| Index | Recent Threads | Unanswered Threads | Who's Active | Guidelines | Search |
 |
World Community Grid Forums
Category: Community
Forum: Chat Room
Thread: Poetry - just poetry .... |
| No member browsing this thread |
|
Thread Status: Active Total posts in this thread: 953
|
|
| Author |
|
|
David Autumns
Ace Cruncher UK Joined: Nov 16, 2004 Post Count: 11062 Status: Offline Project Badges: 
|
Bacon is red
----------------------------------------Violets are blue I need to kiss Sizzling you Poetry is hard Bacon   |
||
|
|
David Autumns
Ace Cruncher UK Joined: Nov 16, 2004 Post Count: 11062 Status: Offline Project Badges:
|
bleary eyes
----------------------------------------foggy moon clouded confusions - you to take your hand have you pirouette into my arms real or imagined - true |
||
|
|
bjbdbest
Master Cruncher Joined: May 11, 2007 Post Count: 2333 Status: Offline Project Badges: 
|
There are always layers of perception and
----------------------------------------individual frames of reality - all of which makes poetry so beguiling. Well done, Dave! The Journey One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice -- though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. "Mend my life!" each voice cried. But you didn't stop. You knew what you had to do, though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations, though their melancholy was terrible. It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones. But little by little, as you left their voices behind, the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do -- determined to save the only life you could save. -Mary Oliver |
||
|
|
David Autumns
Ace Cruncher UK Joined: Nov 16, 2004 Post Count: 11062 Status: Offline Project Badges:
|
Futility
----------------------------------------Move him into the sun - Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds, - Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides, Full-nerved - still warm - too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? - O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all? by Wilfred Owen |
||
|
|
bjbdbest
Master Cruncher Joined: May 11, 2007 Post Count: 2333 Status: Offline Project Badges:
|
Wilfred Owen questions how nature can create life but then
----------------------------------------allow it to be wasted. A cry felt by all who experience loss -- ergo the meaning of the title. Sadly, the talented, young poet's life itself was cut short - leaving a true void in the literary world. All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair— The bees are stirring—birds are on the wing— And Winter slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing. Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow, Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may, For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away! With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll: And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul? Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve, And Hope without an object cannot live. -Samuel Taylor Coleridge |
||
|
|
David Autumns
Ace Cruncher UK Joined: Nov 16, 2004 Post Count: 11062 Status: Offline Project Badges:
|
My understanding is it is one of Wilfred's War Poem's (WW1)
----------------------------------------A desperate loss of one of his brothers in arms hence the France reference (Similar to "In Flanders fields" just over the border in Belgium) "Was it for this the clay grew tall?" Yet more questioning of Man's inhumanity to Man I thought it appropriate given the time of year and is not meant to cause offense over any border given this is the WCG. It's still Futility whichever side you find yourself on. He himself was killed in the last days of WW1. One week before the Armistice [Edit 2 times, last edit by David Autumns at Nov 9, 2014 11:50:54 PM] |
||
|
|
bjbdbest
Master Cruncher Joined: May 11, 2007 Post Count: 2333 Status: Offline Project Badges:
|
"Yet more questioning of Man's inhumanity to Man"
----------------------------------------Unfortunately, indifference is the essence of inhumanity. The poet's heart expresses his soul. His war poems reveal keen sensitivity to all the suffering he experienced. The words and the pain will echo forever. |
||
|
|
David Autumns
Ace Cruncher UK Joined: Nov 16, 2004 Post Count: 11062 Status: Offline Project Badges:
|
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DXP1oLtPyDA
----------------------------------------Once used the lyrics/poem in my sig for well over a month changing every day  I love Mr Hannon's work Particularly https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BsvMca0xG0c as you would expect and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPPi58K6wZs If you click on no other click on this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGbhXoaGL4U Those lyrics - that poem I'm the darkness in the light I'm the leftness in the right I'm the rightness in the wrong I'm the shortness in the long I'm the goodness in the bad I'm the saneness in the mad I'm the sadness in the joy I'm the gin in the gin soaked boy The gin soaked boy I'm the ghost in the machine I'm the genius in the gene I'm the beauty in the beast I'm the sunset in the east I'm the ruby in the dust I'm the trust in the mistrust I'm the Trojan horse in Troy I'm the gin in the gin soaked boy The gin soaked boy I'm the tiger's empty cage I'm the mystery's final page I'm the stranger's lonely glance I'm the hero's only chance I'm the undiscovered land I'm the single grain of sand I'm the Christmas morning toy I'm the gin in the gin soaked boy The gin soaked boy I'm the world you'll never see I'm the slave you'll never free I'm the truth you'll never know I'm the place you'll never go I'm the sound you'll never hear I'm the course you'll never steer I'm the will you'll not destroy I'm the gin in the gin soaked boy Yeah, the gin soaked boy I'm the half truth in the lie I'm the why not in the why I'm the last roll in the die I'm the old school in the tie I'm the spirit in the sky I'm the catcher in the rye I'm the twinkle in her eye I'm Jeff Goldblum in "The Fly" Well, who am I? This pair always make me wonder I'm the beauty in the beast I'm the sunset in the east For the sake of the rhyme or to continue the out of sorts out of stepness of the rest of the lyrics ?? Or does he just kick himself every now and again and go "Oh no what was I thinking" I should let it go [Edit 2 times, last edit by David Autumns at Nov 12, 2014 9:20:28 PM] |
||
|
|
bjbdbest
Master Cruncher Joined: May 11, 2007 Post Count: 2333 Status: Offline Project Badges:
|
Everyone must be who they are. Sensibilities cannot be separate -
----------------------------------------rooted in the creative process to help us imagine and dream. That's what makes one a great writer. Hannon's pulse lies in his lyrics and those who relate can easily travel along. Thanks for sharing, Dave! All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair- The bees are stirring- birds are on the wing- And Winter slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing. Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow, Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may, For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away! With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll: And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul? Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve, And Hope without an object cannot live. -Samuel Taylor Coleridge ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ NAP2614, cjslman, sunfolk, alged, yoro42, et al. I know you're there reading this And here to say, you're dearly missed So won't you stop and share with us? ...Please... I insist  ---------------------------------------- [Edit 1 times, last edit by bjbdbest at Nov 12, 2014 8:03:31 PM] |
||
|
|
NAP2614
Master Cruncher Joined: Mar 27, 2007 Post Count: 2546 Status: Offline Project Badges: 
|
Wind chill factor is now 20*F, so I will think warm thoughts.
----------------------------------------Spring is like a perhaps hand E. E. Cummings, 1894 - 1962 Spring is like a perhaps hand (which comes carefully out of Nowhere)arranging a window,into which people look(while people stare arranging and changing placing carefully there a strange thing and a known thing here)and changing everything carefully spring is like a perhaps Hand in a window (carefully to and fro moving New and Old things,while people stare carefully moving a perhaps fraction of flower here placing an inch of air there)and without breaking anything.  |
||
|
|
|