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A Poem a Day

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Centrix Vigilis View Drop Down
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  Quote Centrix Vigilis Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Topic: A Poem a Day
    Posted: 08-Oct-2011 at 01:08
Death
Is death cold? Or divine.
Will it steal or free your mind.
 
Long dark night descends
brittle, cold and pale the light,
Will force of arms prove the right.
 
Echos of shrieks and chittering things
Who comes before and the sun does bring.
 
Run.. run.. feverish hare
for the huntsman's pack would bring you there.
 
Climb the cairn and pray for day
lest they come and take you away.
 
An elf, a dwarf and a tall somber man,
climb the cairn and take their stand.
 
The howls are mournful they come so near,
pray for the light you hold so dear.
 
Out now drawn are the swords,
three will stand against a dreadful hoard.
 
Long is the slashing and the loss of blood,
slick with sweat and gore now is the mud.
 
But hark! the east.. the sun doth climb
and weary arms now recline.
 
Perhaps....tis cold perhaps divine,
but death, this morn, on you will not dine.
 
Is death cold? Or divine.
Will it steal or free your mind.
 
 
"Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence"

S. T. Friedman


Pilger's law: 'If it's been officially denied, then it's probably true'

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  Quote Centrix Vigilis Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 08-Oct-2011 at 14:15
Ah most sublime.
And stop that nonsense about humble scratchings.
My stuff is just the shades of echoes, of transistory memories, of days personal, gone by transposed upon a fantasy world. It is not intended to be of signficant emotive value for any other but me. Nor is it intended to make a grand statement of the realities of the world other then my perception of those former days. Nor am I particular concerned  about critical review, style, prose errors and observations of those who edit such stuff.
 
Personally the only poets and poetry I have ever enjoyed is the melancholy and sad and individual heroic type.. (With barely the hint of a happy ending because that shit doesn't exsist other then what we individually percieve).. that reflects the actual author's life and perceptions. And I don't give a damn whether it was liked or valued by anyone other then me.
 
You others while perhaps seeing the same... write from your hearts...for your hearts. I think to help mend other's hearts.
 
I write.. as if it were the downward sweep of an axe crashing into the brain of my foe.
 
And who knows...perhaps...it is the same.Big smile
"Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence"

S. T. Friedman


Pilger's law: 'If it's been officially denied, then it's probably true'

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  Quote Chookie Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 17-Oct-2011 at 16:33

La Belle Dame Sans Merci


O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.


O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel’s granary is full,

And the harvest’s done.


I see a lily on thy brow,

With anguish moist and fever-dew,

And on thy cheeks a fading rose

Fast withereth too.


I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful—a faery’s child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.


I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.


I set her on my pacing steed,

And nothing else saw all day long,

For sidelong would she bend, and sing

A faery’s song.


She found me roots of relish sweet,

And honey wild, and manna-dew,

And sure in language strange she said—

I love thee true’.


She took me to her elfin grot,

And there she wept and sighed full sore,

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four.


And there she lullèd me asleep,

And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—

The latest dream I ever dreamt

On the cold hill side.


I saw pale kings and princes too,

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci

Thee hath in thrall!’


I saw their starved lips in the gloam,

With horrid warning gapèd wide,

And I awoke and found me here,

On the cold hill’s side.


And this is why I sojourn here,

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

(John Keats)

For money you did what guns could not do.........
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  Quote Centrix Vigilis Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 22-Oct-2011 at 11:58
There is a tavern in the town.
Tis where we lay our money down.
And when were all done.. drinking at the bar.
We all go out and puke on our boots.
 
(Author unknown)
"Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence"

S. T. Friedman


Pilger's law: 'If it's been officially denied, then it's probably true'

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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 22-Oct-2011 at 14:31
Originally posted by Centrix Vigilis

There is a tavern in the town.
Tis where we lay our money down.
And when were all done.. drinking at the bar.
We all go out and puke on our boots.
 
(Author unknown)

LOL
Who is doing the cleaning?


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  Quote Centrix Vigilis Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 26-Oct-2011 at 02:35
There once was a cat named Fritz
Who went to a bar and got blitzed.
Later that night as he walked out of sight
He got hit by a truck and that was goodnight.
 
"Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence"

S. T. Friedman


Pilger's law: 'If it's been officially denied, then it's probably true'

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  Quote Chookie Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 27-Oct-2011 at 16:57
The Freedom come a' ye

Roch the wind in the clear days dawin'
Blaws the cloods heelster gowdy ow'r the bay
But there's mair nor a roch wind blawin'
Through the great glen o' the warld the day.
It's a thocht that will gar oor rottans
A' they rogues that gang gallus fresh and gay
Tak the road an' seek ither loanins
For their ill ploys tae sport an' play

Nae mair will the bonnie callants
Mairch tae war when oor braggarts crousely craw,
Nor wee weans frae pit-heid an' clachan
Mourn the ships sailing doon the Broomielaw.
Broken families in lands we've herriet
Will curse Scotland the Brave nae mair, nae mair.
Black and white, ane til ither mairriet
Mak' the vile barracks o' their masters bare.

So come all ye at hame wi' freedom
Never heed whit the hoodies croak for doom
In your hoose a' the bairns o' Adam
Can find breid, barley bree an' painted room.
When MacLean meets wi's freens in Springburn
A' the roses an' geans will turn tae bloom
And a black boy frae yont Nyanga
Dings the fell gallows o' the burghers doon.


(Hamish Henderson)


Edited by Chookie - 27-Oct-2011 at 16:57
For money you did what guns could not do.........
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Nick1986 View Drop Down
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  Quote Nick1986 Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 01-Nov-2011 at 21:08
Alive without breath
As cold as death
Never thirsty, always drinking
Clad in mail but never clinking
Me Grimlock not nice Dino! Me bash brains!
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  Quote tjadams Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 05-Nov-2011 at 10:26

Here is US President Abraham Lincoln's favorite poem, "Mortality" by William Knox.

Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?

 Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud

 A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave

 He passeth from life to his rest in the grave.

 

 The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,

 Be scattered around, and together be laid;

 And the young and the old, and the low and the high,

 Shall moulder to dust, and together shall lie...

It is a long poem, so I"ll just post a link to the entire piece here:

http://showcase.netins.net/web/creative/lincoln/education/knox.htm


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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 05-Dec-2011 at 03:03
True Love

True love. Is it normal
is it serious, is it practical?
What does the world get from two people
who exist in a world of their own?

Placed on the same pedestal for no good reason,
drawn randomly from millions but convinced
it had to happen this way - in reward for what?
For nothing.
The light descends from nowhere.
Why on these two and not on others?
Doesn't this outrage justice? Yes it does.
Doesn't it disrupt our painstakingly erected principles,
and cast the moral from the peak? Yes on both accounts.

Look at the happy couple.
Couldn't they at least try to hide it,
fake a little depression for their friends' sake?
Listen to them laughing - its an insult.
The language they use - deceptively clear.
And their little celebrations, rituals,
the elaborate mutual routines -
it's obviously a plot behind the human race's back!

It's hard even to guess how far things might go
if people start to follow their example.
What could religion and poetry count on?
What would be remembered? What renounced?
Who'd want to stay within bounds?

True love. Is it really necessary?
Tact and common sense tell us to pass over it in silence,
like a scandal in Life's highest circles.
Perfectly good children are born without its help.
It couldn't populate the planet in a million years,
it comes along so rarely.

Let the people who never find true love
keep saying that there's no such thing.

Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.


Wislawa Szymborska
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 09-Dec-2011 at 02:16
Enigmas by Pablo Neruda
You've asked me what the lobster is weaving there with
his golden feet?
I reply, the ocean knows this.
You say, what is the ascidia waiting for in its transparent
bell? What is it waiting for?
I tell you it is waiting for time, like you.
You ask me whom the Macrocystis alga hugs in its arms?
Study, study it, at a certain hour, in a certain sea I know.
You question me about the wicked tusk of the narwhal,
and I reply by describing
how the sea unicorn with the harpoon in it dies.
You enquire about the kingfisher's feathers,
which tremble in the pure springs of the southern tides?
Or you've found in the cards a new question touching on
the crystal architecture
of the sea anemone, and you'll deal that to me now?
You want to understand the electric nature of the ocean
spines?
The armored stalactite that breaks as it walks?
The hook of the angler fish, the music stretched out
in the deep places like a thread in the water?

I want to tell you the ocean knows this, that life in its
jewel boxes
is endless as the sand, impossible to count, pure,
and among the blood-colored grapes time has made the
petal
hard and shiny, made the jellyfish full of light
and untied its knot, letting its musical threads fall
from a horn of plenty made of infinite mother-of-pearl.

I am nothing but the empty net which has gone on ahead
of human eyes, dead in those darknesses,
of fingers accustomed to the triangle, longitudes
on the timid globe of an orange.

I walked around as you do, investigating
the endless star,
and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked,
the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind.
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 09-Dec-2011 at 02:32
Expressions

How to express what I cannot express, I wonder.
In the night or and the day, what colors shall I bring to life
To give a shape and nuance of my thoughts
So I be understood and my resolve to tell my soul away
Would at last exist to bear fruit?

What words can express a feeling, touching,
The minute of which the memory is lost?
What metaphors and verbal combinations
Will be suited as to clothe my world in flesh
And make it real, palpable, alive?

I harvested my words from everywhere I could,
I summoned them from different realms
Of thought and dreams, of songs, and myths and curses,
I called them and then mixed them in a liquor
That was supposed to measure me in full.

But did it do that? Or it left me empty, mislead,
And lonely to look at my own defeat -
My image like in some enchanted mirror
Not what I see, but with its lines deformed
And bringing me to cry like child deceived?

I wonder. I admit my own failure.
My words from me run forward and bore
Some strange result and even stronger pain
Where I didn't want to place it...not...again.
How to express what I cannot express....I wonder.
DQ



Edited by Don Quixote - 09-Dec-2011 at 14:21
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10-Dec-2011 at 02:35
A Dream Within a Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Edgar Alan Poe



Edited by Don Quixote - 10-Dec-2011 at 02:38
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 13-Dec-2011 at 01:03
Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks
All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the colour of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.

Pablo Neruda
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 14-Dec-2011 at 23:56
Emily Dickinson:

THERE is a solitude of space,
A solitude of sea,
A solitude of death, but these
Society shall be,
Compared with that profounder site,        5
That polar privacy,
A Soul admitted to Itself:
Finite Infinity.

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  Quote medenaywe Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 18-Dec-2011 at 17:23
I prefer: Metric talks without a rhymes,
the words with soul of beast,that prays with voice of lamb,
Till dawn is born and sparkle crowns
ordinary birth of day.
NaDeNajVe.
 
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 21-Dec-2011 at 18:56
Originally posted by medenaywe

I prefer: Metric talks without a rhymes,
the words with soul of beast,that prays with voice of lamb,
Till dawn is born and sparkle crowns
ordinary birth of day.
NaDeNajVe.
 

Good poem, man - the imagery is unexpected and strong - "words with souls of beasts"  - I wish I came up with it.
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 25-Dec-2011 at 19:50
Come to me, my birds, my children,
My words, my lilies in the dark,
For now is time - breaking time
In which I need your spark.

Come to me, my snowflake perfect,
My desires, sweet and pure,
Come to me, and helps me stand
Under the slanders and the pain.

One more vicious disappoinment,
One more bullet - what's the score?
One more time the light that wanders
One more time will have to roam.

Come to me, and lend me wings
Come to me and bring me spring
Come to me, I you evoke
Come to stop this cruel talk.

Cover me in blanket soft
Make me fly upon rooftops
One more time conserve my soul
From the meanness words that pour.
DQ


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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 28-Dec-2011 at 15:34
I see this poem as a political one - Akhmatova used ways to self-censure her poems lest she loses more than them  in the Stalinist times she lived in.

Anna Akhmatova - And the Last

She was o’er us like a star o’er an ocean, 
Seeking the last, decuman wave with beams,
You gave her name of woe and commotion,
And ne’er – of gladness of our sacred dreams.

At day, she circled over us – a swallow;
A smile – she blossomed on our scarlet lips…
At night, she choked both us, the hollow,
With her cold hand – in different cities’ deeps.

Not touched by single of all glorifications,
Forgetful of the sins’ existing host,
Bend o’er our sleepless bed-heads, with dark passion,
She murmurs verses, desperate and cursed.






Edited by Don Quixote - 28-Dec-2011 at 15:34
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 27-Jan-2012 at 02:25
Mahnaz Badihian

Zayandeh Rud

Where am I from?
That my dress smells
Like the tarragon from my
Father's garden,
And my cheeks are as red
As the flower of a
Pomegranate tree.

Where am I from?
That my hands are the
Stem of a delicate tomato plant,
And the taste in my mouth
Is the taste of pussywillows
In my mother's tea.

Where am I from?
That all my dreams
Are blue, the same
Color as the Caspian Sea.

Where am I from?
That in spring, the
Apple tree buds
In me.

You know, you know
I am from that proud
River,
Zayandeh Rud,
From the tall mountain,
Alborz.
From the land that
Reaches to Zoroaster:
The first poet on earth.

Originally published by www.mahmag.org

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