-2006, 10:00 AM	#14
skysidhe ~~Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.~~ Join Date: Apr 2006 Posts: 6,828	The Twilight Is My Robe Unto you I whisper The wildest dreams In the coldness of night Shrouded in crystals Through a frosty dusk Souls of the fullmoon awaits Their shadows ablaze We are all bending Our tired leaves over your empty shell In the sign of true esteem Are you beloved lord Sighing deep under these waterfalls? The birds of the sun Seperates these dark clouds While the winds of winter sleeps gently around I am sworn to the oath To breathe... At the waters I dwell The waves are still whispering Ancient lullabies I die.... While our mystic brothers still seek Under your command I will obey In my vision You are the embodiment of pure freedom But through my eyes you are made of stone Opeth

04-17-2006, 05:05 PM	#15
Cyclefrance Pump my ride! Join Date: Aug 2005 Location: Deep countryside of Surrey , England Posts: 1,890	A short poem I can definitely relate to from Mr Robert Rankin (I've just reached the point in his book, 'Sex and Drugs and Sausage Rolls', where the Cellar gets a mention BTW - how odd....) BAD MEMORY By the bound Victorian gasogene. By the black slate memory board. By the swish French cooking calendar. By the shutters I secured. By the rows of hanging plant pots. By the slightly dripping fridge. By the wibbly wobbly worktop. By the dust along the ridge. By the rack of grey enamelware. By the strangely angled shelf. By the larder door that does not close That I also fitted myself. By the celing lights that don't light up. By the dimmer that does not dim. By the waste disposal unit That bit my uncle Jim. By the nasty Kenwood blender. By the red tiles on the floor. I'm obviously in my kitchen. But what did I come in here for? ++ __________________ Always sufficient hills - never sufficient gears Last edited by Cyclefrance; 04-18-2006 at 12:31 AM.

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