Have just been listening to Radio 4.They were talking about Walter DE La Mares poem The Listeners.
I had forgotten how powerful this poem is.Still has the power to spook me.
A completely different poem I enjoy is I shall wear Purple.
Anybody else got any favourite poems they can share.?
one of my favourites, penned by my son :)
Through time a lamp will burn itself to dry
and grass can't live without its morning dew,
the bird will grow so old it cannot fly,
no fate befall a heart as pure as you.
A soul may lose its will to flourish free,
even in death, stubborn, it fails to cry,
a sunken fish that hates the smell of sea,
not hate nor hurt restrain the dreams of I.
In life our eyes rejoice in blissful song,
through day the singing burns inside of me,
two hearts as one will beat forever long,
as minds connect, not one and one but we.
This height we climb is seen by only few,
so hand in hand relax, enjoy the view.
Ancient Mariner Rime of (+ some more Coleridge)
Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock
just about anything by:
T S Eliot
W H Auden
Isaac Rosenberg
Siegfried Sassoon
Wilfred Owen
Shelley
Keats
Milton
shakespeare
Kubla Khan (that's a poem not the poet! ;D)
oh I could go on. Loves poetry to bits!
this is a great Kipling poem I learnt when I was about 10. You cannot go wrong with Kipling
"The glory of the garden"
http://hiraeth.squarespace.com/journal/2007/6/28/poetry-friday-kipling.html (http://hiraeth.squarespace.com/journal/2007/6/28/poetry-friday-kipling.html)
and these are the lines I still quote
Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made
By singing:--"Oh, how beautiful!" and sitting in the shade,
While better men than we go out and start their working lives
At grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-knives
There's not a pair of legs so thin, there's not a head so thick,
There's not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick.
But it can find some needful job that's crying to be done,
For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one.
Manics,that is a lovely poem.
RT I like kipling too.
Can anyone put up a link for The Listner,I keep trying and messing it up.Thanks.
RT, that was wonderful !
I felt very emotional while reading this work of Kiplings, every thing you can feel
about working and caring for a garden is there.
Thank you for that -
and that my daughter will now get a book of his works for Christmas,
would like an old edition though so have to find the second hand book shops in this area.
Thank you again,
floss xxx
i like this one
She whispered "will it hurt me?"
"Of course not" answered he
"It's a very simple process,
You can rely on me."
She said "I'm very frightened,
I've not had this before.
My friend has had it five times
And said it can be sore."
It was growing rather painful
Tears formed in her eyes
It was hurting quite a bit now
It must have been a size.
"Calm yourself" he whispered
"His face filled with a grin
"Try and open wider
So I can get it in."
"It's coming now" he whispered
"I know" she cried in bliss
Feeling it deep within her now
She said "I am glad I'm having this."
And with a final effort
She gave a frightened shout
He gripped it in anguish
And quickly pulled it out.
She lay back quite contended
Sighed and gave a smile
She said "I'm glad I came now
You made it worth my while."
Now if you read this carefully
The dentist you will find
Is not what you imagined
It's just your dirty mind!!
Very good shaun.....................I think :o
its shaun not shawn sean just shaun
Beg your pardon 8)
'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves".
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.
And labour conditions at the North Pole
were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.
Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!
The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their rooftops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened."
And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorised use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in over-due compensation.
So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life,
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.
And as for the gifts, why, he'd never had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim, Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamoured or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls, or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacifistic.
No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.
No baseball, no football...someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.
So Santa just stood there, dishevelled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you've got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere...even you.
So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth...
May you and your loved ones, enjoy peace on Earth.
That is a clever one.Enjoyed that. :)
Shaun, where did that come from ?
Was brilliant if a little sad at the feflection of our times, I'm still here -- I wonder what we
did right !
floss xxx
Quote from: FLOSSY on November 23, 2008, 17:44:21
RT, that was wonderful !
I felt very emotional while reading this work of Kiplings, every thing you can feel
about working and caring for a garden is there.
Thank you for that -
and that my daughter will now get a book of his works for Christmas,
would like an old edition though so have to find the second hand book shops in this area.
Thank you again,
floss xxx
Glad you liked it! if you haven't read any of his stories, some of them are tremendous "The gardener" is very famous, about a woman visiting the war grave in France of her "nephew", and meeting the "gardener", and "Without Benefit of Clergy" is probably my favourite story ever. Very emotional. Have a look in Remainder books shops. It's where I got mine
A Gardener's Dream
Rain every night, a good steady fall,
Warm sun all day, and no wind at all.
Earth light and soft, easy to seed,
No couch at all, not even a weed.
All seeds germinate, the carrots no gaps,
Just simple thinning, I was a happy chap.
Broad beans grew well, no sign of black fly,
Runners went mad reaching for the sky.
Pigeons found other brassicas to munch,
Sparrows did not want my peas for lunch.
No slugs seen, there was not a snail,
Across the ground, no silvery trail.
Molluscs and birds left strawberries alone,
Red and ripe but firm they had grown.
With currents and gooseberries the bushes were bowed,
The size of rasps made me really proud.
Salad crops, in abundance grew,
Parsnips and carrots were long straight and true.
Potatoes were large, the best I have seen,
No scab or holes, soil fell away clean.
Harvesting produce, the weather just right,
Not one insect wanted to bite.
Suddenly the sound of wind and of rain,
I had fallen asleep in the shed again!
;D
One of my favourites is
A Dance Through the Sky by Timothy S. Bastian, 1997
I dance through the sky on shining red wings,
I loop and I roll and do other such things;
And when I'm up here I have not a care,
for here I belong I'm at peace in the air;
The blue and the green of the earth dance before me,
as good friends look up to see me performing;
This dance that I do for the people to see,
takes lots of hard work but it's all fun to me;
So when I come down just ask me to dance,
we'll waltz through the sky if you just take the chance.
Robert Service is my favourite-so here is an amusing ditty.Some of his stuff is very sad though.
The Bread Knife Ballad.
A little child was sitting
Upon her mother's knee,
And down her cheeks the bitter tears did flow;
And as I sadly listened
I heard this tender plea;
'Twas uttered in a voice so soft and low:-
Please Mother, don't stab Father with the bread knife.
Remember 'twas a gift when you were wed.
But if you must stab Father with the bread knife,
Please, Mother, use another for the bread.
"Not guilty!" said the jury,
And the judge said "set her free;
But remember it must not occur again;
And next time you must listen
To your little daughter's plea,"
Then all the court did join in this refrain:-
Please Mother, don't stab Father with the bread knife.
Remember 'twas a gift when you were wed.
But if you must stab Father with the bread knife,
Please, Mother, use another for the bread.
I love Rupert Brooke,W. B. Yeats,George R. Sims for 'In the Workhouse, (Christmas Day). And who could leave out Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes and Roger McGough's
Cake
I wanted one life
You wanted another
We couldn't have our cake
So we ate each other.
aint that brilliant? ;D
How about this one all about the gardener's friend
http://flightplot.wordpress.com/2008/10/09/today-is/
I put my poem on here a few months back but think it went unnoticed. Here it is again for those who may have missed it.
Tom O'Grady
By Paulines7
Tom O'Grady wanted a lady to take to the village dance.
He went through his list of women he'd kissed or given a second glance.
None fitted the bill, some were too ill and some had even passed on.
Many were wed or out of their head, the rest had moved on and were gone.
Now Tom O'Grady wanted a lady and needed to find one fast.
He drove in his truck, in need of some luck and looked at the women he passed.
He rounded the bend and went to the end, got out of his truck in despair
And what do you think, dressed in pink, a lady was standing there.
He'd met her before, of that he was sure and then he remembered when,
It was in the hall of the secondary school, she was very pretty then.
Tom O'Grady doffed his cap and then began to grin. It was a long time ago
When he first said hello and would she remember him?
She gave him a smile then paused for a while as she studied O'Grady's face.
She pursed her lips and wriggled her hips; his heart began to race.
In the school play she had danced away and stolen O'Grady's heart,
For at the show he was in the front row while she was playing her part.
He'd caught her eye this good looking guy and when it was over they met.
But along came Bill Gray who marched her away. O Grady would never forget.
Years had passed but he'd found her at last. "Where have you been?" he enquired.
"I moved away but came back today, I'm all alone" she sighed.
She took his arm and worked her charm, he was smitten again it was true.
They walked to a bar, not too far, where he ordered a wine and a brew.
They talked awhile with many a smile and then he saw his chance,
"Rosie my dear, now you are here, will you come to the village dance?"
"When is it?" she said, raising her head. "It's Saturday starting at eight".
"A lively affair, I'll be there and look forward to the date".
An hour passed, she emptied her glass and said she would have to go.
She pursed her lips and wriggled her hips as she did on the stage long ago.
Saturday night, by the moonlight, Tom made his way to the hall.
He stood by the door and looked at the floor but couldn't see her at all.
Then out of the park in the dark Rosie's figure appeared.
She looked a treat and wasn't it great she'd not stood him up as he feared.
Then in the light he came into sight, a man who walked by her side.
Oh what dismay for it was Bill Gray; O'Grady wanted to hide.
They slowed their pace and came face to face and as they eyed up each other,
Tom was mad and feeling quite sad when she suddenly said "Bill's my brother"
All the years of shedding tears, thinking he had no chance,
But now O'Grady seized his lady, escorting her to the dance,
Hand in hand, 'til they reached the band and then they danced together.
She pursed her lips and wriggled her hips, their love would last forever.
Aaaaah lovely ;)
That is very good Pauline.Very talented. :)
THE LISTENERS.........WALTER DE LA MARE
Is there anybody there? said the traveller,
knocking on the moonlit door.
And his horse in the silencechamped the grass
of the forests ferny floor,
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
above the travellers head
And he smote upon the door a second time
Is there anybody there ?he said
But no one descended to the traveller
No head from the leaf fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes
Where he stood perplexed and still
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men.
Stood thonging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair
that goes down to the empty hall
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely travellers call
And he felt in his heart their strangeness
Their stillness answering his cry
While his horse moved cropping the dark turf
Neath the starred and leafy sky,
For he suddenly smote on the door,even louder and lifted his head
Tell them I came,and no one answered
That I kept my word he said
Never the least stir made the listeners
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake
Ay,they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
and the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward
when the plunging hoofs were gone.
Poems.. not poem.
The book. A Child's Garden of Verses..my absolute fave as a child and a book I have given to children so amy times over the years I have totally lost count, certainly 3 figures.
Fave from it.
Would have to be ..................................... oh cannot choose.
XX Jeannine
Oh please choose one J.
WARNING BY JENNY JOSEPH
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
with a red hat that doesent go and doesent suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit on the pavement when I,m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old and start to wear purple.
I had some of my poetry published a few years back but I haven't written any for quite a while. I always mean to get back to it but I never seem to make the time. I didn't even buy the books my work appeared in, LOL!
I'll put a couple of my favourites up later when I get home from work (not written by me but just a couple that I like very much)
another of my favourites, but I'm predjudiced ;D
The Lady in the Cave..
Although my cave is open, why do you step inside?
For now you'll see the depths of me, the caverns that I hide,
as my cave is not the home of one of purity and strength,
it echos with the screams of youth I've villified at length.
Yet in confidence you step into a pool of hidden grains
of sand, like blood, that trickles through a maze of swollen veins,
fearlessly you step across the rocks my life will throw
and dig for mindless memories I've buried deep below.
My seaweed spreads in ignorance to hide the tarnished face
of piles of broken rocks, each its waste of space.
You lift them, you tend to them, you show them where to hide,
You calm the helpless memories in which my fear reside.
You stride through pouring water, salt tints its taste,
that flows with my emotions, yet some still goes to waste
hidden in blocked dungeons none will live to see,
pressed against the rockfalls from tremors deep in me.
You caress my favorite place in mind, your music is a kiss
that shakes in its ferocity and leaves my heart in bliss.
You massage my mental muscles with your familiar hands,
the touch a whole world in torment understands.
Your chuckle echos through the dark and sings a happy tune
to every icy stalagmite, every crumbling dune,
your laughter fights the whirlwind that twists through the cave,
it bats away the sandstorm and quells the crashing wave.
You sit and you rest yourself as dark the road ahead,
it's darkness is the consequence of all the tears I've shed.
You stand and you take the path none but I can face,
all needles from my haystack are buried in this place.
Devoid of all but silence, this my deepest hole,
it sucks from me the memories that de-hydrate my soul,
its floor a jumbled mess, a half-life of bones,
tossed in fearful haste amongst the slimy stones.
You strip your mental clothing and stand before my eye
and one by one my nightmares crumble up and die.
For once there is a person that sees me in full sight,
who fills my cave with brightness, fills my mind with light.
You shower in the torrent that splashes out my pain
to save me from self-hatred and make me love again.
You bathe in the waterfall that pours out my sorrow
to take away my yesterday and gift me my tomorrow.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By: Alan Brooke
© Alan Brooke, All rights reserved.
Thanks RT, I'll do that :-*
Have written a couple myself, I'm a bit shy and another excuse is I really can't think
where I've put them :(
floss xxx
Aaaaargh, I have just been sick.
Thats a conversation stopper Ace ?
For why :o
floss
Take no notice of ACE .He is not cultured and sensitive like us. ::)
Manics I really enjoyed that poem.In fact I have enjoyed all of them.
Hope we are going to get some more on the thread. :)
Me too, that is a BIG talent.
LONE DOG
I,m a lean dog,a keen dog,a wild dog and lone,
I,m a rough dog a tough dog ,hunting on my own!
I'm a bad dog,a mad dog,teasing silly sheep,
I love to sit and bay the moon and keep fat souls from sleep.
I'll never be a lap dog,licking dirty feet,
A sleek dog,a meek dog cringing for my meat.
Not for me the fireside, the well filled plate,
But shut door and sharp stone and cuff and kick and hate.
Not for me the other dogs,running by my side,
Some have run a short while,but none of them would bide
O mine is still the lone trail,the hard trail the best,
Wide wind and wild stars and hunger for the quest.
IRENE McLeod.
My mum learnt this at school when she was a child,now in her seventies she is still word perfect :)
I am also fond of Wendy Cope. Here's a short one to make you smile.
Loss.
The day he moved out was terrible,
That evening she went through hell.
His absence wasn't a problem
But the corkscrew had gone as well.
that one made me laugh ;D
and I love warning, I've already started, got myself some purple nail polish ;D
I remember it !!! :) :) :)
Found one ! here goes,
The black cat purred and clenched her toes, in mock attempt
at washing clothes,
Her thundering song that went along, with pounding paws
and blinkered eyes,
She made her bed with heart felt sighs.
I am black and ' lucky ' - she mused upon the old wives tails
bestowed thereon,
All cats like me with coats like jet, to 'cross a path'
though never met
At last she sank to stretch a while, into her bed with feline style
and to dream of her next feed,
I am a ' lucky' cat indeed !
floss xxx
That's,s good Floss.
It really is a nice observation on cat behaviour and their possible thoughts :)
Fankee betula, [ tales -- tails , grief !!! ] :-[
floss x
Can I make a poem suggestion ?
That we start a poem of our own, that every one can add to !
Would be fun - we could pick a subject then off we go ?
floss xxx
Yes ,we could give it a go,why not?