Pure poetry...
- vladimir
- The Pun-isher
- Posts: 6077
- Joined: Mon May 12, 2014 6:51 pm
- Reputation: 185
- Location: The Kremlin
Pure poetry...
I always loved poetry, studied English literature at university (brag, brag), so i thought I'd start a thread on poetry. I'm not a wine snob, nor am I a poetry snob, so please feel free to post anything you like, it's a very subjective thread, you don't need any academic skill to like poetry.
This is one of my favourites, the Alsatian for sale thread prompted it.
The Tiger, Blake.
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies 5
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 10
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp 15
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee? 20
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
This is one of my favourites, the Alsatian for sale thread prompted it.
The Tiger, Blake.
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies 5
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 10
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp 15
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee? 20
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Jesus loves you...Mexico is great, right?
Re: Pure poetry...
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
If you should ever see
A poem lovely as a tree,
Give me a call
at 548 0463.
A poem lovely as a tree.
If you should ever see
A poem lovely as a tree,
Give me a call
at 548 0463.
- Jamie_Lambo
- The Cool Boxing Guy
- Posts: 15039
- Joined: Mon Apr 20, 2015 10:34 am
- Reputation: 3132
- Location: ลพบุรี
Re: Pure poetry...
This is one i wrote 2 years ago, coming out of a depressive hole with the help of Buddhism...
"Nirvana Apocalypse"
Twisted,
Planets shifted,
Mind earthquakes causing tsunami headaches,
Mass flash flooding drowning me out,
Washing away the blood where our battles were once fought,
Volcanic eruptions causing pollution to all assumptions and thoughts,
Comets raining down causing devastating extinction to all that once was,
Tomorrow is a new day to be lived in a new way,
Mistakes are made and lessons learnt,
Play with fire you will get burnt,
For every action a reaction,
Satisfaction in karma,
Be enlightened and reach nirvana,
Live a calmer life,
Eliminate strife,
Be free from yourself,
The one that brings you down,
The sound of birds forever ringing in your ears,
Peaceful sounds drown out the frowns,
Wake up each day with the desire to do better,
Sun setting and sunrise,
Widen the eyes,
Gaze at the nights sky watch shooting stars expanding the mind,
Make a wish,
Reality isn't like this,
Brainwashed by our own matrix,
Pain is an illusion,
Free life is a fallacy,
We are eternal,
Immortality!
"Nirvana Apocalypse"
Twisted,
Planets shifted,
Mind earthquakes causing tsunami headaches,
Mass flash flooding drowning me out,
Washing away the blood where our battles were once fought,
Volcanic eruptions causing pollution to all assumptions and thoughts,
Comets raining down causing devastating extinction to all that once was,
Tomorrow is a new day to be lived in a new way,
Mistakes are made and lessons learnt,
Play with fire you will get burnt,
For every action a reaction,
Satisfaction in karma,
Be enlightened and reach nirvana,
Live a calmer life,
Eliminate strife,
Be free from yourself,
The one that brings you down,
The sound of birds forever ringing in your ears,
Peaceful sounds drown out the frowns,
Wake up each day with the desire to do better,
Sun setting and sunrise,
Widen the eyes,
Gaze at the nights sky watch shooting stars expanding the mind,
Make a wish,
Reality isn't like this,
Brainwashed by our own matrix,
Pain is an illusion,
Free life is a fallacy,
We are eternal,
Immortality!
Mean Dtuk Mean Trei, Mean Loy Mean Srey
Punchy McShortstacks School of Hard Knocks
Punchy McShortstacks School of Hard Knocks
Re: Pure poetry...
"Lions don't eat cabbage.
And in spite of that of adage
You'll never see one lie down with a lamb."
-- Chris Smither
And in spite of that of adage
You'll never see one lie down with a lamb."
-- Chris Smither
- StroppyChops
- The Missionary Man
- Posts: 10598
- Joined: Tue May 06, 2014 11:24 am
- Reputation: 1032
Re: Pure poetry...
(Standard science grad response) So you decided young to not contribute, then?vladimir wrote: studied English literature at university (brag, brag), so i thought I'd start a thread on poetry.
Bodge: This ain't Kansas, and the neighbours ate Toto!
Re: Pure poetry...
Upon reading an article in the paper about the Da Vinci Code [which I haven't read] in which Jesus apparently marries Mary Magdalene and goes off to live in, of all places, France:
Now Jesus he married sweet Magda
Though many to the bushes had dragged 'er.
Said his father Joe,
"He's divine, it's your woe"
To old patrons who ogled or ragged 'er.
His grandsons are priests, they're called Pere
Penitential in shirts made of hair.
Granddaughters: their druthers
Were to cavort 'bout with others
And dance in the Follies Begere.
Now Jesus he married sweet Magda
Though many to the bushes had dragged 'er.
Said his father Joe,
"He's divine, it's your woe"
To old patrons who ogled or ragged 'er.
His grandsons are priests, they're called Pere
Penitential in shirts made of hair.
Granddaughters: their druthers
Were to cavort 'bout with others
And dance in the Follies Begere.
- vladimir
- The Pun-isher
- Posts: 6077
- Joined: Mon May 12, 2014 6:51 pm
- Reputation: 185
- Location: The Kremlin
Re: Pure poetry...
Hahaha
Voulez vous couchez avec ho ce soir?
Voulez vous couchez avec ho ce soir?
Jesus loves you...Mexico is great, right?
Re: Pure poetry...
I also studied English literature at school, but have never learn about writing poetry. It is bit confusing in Cambodia. When we say we study English literature meaning we study English either English for teaching (TEFL) or English for communication.
បើសិនធ្វើចេះ ចេះឲ្យគេកោត បើសិនធ្វើឆោត ឆោតឲ្យគេអាណិត។
If you know a lot, know enough to make them respect you, if you are stupid, be stupid enough so they can pity you.
If you know a lot, know enough to make them respect you, if you are stupid, be stupid enough so they can pity you.
Re: Pure poetry...
Great Poem from the Sufi-Muslim Poet, Hafiz, about the dangers of organized religion and the gullibility of those that follow blindly:
THE DIAMOND TAKES SHAPE
Some parrots
Have become so skilled with
The human voice
They could give a brilliant discourse
About freedom and God
And an unsighted man nearby might
Even begin applauding with
The thought:
I just heard jewels fall from a
Great saint's mouth,
Though my Master used to say,
"The diamond takes shape slowly
With integrity's great force,
And from
The profound courage to never relinquish love."
Some parrots have become so skilled
With words,
The blind turn over their gold
And lives to caged
Feathers.
THE DIAMOND TAKES SHAPE
Some parrots
Have become so skilled with
The human voice
They could give a brilliant discourse
About freedom and God
And an unsighted man nearby might
Even begin applauding with
The thought:
I just heard jewels fall from a
Great saint's mouth,
Though my Master used to say,
"The diamond takes shape slowly
With integrity's great force,
And from
The profound courage to never relinquish love."
Some parrots have become so skilled
With words,
The blind turn over their gold
And lives to caged
Feathers.
Taxi, we'd rather walk. Huddle a doorway with the rain dogs
The Rum pours strong and thin. Beat out the dustman with the Rain Dogs;
The Rum pours strong and thin. Beat out the dustman with the Rain Dogs;
-
- Tourist
- Posts: 7
- Joined: Mon Oct 13, 2014 10:24 am
- Reputation: 0
Re: Pure poetry...
Teaching the Ape to Write Poems
James Tate, 1943
They didn’t have much trouble
teaching the ape to write poems:
first they strapped him into the chair,
then tied the pencil around his hand
(the paper had already been nailed down).
Then Dr. Bluespire leaned over his shoulder
and whispered into his ear:
“You look like a god sitting there.
Why don’t you try writing something?”
James Tate, 1943
They didn’t have much trouble
teaching the ape to write poems:
first they strapped him into the chair,
then tied the pencil around his hand
(the paper had already been nailed down).
Then Dr. Bluespire leaned over his shoulder
and whispered into his ear:
“You look like a god sitting there.
Why don’t you try writing something?”
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