The Road Not Taken

Discussion in 'Off Topic' started by Fire Slinger, Sep 21, 2000.

  1. Rando Freaky Bear

    Good to see another Blake fan. He's the best! Have you ever read all of the Songs of Innocence and Expierence? It does not get any better then that.
  2. Baskil CPA Member

    I've read most of the songs, but I haven't sat down and read the thing cover to cover. Most poetry books that I own have multitudes of unread pages, mostly since I pick out a random poem to read each time I open one.

    BTW, to keep this thread alive, I think I'll post a poem for the day :) Hope no one gets offended by this or objects to it.

    Oct24

    When You Are Old
    by W.B. Yeats

    When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
    And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
    And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
    Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

    How many loved your moments of glad grace,
    And loved your beauty with love false or true,
    But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
    And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

    And bending down beside the glowing bars,
    Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
    And paced upon the mountains overhead
    And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
  3. Baskil CPA Member

    Here's a second one for today.
    "THERE IS A PLEASURE IN POETIC PAINS"
    by William Wordsworth

    THERE is a pleasure in poetic pains
    Which only Poets know';--'twas rightly said;
    Whom could the Muses else allure to tread
    Their smoothest paths, to wear their lightest chains?
    When happiest Fancy has inspired the strains,
    How oft the malice of one luckless word
    Pursues the Enthusiast to the social board,
    Haunts him belated on the silent plains!
    Yet he repines not, if his thought stand clear,
    At last, of hindrance and obscurity,
    Fresh as the star that crowns the brow of morn;
    Bright, speckless, as a softly-moulded tear
    The moment it has left the virgin's eye,
    Or rain-drop lingering on the pointed thorn.
  4. arachiron New Member

    My kind of thread! And of course it wouldn't be complete without some Shakespheare:

    To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
    Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
    To the last syllable of recorded time;
    And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
    The way to dust death. Out, out, brief candle!
    That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
    And then is heard no more; it is a tale
    Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
    Signifying nothing...
    ^(for all those who don't understand poetry, hey, you don't have to)

    But for those of you who do, another of my favorite poems:

    your little voice
    Over the wires came leaping
    and i felt suddenly
    dizzy
    With the jostling and shouting of merry flowers
    wee skipping high-heeled flames
    courtesied before my eyes
    or twinkling over to my side
    Looked up
    with impertinently exquisite faces
    floating hands were laid upon me
    I was whirled and tossed into delicious dancing
    up
    Up
    with the pale important
    stars and the Humorous
    moon
    dear girl
    How i was crazy how i cried when i heard
    over time
    and tide and death
    leaping
    Sweetly
    your voice

    By ee cummings
  5. Fire Slinger Vetern CPA Member Pyromananic

    The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner
    by Randall Jarrell

    From my mother's sleep I fell into the State
    And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
    Six miles from the earth, loosed from its dream of life,
    I woke to black fake and the nightmare fighters.
    When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
  6. Sleepy Narcoleptic CPA Member

    I hate poetry...
  7. Fire Slinger Vetern CPA Member Pyromananic

    I'm sorry...:(
  8. Sleepy Narcoleptic CPA Member

    its cool. I just find it hard to follow and it makes my eyes close. wait. I actually like that part of it!;)
  9. Baskil CPA Member

    I totally forgot about that poem. It's an amazing poem. Anyway, here's today's poems.

    The Purple Cow
    by Gelett Burgess

    I NEVER saw a Purple Cow;
    I never hope to See One;
    But I can Tell you, Anyhow,
    I'd rather See than Be One.


    Constantly Risking Absurdity
    by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

    Constantly risking absurdity
    and death
    whenever he performs
    above the heads
    of his audience
    the poet like an acrobat
    climbs on rime
    to a high wire of his own making
    and balancing on eyebeams
    above a sea of faces
    paces his way
    to the other side of the day
    performing entrachats
    and sleight-of-foot tricks
    and other high theatrics
    and all without mistaking
    any thing
    for what it may not be
    For he's the super realist
    who must perforce perceive
    taut truth
    before the taking of each stance or step
    in his supposed advance
    toward that still higher perch
    where Beauty stands and waits
    with gravity
    to start her death-defying leap
    And he
    a little charleychaplin man
    who may or may not catch
    her fair eternal form
    spreadeagled in the empty air
    of existence
  10. Baskil CPA Member

    Today's poems:

    Resume
    by Dorothy Parker

    Razors pain you,
    Rivers are damp,
    Acids stain you,
    And drugs cause cramp.
    Guns aren't lawful
    Nooses give,
    Gas smells awful--
    You might as well live.

    In a Station of the Metro
    by Ezra Pound

    The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
    Petals on a wet, black bough.

    The Great Figure
    by William Carlos Williams

    Among the rain
    and lights
    I saw the figure 5
    in gold
    on a red
    firetruck
    moving
    tense
    unheeded
    to gong clangs
    siren howls
    and wheels rumbling
    through the dark city.
  11. Fire Slinger Vetern CPA Member Pyromananic

    My Life Had Stood-A Loaded Gun
    by Emily Dickinson

    My life had stood-a Loaded Gun-
    In Corners-till a Day
    The Owner passed-identified-
    And carried Me away-

    And now We roam in Soveregin Woods-
    And now We hunt the Doe-
    And every time I speak for Him-
    The Mountains straight reply-

    And do I smile, such cordial light
    Upon the Vally glow-
    It is a Vesuian face
    Had let its pleasure through-

    And when at Night-Our good Day done-
    I guard My Master's Head-
    'Tis better than the Eider-Duck's
    Deep Pillow-to have shared-

    To foe of His-I'm deadly foe-
    None stir the second time-
    On whom I lay a Yellow Eye-
    Or an emphatic Thumb-

    Though I than He-may longer live
    He longer must -than I-
    For I have but the power to kill,
    Without-the power to die-
  12. terzarima New Member

    Through earthly cradles
    Where once I was born
    Of wooden flesh
    And flowering fields

    Walking through wind swept realms
    Where once I had lived
    Until it came along
    And I was forced away

    Crawling through holy halls
    Where once I have died
    Only to be born again
    In this form (don't get any ideas Duke)

    Falling through the darkness
    Where I will finally rest
    And these endless years
    Will fall of these shoulders
    -Me!!!! I wrote this (by the way its copyrighted)
  13. Baskil CPA Member

    10/27

    Dover Beach
    by Matthew Arnold

    The sea is calm to-night.
    The tide is full, the moon lies fair
    Upon the straits;--on the French coast the light
    Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
    Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
    Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
    Only, from the long line of spray
    Where the sea meets the moon-blanch'd land,
    Listen! you hear the grating roar
    Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
    At their return, up the high strand,
    Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
    With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
    The eternal note of sadness in.

    Sophocles long ago
    Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
    Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
    Of human misery; we
    Find also in the sound a thought,
    Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
    The Sea of Faith
    Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
    Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd.
    But now I only hear
    Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
    Retreating, to the breath
    Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
    And naked shingles of the world.

    Ah, love, let us be true
    To one another! for the world, which seems
    To lie before us like a land of dreams,
    So various, so beautiful, so new,
    Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
    Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
    And we are here as on a darkling plain
    Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
    Where ignorant armies clash by night.
  14. arachiron New Member

    I'm bored; I realize that I bore easily and have a short attention span. By the way, nice poem
    Ademis22. Here's another poem.


    You Begin
    By Magret Atwood

    You begin this way:
    this is your hand.
    this is your eye.
    that is a fish, blue and flat
    on the paper, almost
    the shape of an eye.
    This is your mouth, this is an O
    or a moon, whichever
    you like. This is yellow.

    Outside the window
    is the rain, green
    because it is summer, and beyond that
    the trees and then the world,
    which is round and has only
    the colors of these nine crayons.

    This is the world, which is fuller
    and more difficult to learn than I have said.
    Your are right to smudge it that way
    with the red and then
    the orange: the world burns.

    Once you have learned these words
    you will learn that there are more
    words than you can ever learn.
    The word "hand" floats above your hand
    like a small cloud over a lake.
    The word "hand" anchors
    your hand to this table
    your hand is a warm stone
    I hold between two words.

    This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world,
    which is round but not flat and has more colors
    than we can see.

    It begins, it has an end,
    this is what you will come back to, this is your hand.

    ( I was sketching and somehow I was reminded of this poem--not exactly as random as it might seem.)

    [Edited by arachiron on 10-29-00 at 10:05 AM]
  15. Almindhra Magic's Bitch

    This is a song I use to sing when I was little...I made it up in elementary school...

    Up your butt and around the corner,
    Thats the place to be,
    Up your butt and aorund the corner,
    Now just listen to meeeee.

    Take your friend, that toilet,
    And go, peeeeee.

    Up your butt and around the corner,
    Thats the place to beeeee.


    I should record that for you guys, it really is a great piece...
  16. Baskil CPA Member

    To a Louse
    Robert Burns

    Ha! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie?
    Your impudence protects you sairly;
    I canna say but ye strunt rarely,
    Owre gauze and lace;
    Tho', faith! I fear ye dine but sparely
    On sic a place.

    Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,
    Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner,
    How daur ye set your fit upon her-
    Sae fine a lady?
    Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner
    On some poor body.

    Swith! in some beggar's haffet squattle;
    There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle,
    Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle,
    In shoals and nations;
    Whaur horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle
    Your thick plantations.

    Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight,
    Below the fatt'rels, snug and tight;
    Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right,
    Till ye've got on it-
    The verra tapmost, tow'rin height
    O' Miss' bonnet.

    My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
    As plump an' grey as ony groset:
    O for some rank, mercurial rozet,
    Or fell, red smeddum,
    I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't,
    Wad dress your droddum.

    I wad na been surpris'd to spy
    You on an auld wife's flainen toy;
    Or aiblins some bit dubbie boy,
    On's wyliecoat;
    But Miss' fine Lunardi! fye!
    How daur ye do't?

    O Jeany, dinna toss your head,
    An' set your beauties a' abread!
    Ye little ken what cursed speed
    The blastie's makin:
    Thae winks an' finger-ends, I dread,
    Are notice takin.

    O wad some Power the giftie gie us
    To see oursels as ithers see us!
    It wad frae mony a blunder free us,
    An' foolish notion:
    What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
    An' ev'n devotion!
  17. Spiderman CPA Man in Tights, Dopey Administrative Assistant

    Man, Almindhra, you is whack... :)

    Is there a certain tune that goes with?
  18. SwingMage New Member

    This is one of my Favorite Poems, by Sara Teasdale:

    There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
    And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

    And frogs in the pools singing at night,
    and wild plum trees in tremulous white;

    Robins will wear their feathery fire,
    Whistling their whims on low fence wire;

    And not one will know of the war, not one
    Will care at last when it is done.

    Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
    If mankind perished utterly;

    And Spring herself , when she woke at dawn,
    Would scarcely know that we were gone.
  19. Baskil CPA Member

    One by myself (let me know if you'd like more):

    Variable Dolmens
    by Shawn Jackson

    Down with the Collywobbles
    I lie, huarches still on,
    on the fold-out futon.
    Colloquial haberdashery in my chattel,
    worn-out, but still lecherous.
    I must get up to preach
    my bawd litany again.
    I'd attempt to, but this
    frowsty haze
    obfuscates the room
    making it twirl
    like a Dervish
    Floozily, I rise from the futon,
    and fumble forward for the floor,
    on top of the haberdashery.
    Vociferating votively for a vaccine
    I drift, drift
    off to a soundless retirement.
  20. Almindhra Magic's Bitch

    Spiderman...Of course there is!...I'll have to make a recording, its so much better with the music...:D

Share This Page