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#31
11-09-2005, 08:07 PM
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#32
11-10-2005, 06:32 AM
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Teacher:
What have we here, laddie? Mysterious scribblings? A secret code? No! Poems, no less! Poems, everybody! [class laughs] Teacher: The laddie reckons himself a poet! [reads poem] Teacher: "Money get back / I'm all right, Jack / Keep your hands off my stack / New car / Caviar / Four star daydream / Think I'll buy me a football team." Absolute rubbish, laddie. [whacks him with a ruler, growls at Pink] Teacher: Get on with your work. 
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#34
11-10-2005, 08:24 AM
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#35
11-10-2005, 08:26 AM
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#36
11-10-2005, 09:07 AM
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Hey, guys, lets keep it on topic.
This next poem is by Lord Byron. It's not really a Byronic theme, but the poem is awesome. I had a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air; Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day, And men forgot their passions in the dread Of this their desolation; and all hearts Were chilled into a selfish prayer for light; And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones, The palaces of crowned kings—the huts, The habitations of all things which dwell, Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed, And men were gathered round their blazing homes To look once more into each other's face; Happy were those which dwelt within the eye Of the volcanoes, and their mountain-torch; A fearful hope was all the world contained; Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks Extinguished with a crash—and all was black. The brows of men by the despairing light Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits The flashes fell upon them: some lay down And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled; And others hurried to and fro, and fed Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up With mad disquietude on the dull sky, The pall of a past world; and then again With curses cast them down upon the dust, And gnashed their teeth and howled; the wild birds shrieked, And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawled And twined themselves among the multitude, Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food; And War, which for a moment was no more, Did glut himself again;—a meal was bought With blood, and each sate sullenly apart Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left; All earth was but one thought—and that was death, Immediate and inglorious; and the pang Of famine fed upon all entrails—men Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh; The meagre by the meagre were devoured, Even dogs assailed their masters, all save one, And he was faithful to a corse, and kept The birds and beasts and famished men at bay, Till hunger clung them, or the drooping dead Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food, But with a piteous and perpetual moan, And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand Which answered not with a caress—he died. The crowd was famished by degrees; but two Of an enormous city did survive, And they were enemies: they met beside The dying embers of an altar-place Where had been heaped a mass of holy things For an unholy usage: they raked up, And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath Blew for a little life, and made a flame Which was a mockery; then they lifted up Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld Each other's aspects—saw, and shrieked, and died— Even of their mutual hideousness they died, Unknowing who he was upon whose brow Famine had written Fiend. The world was void, The populous and the powerful was a lump, Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless— A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay. The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still, And nothing stirred within their silent depths; Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea, And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropped They slept on the abyss without a surge— The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, The Moon, their mistress, had expired before; The winds were withered in the stagnant air, And the clouds perished! Darkness had no need Of aid from them—She was the Universe
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By the time you're twenty-five they will say you've gone and blown it. By the time you're thirty-five I must confide you will have blown them all
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#37
11-10-2005, 09:11 AM
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Sorry, Haunted! Back to the topic! That is a beautiful poem!;)
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#38
11-10-2005, 09:28 AM
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Nova likes William Blake, especially Tyger Tyger. My favorite is A Poison Tree:
I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe; I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I water'd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears; And I sunned it with my smiles And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright; And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine, And into my garden stole When the night had veil'd the pole: In the morning glad I see My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree
__________________
By the time you're twenty-five they will say you've gone and blown it. By the time you're thirty-five I must confide you will have blown them all
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#39
11-10-2005, 09:34 AM
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sowwy miss Haunted......sometimes i get a thought and i gotta roll with it.;) Mysterious, blown in with the night All this beauty captured in a frame Visibly shaken, but never stirred Drives them insane I see the way she plays her men And I know I've got to know her name She's so beautifully broken Shaped by the wind Dangerously twisted Here I go again I see the way she cast her spell It's like drowning in moonlight Discards them she's done They're lost in her twilight I watch her move from star to star And I wonder why, why it feels so right She's so beautifully broken You can barely see the flaw Especially from a distance Which is always how I fall Why do I fall for the dangerous ones The ones that never learned to let go And why do I lie to myself And pretend that I can break her When she's already been so Beautifully broken Why do I fall for the dangerous ones The ones that don't know how to let go And why do I lie to myself And pretend that I could break her When she's already been so Beautifully broken Shaped by the wind Dangerously twisted Here I go again, here I go again
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#40
11-10-2005, 11:26 AM
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yes..my own work..poetry.com
katrina allen..auckland n.z.. i won a free trip to the prizegiving ..but had to come up with something close to 10,grand just to leave the country. accomodation..food...travel insurance...sheesh.. The last one i wrote when i was an op in mirc..n i could see all the cyber love affairs going on.. was quite hilarious. this one i wrote for my mum my mother had a picture on her dresser drawer but yesterday i found it laying on the floor.. the pictures of my father.. my nana n my sis.. each night before she goes to bed she gave each one a kiss. They left her here in sorrow so many years ago she is but a flower... without them she can't grow I tried to give her comfort.. n told her i was here.. but mother didnt notice she simply didnt care.. my mother has a picture on her dresser drawer..
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my opinion counts dammit so says my Lord :D Last edited by stubbornforgey; 11-10-2005 at 11:36 AM.
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