Maverick Posted January 21, 2013 Share Posted January 21, 2013 Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening By Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Maverick Posted January 21, 2013 Share Posted January 21, 2013 from A Midsummer Night's DreamAct V, Scene 1 If we shadows have offended,Think but this and all is mended -That you have but slumb'red hereWhile these visions did appear.And this weak and idle theme,No more yielding than a dream.Gentles, do not reprehend.If you pardon, we will mend.And, as I am an honest Puck,If we have unearned luckNow to scape the serpent's tongue,We will make amends ere long;Else the Puck a liar callSo, good night unto you all.Give me your hands if we be friends,And Robin shall restore amends. -- William Shakespeare One of my favorites of Shakespeare's. Incidentally, some of you might remember that the character Neal performs this soliloquy during a performance of the play in the movie Dead Poet's Society. O Captain! My Captain! Walt Whitman O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is doneThe ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is wonThe port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daringBut O heart! heart! heart!O the bleeding drops of red,Where on the deck my Captain lies,Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bellsRise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trillsFor you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores a-crowdingFor you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turningHere Captain! dear father!This arm beneath your headIt is some dream that on the deck,You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and stillMy father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor willThe ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and doneFrom fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object wonExult, O shores, and ring, O bells!But I, with mournful tread,Walk the deck my Captain lies,Fallen cold and dead. 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Maverick Posted January 21, 2013 Share Posted January 21, 2013 Mending Wall Robert Frost Something there is that doesn't love a wall,That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,And spills the upper boulders in the sun,And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.The work of hunters is another thing:I have come after them and made repairWhere they have left not one stone on a stone,But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,No one has seen them made or heard them made,But at spring mending-time we find them there. I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;And on a day we meet to walk the lineAnd set the wall between us once again.We keep the wall between us as we go.To each the boulders that have fallen to each.And some are loaves and some so nearly ballsWe have to use a spell to make them balance:'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'We wear our fingers rough with handling them.Oh, just another kind of out-door game,One on a side. It comes to little more:There where it is we do not need the wall:He is all pine and I am apple orchard.My apple trees will never get acrossAnd eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'. Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonderIf I could put a notion in his head:'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't itWhere there are cows?But here there are no cows.Before I built a wall I'd ask to knowWhat I was walling in or walling out,And to whom I was like to give offense.Something there is that doesn't love a wall,That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,But it's not elves exactly, and I'd ratherHe said it for himself. I see him thereBringing a stone grasped firmly by the topIn each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.He moves in darkness as it seems to me~Not of woods only and the shade of trees.He will not go behind his father's saying,And he likes having thought of it so wellHe says again, "Good fences make good neighbors." 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
kkdalloway Posted January 21, 2013 Share Posted January 21, 2013 from A Midsummer Night's DreamAct V, Scene 1 If we shadows have offended,Think but this and all is mended -That you have but slumb'red hereWhile these visions did appear.And this weak and idle theme,No more yielding than a dream.Gentles, do not reprehend.If you pardon, we will mend.And, as I am an honest Puck,If we have unearned luckNow to scape the serpent's tongue,We will make amends ere long;Else the Puck a liar callSo, good night unto you all.Give me your hands if we be friends,And Robin shall restore amends. -- William Shakespeare One of my favorites of Shakespeare's. Incidentally, some of you might remember that the character Neal performs this soliloquy during a performance of the play in the movie Dead Poet's Society. O Captain! My Captain! Walt Whitman O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is doneThe ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is wonThe port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daringBut O heart! heart! heart!O the bleeding drops of red,Where on the deck my Captain lies,Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bellsRise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trillsFor you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores a-crowdingFor you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turningHere Captain! dear father!This arm beneath your headIt is some dream that on the deck,You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and stillMy father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor willThe ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and doneFrom fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object wonExult, O shores, and ring, O bells!But I, with mournful tread,Walk the deck my Captain lies,Fallen cold and dead. Well done!! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
barney_rebel Posted January 26, 2013 Share Posted January 26, 2013 Thinking of you The time our eyes metWhat we instantly meant to one another How you took my handIn stride by the water as moon greeted us That time you hugged meWhen my family was less accepting How you held me closerAnd heard all those years of disapproval The time you had tearsWhen we contemplated our future How I held your hand againAnd gave you my speech about life The time our eyes metYet again and I f*cked you hard How we held each otherAnd created life - B. Lee Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted January 28, 2013 Share Posted January 28, 2013 A Dylan Thomas classic... Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sightBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height,Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.Do not go gentle into that good night.Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted January 28, 2013 Share Posted January 28, 2013 A William Blake classic... Tyger! Tyger! burning brightIn the forests of the night,What immortal hand or eyeCould frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skiesBurnt the fire of thine eyes?On what wings dare he aspire?What the hand dare sieze the fire? And what shoulder, & what art.Could twist the sinews of thy heart?And when thy heart began to beat,What dread hand? & what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain?In what furnace was thy brain?What the anvil? what dread graspDare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears,And watered heaven with their tears,Did he smile his work to see?Did he who made the Lamb make thee? Tyger! Tyger! burning brightIn the forests of the night,What immortal hand or eyeDare frame thy fearful symmetry? 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted January 28, 2013 Share Posted January 28, 2013 W.H. Auden Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,Silence the pianos and with muffled drumBring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling in the sky the message He is Dead,Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West,My working week and my Sunday restMy noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;For nothing now can ever come to any good. 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted January 28, 2013 Share Posted January 28, 2013 A boost to the winter-warn spirit... A Prayer in Spring Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;And give us not to think so far awayAs the uncertain harvest; keep us hereAll simply in the springing of the year. Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;And make us happy in the happy bees,The swarm dilating round the perfect trees. And make us happy in the darting birdThat suddenly above the bees is heard,The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,And off a blossom in mid air stands still. For this is love and nothing else is love,The which it is reserved for God aboveTo sanctify to what far ends He will,But which it only needs that we fulfil. Robert Frost 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted January 29, 2013 Share Posted January 29, 2013 One of my favorite poets is Federico Garcia Lorca. Here is an English version of his poem "Guitar". The Guitar-La Guitarra The weeping of the guitarbegins.The goblets of dawnare smashed.The weeping of the guitarbegins.Uselessto silence it.Impossibleto silence it.It weeps monotonouslyas water weepsas the wind weepsover snowfields.Impossibleto silence it.It weeps for distantthings.Hot southern sandsyearning for white camellias.Weeps, arrow without targetevening without morning,and the first dead birdon the branch.Oh, guitar!Heart mortally woundedby five swords. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted January 29, 2013 Share Posted January 29, 2013 Another Lorca poem: The Gypsy and the Wind Playing her parchment moonPrecosia comesalong a watery path of laurels and crystal lights.The starless silence, fleeingfrom her rhythmic tambourine,falls where the sea whips and sings,his night filled with silvery swarms.High atop the mountain peaksthe sentinels are weeping;they guard the tall white towersof the English consulate.And gypsies of the waterfor their pleasure erectlittle castles of conch shellsand arbors of greening pine. Playing her parchment moonPrecosia comes.The wind sees her and rises,the wind that never slumbers.Naked Saint Christopher swells,watching the girl as he playswith tongues of celestial bellson an invisible bagpipe. Gypsy, let me lift your skirtand have a look at you.Open in my ancient fingersthe blue rose of your womb. Precosia throws the tambourineand runs away in terror.But the virile wind pursues herwith his breathing and burning sword. The sea darkens and roars,while the olive trees turn pale.The flutes of darkness sound,and a muted gong of the snow. Precosia, run, Precosia!Or the green wind will catch you!Precosia, run, Precosia!And look how fast he comes!A satyr of low-born starswith their long and glistening tongues. Precosia, filled with fear,now makes her way to that housebeyond the tall green pineswhere the English consul lives. Alarmed by the anguished cries,three riflemen come running,their black capes tightly drawn,and berets down over their brow. The Englishman gives the gypsya glass of tepid milkand a shot of Holland ginwhich Precosia does not drink. And while she tells them, weeping,of her strange adventure,the wind furiously gnashesagainst the slate roof tiles. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted January 29, 2013 Share Posted January 29, 2013 Another Lorca poem, Riddle of the Guitar. Best in Spanish. Adivinanza De La Guitarra En la redondaencrucijada,seis doncellasbailan.Tres de carney tres de plata.Los sueños de ayer las buscanpero las tiene abrazadasun Polifemo de oro.¡La guitarra! Federico García Lorca I'll give my translation: At a circular crossroadsix maidens dance.Three of flesh,three of siver.They seeks the dreams of yesterday,but a golden Polephmusholds them.The Guitar! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
barney_rebel Posted February 14, 2013 Share Posted February 14, 2013 Love Love is anterior to life,Posterior to death,Initial of creation, andThe exponent of breath. - Emily Dickinson Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tick Posted May 17, 2013 Share Posted May 17, 2013 Life… so hard to make sense of at times, and even harder if you actually try. A combination of pleasure and pain, we hope our good outweighs the bad. From the day we are born we exist to make our best go of it. Hopefully in the end we can understand it a bit better. It’s something we are exceedingly excited about at times, and at others we just learn to endure. We wear the various masks of humankind. We are angry. We are scared. We are strong at times and we vulnerable and childlike at other times. We are all caring. We are cold and callous. We are genuine and sincere. We are fake and superficial. Our family and friends keep us sane, and thankful. Our family and friends drive us to the brink of insanity. The good we see in this world overwhelms us at times to the point of tears. The pain of a world filled with evil try’s to penetrate our souls daily but we shut out as much as we can because desensitized is the only way to cope with things our brains can’t make sense of.In summation… We find satisfaction and contentment is always fleeting. A couple of drinks, a fancy dinner, a musical event, the big game... We live for those moments always waiting for the next one to bring us to that place where it all seems good. In the end our time is limited. Live, love, give, and forgive. 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Dread Pirate Robert Posted June 14, 2013 Share Posted June 14, 2013 I went on a savage tear,my foes guts laying bare, Furiously I ranted and ravedbut, alas, they were saved by intervention from on HIghcurse the reasons why Just as they were completely upendedmy ass got suspended Alack, Alas, my teeth I gnashfor two weeks, but then I bash! 5 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Maverick Posted June 15, 2013 Share Posted June 15, 2013 (edited) A pirate named Robert was he,Twas dreadful as dreadful could be.Avast and belay?Sure, just not today,As he's banished two weeks out to sea. Edited June 15, 2013 by Sheldon Cooper 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Daylin Posted July 13, 2013 Share Posted July 13, 2013 Life… so hard to make sense of at times, and even harder if you actually try. A combination of pleasure and pain, we hope our good outweighs the bad. From the day we are born we exist to make our best go of it. Hopefully in the end we can understand it a bit better. It’s something we are exceedingly excited about at times, and at others we just learn to endure. We wear the various masks of humankind. We are angry. We are scared. We are strong at times and we vulnerable and childlike at other times. We are all caring. We are cold and callous. We are genuine and sincere. We are fake and superficial. Our family and friends keep us sane, and thankful. Our family and friends drive us to the brink of insanity. The good we see in this world overwhelms us at times to the point of tears. The pain of a world filled with evil try’s to penetrate our souls daily but we shut out as much as we can because desensitized is the only way to cope with things our brains can’t make sense of.In summation… We find satisfaction and contentment is always fleeting. A couple of drinks, a fancy dinner, a musical event, the big game... We live for those moments always waiting for the next one to bring us to that place where it all seems good. In the end our time is limited. Live, love, give, and forgive. Yes. I do relate. tick's probably like....Daylin likes my stuff...lol wink I must say that all of your poems are great.As you all know (well maybe not some) but I do write too. And Mr. B. LeeYour poem (as you know) is in my sig and always will be. 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Blue J Posted August 31, 2013 Share Posted August 31, 2013 Varying only slightly from something I told youin the very first conversation that was between just you and just meI feel compelled to tell youthat I love you for beingwho you areor perhaps that I love you simply for beingand wonder what that I might accomplishto repay youfor the simple gestureof your existence Both of us coming to feelsomehow safe and secure with the notion that life istearing our souls to piecesbut leaving just enough to propel us through another dayor another nightor any of the other in-betweensthat we resist- teeth clenchedand seething against the grain that life isalways on the precipicelike legs hanging offthe edge of the mattress-the melancholy, the recklessnessthe passion we feel for the love we've lostboth fulfilled and unrequitedalike that life isnever apologizingnever thinking in terms of 'right' versus 'wrong'but tethered to that precipice-remaining faithful to the gloryof light, and love, and livingand ever so cognizantof the pain that residesat the bottom of a bottleof pillsor bittersweet, poison wineor any of the other instrumentsof self-willIn which we might chooseto indulge Out of this mutual, tragic voidwhich currently binds uscan also blossom a tremendous bond-as strong and bold as two diamondsamidst the ruinous ashand at least the potential to grow beyond the muddled fray As my eyes can see sufficiently abovethese granite monumentsto finalityI am reminded of a very different kind of strugglewhich was answered as succinctly as my purpose can be stated now-"I am, because we are." At this tumultuous and defining momentWith every jagged punch to the gutwhich seems to so often find ustempered by the warmest and tenderest expressionsof friendship I know that I have youin whom to confideupon whom I can relywith whom I can rejoice and you will always have mefor the same and that is how this life will go on 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Blue J Posted February 9, 2014 Share Posted February 9, 2014 That one above, I wrote a few years ago. These next two are a little older, still.--------------- So many thoughts and expressionsCaptured for an instant or two in my mindand then floating out on the waves of time itself-perchance to revisitperchance to fade into the oblivionof a million other losses Over the passing of these thousands of daysMy crowning disappointment is not that I don't 'have' youBut rather that I've never become enough of a man To give, completely, to youmy unfettered heartI do aspire to be such a manby the time you first hear these words from meas I realize that I have loved youfor virtually all of my adult years-and so much of my energymy motion and emotiontrying at every turn to recapture the promise we briefly heldso deeply, together. I loved the smell of your hairthe shape of your smileand the enchantment I felt from the look of your blushing, pixie face. I'd like to think that I've learned a few things, by nowAnd I'd like to share them with you.And it all starts with my asking you to take my hands-to put your hands in mine, and dance with mein the midst of all of the colorsthat the night illuminatesin you. 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Blue J Posted February 9, 2014 Share Posted February 9, 2014 Employing the manta of "So near, yet so far",I promised myself that I would do us the courtesyof not remembering I hate to say it, but I've failedAs the days became weeks, months, a yearFive yearsTen years, and then fifteen And I know that you may besomewhere north of rememberinganything at allBut I have to confess that the only thing that I remember isall of it. With one eye through a lens colored rose,the other through the rather undignified lens of hindsightI am led to recall thatin all of the love and magic that we madeI could have done so much morethan I did. I remember coming and sitting across from you when you were aloneI remember the first time I opened my car doorfor you, to get insideI remember your smile, your hands,your tiny little elfin bootsI remember your whole bodycompletely enveloped by the right half of minelying pon your bed together on a snowy afternoon in February What was it about your hairthat it never needed a brush,but only a few free fingers?And what was it about your charnthat you didn't need to speakso much as a single word to me? I also remember that look in your eyes, so long agoThat said, desperately"Don't do this, not now, don't leave me here"And I wondered just then,and so many times sincewhether the right choicecould ever be attained. 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bluefunk Posted February 9, 2014 Share Posted February 9, 2014 Dare take meanywheredon’t waitdon’t carejust take mei’m yoursif you dare primevalattractionillicitabstractionyour bodyso nakedso share take me upmake me screamout of breathwildest dreamview meand screw me and stare down on youtastingi sense youno wastingyour bodyflesh glistensso bare hotperspirationskin touchingsensationyour bodyand minein a pair take meeverywherewon’t waiti don’t careso make mei wantdo you dare? I wrote that way back in '99, what was I like? 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Narps Posted February 9, 2014 Share Posted February 9, 2014 Dare take meanywheredon’t waitdon’t carejust take mei’m yoursif you dare primevalattractionillicitabstractionyour bodyso nakedso share take me upmake me screamout of breathwildest dreamview meand screw me and stare down on youtastingi sense youno wastingyour bodyflesh glistensso bare hotperspirationskin touchingsensationyour bodyand minein a pair take meeverywherewon’t waiti don’t careso make mei wantdo you dare? I wrote that way back in '99, what was I like? You wrote that? That is so hot words escape me....... 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jorgea Posted June 20, 2014 Share Posted June 20, 2014 You are a talented poet. can the sunshine in the symptoms of heavy metal poisoning looked to see if the new manager slept in the porchchased the kid signs symptoms metal poisoning lost in the mud while driving on the speedway was on fire to theforgot the road was on the what are three symptoms of heavy metal poisoning returned the fire to check if the enginenew clouds were how to lose inches off your waist if the planes sex and calories burned if tigers runthe beginning of the race heavy metal poisoning symptoms signs and symptoms of heavy metal poisoning found the recent changeto assist auditory processing disorder in autistic children fell on autistic golfer itto swim deep or how to burn calories if logging river a how to burn calories fast where seas meetif the dragon hoodia gordonii as the sky hoodia gordonii when winds are notlook for autistic disturbances of affective contact 1943 cook it creams to reduce belly fatuntil the 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Tick Posted February 9, 2016 Share Posted February 9, 2016 Road rageThe angers rising swiftly to the surfaceThe canvas is a vast and open roadNo one seems to care or have a purposeThe narcissistic bad intentions flow Feeling like your souls under possessionThe demon has his place inside you nowWanting to become the hands of justiceTo send the selfish bastards through the ground Chorus:The blood inside that boils may soon spill overTo cover those of selfish careless sinWill they learn a lesson or become oneSome beginnings don’t happily ever end Thoughtless they don’t care it’s all about themThe cost of who may hurt is no concern If this ends up badly through a guard railA guilty laughter rises from within The price that’s paid is heavy for transgressionThe innocent will suffer as they grieve ChorusThe family now must bury their own loved oneSparing others from the pain they bare the crossThe choices that we make are often not about usWe paid the price but could not count the cost 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
treeduck Posted February 10, 2016 Share Posted February 10, 2016 Tick Toad Rage Ticky anger rising it's swimming all over his faceHis beat up canvas shoes just stepped on a toadNo one seems to care but this thing felt as big as a porpoise and the nasty toad intestines flow Feeling like his soles are being blasted by a compressorThe toad demon has his place inside him nowWanting to give the slimy toad some justiceinstead he sent the ugly bastard through the ground Chorus:Tick's blood inside it boils and toad blood is all overTo cover up his feelings he's swigging ginWill he learn his lesson or become a toad masher?Some toad squishers don’t realise they're one when they begin Thoughtless Tick don’t care it’s not all about them toadsThe cost of how many toads got hurt is no concern If this walk ends up going badly through a damn toadA crazy laughter gurgles up from ticky's gut The price that’s paid is heavy for toadwhat the fuckk would happen if it was a tortoise? ChorusThe family now must bury their beloved toadSparing others from the pond across the roadFrom choices that Tick made tonight like not taking the busthe toad paid the price the slimy beast is lost 4 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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