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Dan's Poetry Corner II
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Jim Martin Send message Joined: 21 Jun 03 Posts: 2473 Credit: 646,848 RAC: 0 |
A toast, to poetic perspective. jm |
Jim Martin Send message Joined: 21 Jun 03 Posts: 2473 Credit: 646,848 RAC: 0 |
Strings As we tread through crowded street, unaware of matching feet -- As we exercise free will, draining glass, that others fill -- Strings will always intertwine, subtle changes, for all time -- never do they snap and break, once they form, the heavens make. Everlasting history, to the One, no mystery. Some are gifted five-act play, others long for death's decay. Once it's over, once it's done, strings recoil, to zero sum. * * * j. r. martin 11 May 2012 |
DesO Send message Joined: 2 Feb 12 Posts: 144 Credit: 2,624,617 RAC: 0 |
A poem by Ted Hughes Song O lady, when the tipped cup of the moon blessed you You became soft fire with a cloud's grace; The difficult stars swam for eyes in your face; You stood, and your shadow was my place: You turned, your shadow turned to ice O my lady. O lady, when the sea caressed you You were a marble of foam, but dumb. When will the stone open its tomb? When will the waves give over their foam? You will not die, nor come home, O my lady. O lady, when the wind kissed you You made him music for you were a shaped shell. I follow the waters and the wind still Since my heart heard it and all to pieces fell Which your lovers stole, meaning ill, O my lady. O lady, consider when I shall have lost you The moon's full hands, scattering waste, The sea's hands, dark from the world's breast, The world's decay where the wind's hands have passed, And my head, worn out with love, at rest In my hands, and my hands full of dust, O my lady. |
Jim Martin Send message Joined: 21 Jun 03 Posts: 2473 Credit: 646,848 RAC: 0 |
Thank you, for Ted Hughes' poem, "Song", DesO'Connor. I've read a number of poems by his wife, Sylvia Plath, but never any of his. Thanks to your entry, on his belated behalf, I shall rectify that. jm |
DesO Send message Joined: 2 Feb 12 Posts: 144 Credit: 2,624,617 RAC: 0 |
Ted ( who was a complete barsteward IMHO and yet a brilliant poet) and Sylvia are buried less than two miles from where I live in Heptonstall. He was born in Mytholmroyd ( the land of myth W.Yorkshire ) and despite his Neaderthal heritage, I joke not, went on to be Poet Laurette in th UK. Ted expressed the beauty of his local environment and the beauty of women he loved in a captivating and unique way. So I forgive him his sins if Im allowed to celebrate his gifts. |
Jim Martin Send message Joined: 21 Jun 03 Posts: 2473 Credit: 646,848 RAC: 0 |
Good for you, Des. If you, yourself, write a few lines, you might want to share them with us, now and then. * |
DesO Send message Joined: 2 Feb 12 Posts: 144 Credit: 2,624,617 RAC: 0 |
Good for you, Des. If you, yourself, write a few lines, you might want to I write music and can express myself seriously or comically but poetry translates to haveatry in my little world. I might write a limeric at some pint. |
Jim Martin Send message Joined: 21 Jun 03 Posts: 2473 Credit: 646,848 RAC: 0 |
When your music hits the big-time (if it already hasn't), then perhaps it'll be able to be accessed via link, where you would then be introduced by a couple of chaps resembling actors on "Are You Being Served." ;o) * |
Jim Martin Send message Joined: 21 Jun 03 Posts: 2473 Credit: 646,848 RAC: 0 |
Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean-- the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-- who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. I don't know exactly what a prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day. Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? The Summer Day by Mary Oliver (1935 - ) * jm |
Jim Martin Send message Joined: 21 Jun 03 Posts: 2473 Credit: 646,848 RAC: 0 |
Savior Machine Tracy K. Smith, from her book, "Life on Mars". I spent two years not looking Into the mirror in his office. Talking, instead, into my hands Or a pillow in my lap. Glancing up Occassionally to let out a laugh. Gradually it felt like a date with a friend, Which meant it was time to end. Two years later I saw him walking Up Jay Street into the sun. No jacket, His face a little chapped from wind. He looked like an ordinary man carrying Shirts home from the laundry, smiling About something his daughter had said Earlier that morning. Back before You existed to me, you were a theory. Now I know everything: the words you hate. Where you itch at night. In our hallway, There are five photos of your dead wife. This is what we mean by sharing a life. Still, From time to time, I think of him watching me From over the top of his glasses, or eating candy From a jar. I remember thanking him each time The session was done. But mostly what I see Is a human hand reaching down to lift A pebble from my tongue. * jm |
Julie Send message Joined: 28 Oct 09 Posts: 34053 Credit: 18,883,157 RAC: 18 |
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Jim Martin Send message Joined: 21 Jun 03 Posts: 2473 Credit: 646,848 RAC: 0 |
I'm glad you liked the poems, Julie. Sometimes, they can heal -- whether read, or written. jm |
kittyman Send message Joined: 9 Jul 00 Posts: 51468 Credit: 1,018,363,574 RAC: 1,004 |
Been thinkin' 'bout kitties, my saviors, my pets. Been told there are kind humans, I've not met many yet. The kitties all tell me they are there to be found..... But I know all the kitties are my friends on the ground. Kitties, dear kitties, they do so abound. From one end of the earth to the other, All sorts of kitties can be found. And they love just to squish you with love that abounds. That's the story 'bout kitties I have found. Kitties, dear kitties...my life have enhanced. And saved it one time or another from a bad passing glance. The kitties have found me and saved me from some worse fate I may have encountered when being rather glum. Kitties, dear kitties, I have two right here. One called a Squirrel, and Tigger's a dear. They both love me dearly, and to tell you quite true, I might love a kitty just a bit more than you. LOL..... Yes, I am the kittyman. "Freedom is just Chaos, with better lighting." Alan Dean Foster |
Jim Martin Send message Joined: 21 Jun 03 Posts: 2473 Credit: 646,848 RAC: 0 |
In our extended family, Mark, my sister agreed to permanently accept two Calico cats, Baguette and Croissant. They don't seem to mind my butchering their names. And, as your know, they add a certain ambience to a home. Unfortunately, in their case, they aren't mousers. Cheers, jm |
kittyman Send message Joined: 9 Jul 00 Posts: 51468 Credit: 1,018,363,574 RAC: 1,004 |
In our extended family, Mark, my sister agreed to permanently accept two LOL. They are mousers in heart, I am sure. What a kitty brings to a house I cannot express. When I walk into Lori's home, and her 3 loved ones approach me...... Priceless, as the saying goes. Their eyes......oh, their eyes. Just priceless. "Freedom is just Chaos, with better lighting." Alan Dean Foster |
Julie Send message Joined: 28 Oct 09 Posts: 34053 Credit: 18,883,157 RAC: 18 |
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Jim Martin Send message Joined: 21 Jun 03 Posts: 2473 Credit: 646,848 RAC: 0 |
Tracey K. Smith, from her book "Life on Mars", "The Universe as Primal Scream" 5pm on the nose. They open their mouths And it rolls out: high, shrill and metallic. First the boy, then his sister. Occasionally, They both let loose at once, and I think Of putting on my shoes to go up and see Whether it is merely an experiment Their parents have been conducting Upon the good crystal, which must surely Lie shattered to dust on the floor. Maybe the mother is still proud Of the four pink lungs she nursed To such might. Perhaps, if they hit The majic decibel, the whole building Will lift-off, and we'll ride to glory Like Elijah. If this is it--if this is what Their cries are cocked toward--let the sky Pass from blue, to red, to molten gold, To black. Let the heaven we inherit approach. Whether it is our dead in Old Testament robes, Or a door opening onto the roiling infinity of space. Whether it will bend down to greet us like a father, Or swallow us like a furnace. I'm ready To meet what refuses to let us keep anything For long. What teases us with blessings, Bends us with grief. Wizard, thief, the great Wind rushing to knock our mirrors to the floor, To sweep our short lives clean. How mean Our racket seems beside it. My stereo on shuffle. The neighbor chopping onions through a wall. All of it just a hiccough against what may never Come for us. And the kids upstairs still at it, Screaming like the Dawn of Man, as if something They have no name for has begun to insist Upon being born. * jm |
Daniel Michel Send message Joined: 2 Feb 04 Posts: 14925 Credit: 1,378,607 RAC: 6 |
"Not The Same" you can look at me with your eyes but i'm not the same not the same as the one you think you see you can tell me over and over that i haven't changed whatever you're seeing it isn't me i've put a million miles on this heart of mine now there's a wreck where perfection used to be you tell me smile smile everything is alright it's alright when i know most certainly it's not i can't be the man i used to be the man you somehow think you've got (2012 db michel) PROUD TO BE TFFE! |
Julie Send message Joined: 28 Oct 09 Posts: 34053 Credit: 18,883,157 RAC: 18 |
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Jim Martin Send message Joined: 21 Jun 03 Posts: 2473 Credit: 646,848 RAC: 0 |
A sad one, Dan. Perhaps, someday, all of us can gather over a favorite beverage, and have a "reading". jm |
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