The poetry thread
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@Mik said in The poetry thread:
Aqua, is The Old Man yours? Love it, so I hope so. It has your voice.
Yeah, that was mine. Thanks, man.
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@Mik said in The poetry thread:
Aqua, is The Old Man yours? Love it, so I hope so. It has your voice.
Yeah, that was mine. Thanks, man.
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Fire and Ice
—Robert FrostSome say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice. -
Fire and Ice
—Robert FrostSome say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.Love that.
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Love that.
@Mik said in The poetry thread:
Love that.
Typical tone for ol' "Bitter Frost," but yeah, still good.
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Some good and interesting stuff here!!!!
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'When You Are Old' (1892) 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.
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It's World Poetry Day, so here you go.
I wrote this about 11 years ago, give or take.
(For those interested, instead of iambic pentameter or some other form we borrowed from the Greeks, this was written in fornyrðislag, a pretty common alliterative verse form in medieval Iceland and Anglo-Saxon areas. It's good for long narratives.)
Contemplate carefully your curious eyes:
Your world-windows and wondrous informers
For our forebears, foregone by eras,
Scores of secrets their sight could tell:
Where to find water, when the stars
Brought beasts beyond the plains,
The time of tides.This talent evolved
As with our ancestors, answering questions
Broader, more bold; we're able by sight
To compare, discover, equate and to judge.
We discern by sight—we see and believe.Are we bounded by the blessings of broader sight?
We've clever inventions, devices to cast
Ourselves into stars, inside each atom;
We've mapped the material, mastered its puzzles.
But still we sit through each second's passing:
Powerless against perpetual Present, we remain
Interned by time.We've turned in the past
To soothsayers and sages to scry our fortunes,
With vague visions and evasive hereafters
Granting but glimpses of the games Fates played,
Their schemes still concealed.Now consider our Future:
Devoid of diviners, prevailing by reason,
We swap sages for science, trade
Mysticism for method. Must our vision
Still be restricted, stuck in the Now?
Can our complex, accomplished technology
Award us the wisdom once reserved
For Fates and far-seers? What fears await us
When science assumes Second Sight? -
An original 5-minute doggerel knock together...
In an obscure corner of the net
Resided the battling bastards
Screeching, arguing, but yet
Sometimes they quit flinging wordsStrangely, they really did care
What happened to one and all
Trampling the growing tares,
To lay down their mace and ballFare thee well, my electronic friend
I wish you no lasting sorrow
And that you be made whole again
That I may kick your ass on the morrow“Cry havoc and let slip the DOGE of war!”
Those who cheered as J-6 American prisoners were locked in solitary for 18 months without trial, now suddenly fight tooth and nail for foreign terrorists’ "due process". — Buck Sexton
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An original 5-minute doggerel knock together...
In an obscure corner of the net
Resided the battling bastards
Screeching, arguing, but yet
Sometimes they quit flinging wordsStrangely, they really did care
What happened to one and all
Trampling the growing tares,
To lay down their mace and ballFare thee well, my electronic friend
I wish you no lasting sorrow
And that you be made whole again
That I may kick your ass on the morrow@Jolly said in The poetry thread:
An original 5-minute doggerel knock together...
In an obscure corner of the net
Resided the battling bastards
Screeching, arguing, but yet
Sometimes they quit flinging wordsStrangely, they really did care
What happened to one and all
Trampling the growing tares,
To lay down their mace and ballFare thee well, my electronic friend
I wish you no lasting sorrow
And that you be made whole again
That I may kick your ass on the morrowAn ode to pwning libtards.
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An original 5-minute doggerel knock together...
In an obscure corner of the net
Resided the battling bastards
Screeching, arguing, but yet
Sometimes they quit flinging wordsStrangely, they really did care
What happened to one and all
Trampling the growing tares,
To lay down their mace and ballFare thee well, my electronic friend
I wish you no lasting sorrow
And that you be made whole again
That I may kick your ass on the morrow@Jolly said in The poetry thread:
An original 5-minute doggerel knock together...
In an obscure corner of the net
Resided the battling bastards
Screeching, arguing, but yet
Sometimes they quit flinging wordsStrangely, they really did care
What happened to one and all
Trampling the growing tares,
To lay down their mace and ballFare thee well, my electronic friend
I wish you no lasting sorrow
And that you be made whole again
That I may kick your ass on the morrow
Nice one! Fun turn at the end there.
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Traveling for the Easter holiday and for some weird and crazy reason, this poem got in my head instead of thoughts of spring flowers.
So, on I went. I think I never saw
Such starv’d ignoble nature; nothing throve:
For flowers—as well expect a cedar grove!
But cockle, spurge, according to their law
Might propagate their kind, with none to awe,
You ’d think; a burr had been a treasure trove.—Robert Browning, Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came
Please love yourself.
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Traveling for the Easter holiday and for some weird and crazy reason, this poem got in my head instead of thoughts of spring flowers.
So, on I went. I think I never saw
Such starv’d ignoble nature; nothing throve:
For flowers—as well expect a cedar grove!
But cockle, spurge, according to their law
Might propagate their kind, with none to awe,
You ’d think; a burr had been a treasure trove.—Robert Browning, Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came
@Aqua-Letifer said in The poetry thread:
You ’d think; a burr had been a treasure trove.
I'm like, "Okay, that's pretty good; maybe a little labored . . .
Oh wait, Browning??? I take it back, it's way good. Perfect.
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@Aqua-Letifer said in The poetry thread:
You ’d think; a burr had been a treasure trove.
I'm like, "Okay, that's pretty good; maybe a little labored . . .
Oh wait, Browning??? I take it back, it's way good. Perfect.
@Catseye3 said in The poetry thread:
@Aqua-Letifer said in The poetry thread:
You ’d think; a burr had been a treasure trove.
I'm like, "Good one; maybe a little labored . . .
Oh wait, Browning??? I take it back, it's way good. Perfect.
I'd say this is probably his densest poem. So it's challenging, even for Browning.
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Traveling for the Easter holiday and for some weird and crazy reason, this poem got in my head instead of thoughts of spring flowers.
So, on I went. I think I never saw
Such starv’d ignoble nature; nothing throve:
For flowers—as well expect a cedar grove!
But cockle, spurge, according to their law
Might propagate their kind, with none to awe,
You ’d think; a burr had been a treasure trove.—Robert Browning, Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came
@Aqua-Letifer said in The poetry thread:
Traveling for the Easter holiday and for some weird and crazy reason, this poem got in my head instead of thoughts of spring flowers.
So, on I went. I think I never saw
Such starv’d ignoble nature; nothing throve:
For flowers—as well expect a cedar grove!
But cockle, spurge, according to their law
Might propagate their kind, with none to awe,
You ’d think; a burr had been a treasure trove.—Robert Browning, Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came
So Aqua, what's wrong with me?
I read the same poem.
I read it again. And again.
And I think I kind of get a sense of what it's about.
But I'm probably wrong.
So, that's frustrating.
How is it that you love it, and I find it completely frustrating.
Not enjoyable. -
@Aqua-Letifer said in The poetry thread:
Traveling for the Easter holiday and for some weird and crazy reason, this poem got in my head instead of thoughts of spring flowers.
So, on I went. I think I never saw
Such starv’d ignoble nature; nothing throve:
For flowers—as well expect a cedar grove!
But cockle, spurge, according to their law
Might propagate their kind, with none to awe,
You ’d think; a burr had been a treasure trove.—Robert Browning, Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came
So Aqua, what's wrong with me?
I read the same poem.
I read it again. And again.
And I think I kind of get a sense of what it's about.
But I'm probably wrong.
So, that's frustrating.
How is it that you love it, and I find it completely frustrating.
Not enjoyable.Here I sit
Broken hearted
Spent a penny
And only farted
