Poetry (861 views, 42 replies)

I had a little Sorrow,
Born of a little Sin,
I found a room all damp with gloom
And shut us all within;
And, "Little Sorrow, weep," said I,
"And, Little Sin, pray God to die,
And I upon the floor will lie
And think how bad I've been!"

Alas for pious planning—
It mattered not a whit!
As far as gloom went in that room,
The lamp might have been lit!
My little Sorrow would not weep,
My little Sin would go to sleep—
To save my soul I could not keep
My graceless mind on it!

So I got up in anger,
And took a book I had,
And put a ribbon on my hair
To please a passing lad,
And, "One thing there's no getting by—
I've been a wicked girl," said I:
"But if I can't be sorry, why,
I might as well be glad!"
Edna St. Vincent Millay

the big wind blowing ,snow melting on the mountain top.the rain comes to give new life to the trees and plants .The sun is shinning way up high . while the weak gets strong and the strong stay strong . new life is being made ,this is the meaning of spring.

You danced beneath the flames whilst glowing <br> Shattering the stars the fiend is knowing <br> of twilight spheres amongst the sea of the flowing <br> This flowering dust about the signs of eternal growing <br> And of the one who's fortune's bestowing <br> That knowledge needs no reason for tiptoeing <br> And sharing the wealth is a showing <br> To return the dust for the continuous sowing <br> <br> J.F Halls

HEAR the sledges with the bells -- <br> Silver bells ! <br> What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! <br> How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, <br> In the icy air of night ! <br> While the stars that oversprinkle <br> All the heavens, seem to twinkle <br> With a crystalline delight ; <br> Keeping time, time, time, <br> In a sort of Runic rhyme, <br> To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells <br> From the bells, bells, bells, bells, <br> Bells, bells, bells -- <br> From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. Poe <br>

A Word To Husbands <br> By Ogden Nash <br> <br> To keep your marriage brimming <br> With love in the loving cup, <br> Whenever you're wrong, admit it; <br> Whenever you're right, shut up. <br>

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bondojoe, Sorry I didn't write more before.Thanks about the IQ)Sorry about the typing,the erogonomic keyboard I will never get used to.)Yes,I often feel alone.It's part that people like us,(and I think you are very intelligent too)often don't fit in society . I am very lucky to know my sister,who is still in California,we talk a lot,and she's whip-smart.She says the same thing;she's relived to have me to talk to.We were'nt always getting along so well,we had to work at becoming friends as adults,cause our parents really split us up.I feel very lucky to have this smart,nice,good hearted sister to talk to.We were both tested as having the same IQ.But the lady,roommate,she had all her life,had a 200 I.Q.and worked for big law firms,in computers.So they were lucky to have each other,too, to talk to.They were both creative,and made a lot of jewelry,and belong to this big San Francisco jewelry hobby club. So,yes,in Eugene Oregon,now I get very alone. <br> <br> What really also worked for me,was I found very intelligent nice people online once in awhile.One of my best friends I met online,cause we have a lot of the same family,ect.situations--she lives in Michigan.She is very smart person,did lots of medical research her doctors could not do.She's also a very good artist. <br> <br> WE also talk on the phone.I found out,the Net is a great way to meet very nice smart people we would not meet otherwise in our community.(Ours is extreme screaming Liberal Democrat community,and hard to find anyone here who is more conservative.) <br> <br> Your thirst for knowledge is a good thing,wanting to learn for the knowledge itself.I feel the same way.Learning itself is a great thing.You might really find some nice friends online,who have a lot of the same things in common,you can't find in your community.I found it really helps.You really feel a lot less lonely.Do be careful whom you find online,of course,but there are some really nice people online you can share things with. ... There are some nice people here,I notice.In the past,before the Net,people,poets,ect.would do long distance letter-writing to each other to communicate.Similar to what the Net is doing now. So I hope you feel less alone talking to all of us here. <br>
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I feel less alone now than I did when I was young, because i've mellowed, and also because I've forgotten a lot of what I learned! LOL! Also, as you said, I have met SOME people that understand what thinking is, as opposed to memorization. Most people confuse the two. I think this is the best definition of intelligence that I have ever heard..." It's either the ability to concieve of new Ideas, new concepts, or it's the ability to combine two seperate ideas, and create a completely new one."

My One-Eyed Love <br> © Andrew Jefferson <br> <br> I've fallen in love- I don't know why <br> I've fallen in love with a girl with one eye. <br> <br> I knew from the start. It was plain to see <br> That this wonderful girl had an eye out for me <br> <br> She's charming and witty and jolly and jocular <br> Not what you'd expect from a girl who's monocular. <br> <br> Of eyes - at the moment - she hasn't full quota <br> But that doesn't change things for me one iota. <br> <br> It must be quite difficult if you're bereft. <br> If your left eye is gone and your right eye is left. <br> <br> But she's made up her mind. She's made her decision. <br> She can see it quite clearly in 10/20 vision. <br> <br> She'll not leave me waiting, not left in the lurch <br> If she looks slightly sideways she'll see me in church. <br> <br> I'll marry my true love who's gentle and kind. <br> And thus prove to everyone that loves not quite blind. <br>

This thread brought memories of youth and poetry reading & writing. This one one has stuck with me from one of Ireland's great poets the last 60 years. This is a snap shot of a Christmas morning from the point of view of a six-year old boy on a farm, and the wonder of it all.

A Christmas Childhood


One side of the potato-pits was white with frost -
How wonderful that was, how wonderful!
And when we put our ears to the paling-post
The music that came out was magical.

The light between the ricks of hay and straw
Was a hole in Heaven's gable. An apple tree
With its December-glinting fruit we saw -
O you, Eve, were the world that tempted me.

To eat the knowledge that grew in clay
And death the germ within it! Now and then
I can remember something of the gay
Garden that was childhood's. Again.

The tracks of cattle to a drinking-place,
A green stone lying sideways in a ditch,
Or any common sight, the transfigured face
Of a beauty that the world did not touch.
...
My father played the melodion
Outside at our gate;
There were stars in the morning east
And they danced to his music.

Across the wild bogs his melodion called
To Lennons and Callans.
As I pulled on my trousers in a hurry
I knew some strange thing had happened.

Outside in the cow-house my mother
Made the music of milking;
The light of her stable-lamp was a star
And the frost of Bethlehem made it twinkle.

A water-hen screeched in the bog,
Mass-going feet
Crunched the wafer-ice on the pot-holes,
Somebody wistfully twisted the bellows wheel.

My child poet picked out the letters
On the grey stone,
In silver the wonder of a Christmas townland,
The winking glitter of a frosty dawn.

Cassiopeia was over
Cassidy's hanging hill,
I looked and three whin bushes rode across
The horizon — the Three Wise Kings.

And old man passing said:
‘Can't he make it talk -
The melodion.' I hid in the doorway
And tightened the belt of my box-pleated coat.

I nicked six nicks on the door-post
With my penknife's big blade -
there was a little one for cutting tobacco.
And I was six Christmases of age.

My father played the melodion,
My mother milked the cows,
And I had a prayer like a white rose pinned
On the Virgin Mary's blouse.

Patrick Kavanagh
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I like it. But is it the view of a six year old boy, or is it a man remembering when he was six years old? To me...it makes a difference.

"On Raglan Road" is a poem written by Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh named after Raglan Road in Ballsbridge, Dublin. In the poem, an older man (Kavanagh, 40) recalls a love affair that he had with a young student of 22 years, while walking on a "quiet street". Although the poet knew that he would risk being hurt if he initiated a relationship, he did so anyway.
The poem was later put to a well known traditional Irish tune "The Dawning of the Day" with the help of Luke Kelly. Kelly's rendition is definitive.

Raglan Road




On Raglan Road of an autumn day I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue
I saw the danger, and I passed along the enchanted way
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day

On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge
... The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I'm not making hay
Oh, I loved too much and by such by such is happiness thrown away

I gave her gifts of the mind, I gave her the secret sign
That's known to the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint without stint I gave her poems to say
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet, I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly, my reason must allow
That I had loved not as I should a creature made of clay
When the angel woos the play, he'd lose his wings at the dawn of the day.

Patrick Kavanagh
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Or as Alfred Lord Tennyson less poetically said ...'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" The last verse seems to suggest that he has regrets. I wouldn't. I consider it a neccessary rite of manhood to love too much. It's part of a maturation process. And why SHOULD a man deny himself a relationship? Fear? Not from a man. I like the song. I like Irish music. The Appalachians in the United States are where many of the Irish settled, to mine coal. Some of my relatives were among them. They brought their music with them, and it can be clearly heard in what we now call "Country" music. At least in the early works.

I think it is a great thread to show great works and the personal works of the members without any negativity. A place to encourage creativity and honesty without worrying about the trolls and naysayers. A great idea. Keep it going if you can. I'll throw my hat in the ring if needed.

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

To whom it may concern.

It’s time for all to turn

From all the things we yearn.

The CREATOR wants none to burn.

Only to seek the Truth and learn.



Why do that to your Brother,

Talk that way to your Mother.

Is it really worth the bother

To work so, To stifle and smother.

Would you accept this from another?


© 2004

FOR MY SONS

Give thanks for the rain,

Be it in the mountain or in the plain.

Give thanks for the fresh water.

Pray we’re not being led to the slaughter.



Seek the truth and learn all you can.

Know who you are: Rule Yourself: Be your own man.

Keep your eyes open, watch your steps; may they not falter.

Find a Righteous man and marry his daughter

Treat her well and she’ll bring you no pain.

Work steady and seek not ill gain.


© 2004

in commemoration of David Bowie's third anniversary.





to mpg

copyright ©2016 BOX