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World Poetry Day
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By *bi Haive OP Man
over a year ago
Forum Mod Cheeseville, Somerset |
So. Yesterday was world poetry day and I completely forgot to mention it.
So here's your chance to post your favourite bit of poetry.
I've borrowed this from the genius that is Brian Bilston.
"Ten Rules for Aspiring Poets
1. Poetry does not have to rhyme.
Well, at least not all the time always.
2. Metaphors can lend a poem power
(although mixing them isn’t good).
Should they start to fly in all directions,
nip them in the bud.
3. Focus and concentration
are important skills to hone.
Close the door. Turn off the wi-fi.
Don’t get distracted by your ph
4. Avoid clichés like the plague.
5. Don’t write stuff that’s a bit vague.
6. The use of unnecessarily long words
may result in reader alienation.
Curb your sesquipedalianism.
Obviate all obfuscation.
7. Always proof-read you’re work.
Accuracy can be it’s own reward!
And remember that the penis
mightier than the sword.
8. Check haiku closely
for lines which have too few
or too many syllables.
9. Never ever follow rules."
A |
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By *tar80sWoman
over a year ago
Southampton |
I started Early – Took my Dog –
And visited the Sea –
The Mermaids in the Basement
Came out to look at me –
And Frigates – in the Upper Floor
Extended Hempen Hands –
Presuming Me to be a Mouse –
Aground – upon the Sands –
But no Man moved Me – till the Tide
Went past my simple Shoe –
And past my Apron – and my Belt
And past my Boddice – too –
And made as He would eat me up –
As wholly as a Dew
Opon a Dandelion's Sleeve –
And then – I started – too –
And He – He followed – close behind –
I felt His Silver Heel
Upon my Ancle – Then My Shoes
Would overflow with Pearl –
Until We met the Solid Town –
No One He seemed to know –
And bowing – with a Mighty look –
At me – The Sea withdrew –
[Emily Dickonson] |
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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One of my favourites by another hopful romantic. Somehow sbe captures some moments so perfectly.
"She wanted him. He was her definition of desire.
She never knew how engulfing the flames could be until now.
The only thing that could bring her back to life...his lips, his hands.
She would follow him to the ends of time just to have another moment with him.
All she knew was she missed him and nothing made sense until she could be with him again.
This is what it felt like to fall and not care where you land."
N.R.Hart / "Land" |
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By *bi Haive OP Man
over a year ago
Forum Mod Cheeseville, Somerset |
A bit of John Cooper Clarke and my favourite poem about love.
I WANNA BE YOURS
I wanna be your vacuum cleaner
Breathing in your dust
I wanna be your Ford Cortina
I will never rust
If you like your coffee hot
Let me be your coffee pot
You call the shots
I wanna be yours
I wanna be your raincoat
For those frequent rainy days
I wanna be your dreamboat
When you want to sail away
Let me be your teddy bear
Take me with you anywhere
I don’t care
I wanna be yours
I wanna be your electric meter
I will not run out
I wanna be the electric heater
You’ll get cold without
I wanna be your setting lotion
Hold your hair in deep devotion
Deep as the deep Atlantic ocean
That’s how deep is my devotion
A |
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OverviewLyricsAnalysisVideosListen
There's a bluebird in my heart that
Wants to get out but I'm too tough for him
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
To let anybody see you
There's a bluebird in my heart that
Wants to get out
But I pour whiskey on him and inhale
Cigarette smoke
And the whores and the bartenders
And the grocery clerks never know that
He's in there
There's a bluebird in my heart that
Wants to get out but I'm too tough for him
I say, Stay down, do you want to mess
Me up? You want to screw up the
Works? You want to blow my book sales in
Europe? There's a bluebird in my heart that
Wants to get out
But I'm too clever, I only let him out
At night sometimes when everybody's asleep
I say, I know that you're there
So don't be sad
Then I put him back
But he's singing a little
In there, I haven't quite let him die
And we sleep together like that
With our secret pact
And it's nice enough to make a man
Weep, but I don't weep, do
You?
Bluebird by Charles Bukowski |
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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There was a young lady named Alice
Who was known to have peed in a chalice.
‘Twas the common belief
It was done for relief,
And not out of protestant malice |
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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Was watching a film the other night poetry of First World War Siegfried Sassoon Wilfred Owen Ernest Hemingway really sad and a lot of it was off men but the one that got to me was off lady Margaret Cole The falling leaves |
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A lovely idea for a thread! Happy World Poetry Day, all!
My favourite poems of all are too long, sad, or both for here, but this one always makes me smile.
Valentine, by John Fuller
The things about you I appreciate
May seem indelicate:
I'd like to find you in the shower
And chase the soap for half an hour.
I'd like to have you in my power
And see your eyes dilate.
I'd like to have your back to scour
And other parts to lubricate.
Sometimes I feel it is my fate
To chase you screaming up a tower
Or make you cower
By asking you to differentiate
Nietzsche from Schopenhauer.
I'd like successfully to guess your weight
And win you at a fête.
I'd like to offer you a flower.
I like the hair upon your shoulders,
Falling like water over boulders.
I like the shoulders too: they are essential.
Your collar-bones have great potential
(I'd like your particulars in folders
Marked Confidential).
I like your cheeks, I like your nose,
I like the way your lips disclose
The neat arrangement of your teeth
(Half above and half beneath)
In rows.
I like your eyes, I like their fringes.
The way they focus on me gives me twinges.
Your upper arms drive me berserk.
I like the way your elbows work.
On hinges …
I like your wrists, I like your glands,
I like the fingers on your hands.
I'd like to teach them how to count,
And certain things we might exchange,
Something familiar for something strange.
I'd like to give you just the right amount
And get some change.
I like it when you tilt your cheek up.
I like the way you not and hold a teacup.
I like your legs when you unwind them.
Even in trousers I don't mind them.
I like each softly-moulded kneecap.
I like the little crease behind them.
I'd always know, without a recap,
Where to find them.
I like the sculpture of your ears.
I like the way your profile disappears
Whenever you decide to turn and face me.
I'd like to cross two hemispheres
And have you chase me.
I'd like to smuggle you across frontiers
Or sail with you at night into Tangiers.
I'd like you to embrace me.
I'd like to see you ironing your skirt
And cancelling other dates.
I'd like to button up your shirt.
I like the way your chest inflates.
I'd like to soothe you when you're hurt
Or frightened senseless by invertebrates.
I'd like you even if you were malign
And had a yen for sudden homicide.
I'd let you put insecticide
Into my wine.
I'd even like you if you were Bride
Of Frankenstein
Or something ghoulish out of Mamoulian's
Jekyll and Hyde.
I'd even like you as my Julian
Or Norwich or Cathleen ni Houlihan.
How melodramatic
If you were something muttering in attics
Like Mrs Rochester or a student of Boolean
Mathematics.
You are the end of self-abuse.
You are the eternal feminine.
I'd like to find a good excuse
To call on you and find you in.
I'd like to put my hand beneath your chin,
And see you grin.
I'd like to taste your Charlotte Russe,
I'd like to feel my lips upon your skin
I'd like to make you reproduce.
I'd like you in my confidence.
I'd like to be your second look.
I'd like to let you try the French Defence
And mate you with my rook.
I'd like to be your preference
And hence
I'd like to be around when you unhook.
I'd like to be your only audience,
The final name in your appointment book,
Your future tense.
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What a lovely thread OP
This is my all time favourite poem. In fact it means so much to me I am having it as a new tattoo tomorrow
[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]
By E. E. Cummings
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it(anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet)
i want no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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Today,as I rode by
I saw the brown leaves dropping from tree
In a still afternoon
When no world whirled them whistling to the sky
But thickly silent
They fell like snowflakes wiping out the noon
And wandered slowly hence
For thinking of gallant multitude
Which now all withering lay
Slain by no wind of age or pestilence
But in there beauty strewed
Like snowflakes on Flemish field
Margaret Cole
The Falling Leaves
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This is just one of my favourites
.
.
Seamus Heaney
.
.
Masons, when they start upon a building,
Are careful to test out the scaffolding;
Make sure that planks won’t slip at busy points,
Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.
And yet all this comes down when the job’s done
Showing off walls of sure and solid stone.
So if, my dear, there sometimes seem to be
Old bridges breaking between you and me
Never fear. We may let the scaffolds fall
Confident that we have built our wall. |
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By *bi Haive OP Man
over a year ago
Forum Mod Cheeseville, Somerset |
Benjamin Zephaniah
"What If?"
If you can keep your money when governments about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust your neighbour when they trust not you
And they be very nosy too;
If you can await the warm delights of summer
Then summer comes and goes with sun not seen,
And pay so much for drinking water
Knowing that the water is unclean.
If you seek peace in times of war creation,
And you can see that oil merchants are to blame,
If you can meet a pimp or politician,
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you cannot bear dis-united nations
And you think this new world order is a trick,
If you've ever tried to build good race relations,
And watch bad policing mess your work up quick.
If you can make one heap of all your savings
And risk buying a small house and plot,
Then sit back and watch the economy inflating
Then have to deal with the negative equity you've got;
If you can force your mind and body to continue
When all the social services have gone,
If you struggle on when there is nothing in you,
Except the knowledge that justice can be wrong.
If you can speak the truth to common people
Or walk with Kings and Queens and live no lie,
If you can see how power can be evil
And know that every censor is a spy;
If you can fill an unforgiving lifetime
With years of working hard to make ends meet,
You may not be wealthy but I am sure you will find
That you can hold your head high as you walk the streets.
A |
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I am Nature, the Mighty Mother,
I am the law: ye have none other.
I am the flower and the dewdrop fresh,
I am the lust in your itching flesh.
I am the battle’s filth and strain,
I am the widow’s empty pain.
I am the sea to smother your breath,
I am the bomb, the falling death.
I am the fact and the crushing reason
To thwart your fantasy’s new-born treason.
I am the spider making her net,
I am the beast with jaws blood-wet.
I am a wolf that follows the sun
And I will catch him ere day be done.
Satan Speaks, C.S Lewis |
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By *bi Haive OP Man
over a year ago
Forum Mod Cheeseville, Somerset |
More Brian Bilston.
Because it fits with some of the threads I've seen today.
"From The Encyclopedia of Alternative Facts"
Frankenstein was the monster’s name.
There’s no such thing as climate change.
A solero is a type of hat.
The planet is not round but flat.
Six is the legal drinking age.
Women are paid an equal wage.
Elvis was influenced by Take That.
The planet is not round but flat.
Achilles had a dodgy knee.
Terror comes from refugees.
Insomnia affects most cats.
The planet is not round but flat.
There are no fascists on the rise.
A politician never lies.
It’s impossible to change a fact.
The planet is not round but flat.
A |
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I love this by Hollie Holden
Today I asked my body what she needed,
Which is a big deal
Considering my journey of
Not Really Asking That Much.
I thought she might need more water.
Or protein.
Or greens.
Or yoga.
Or supplements.
Or movement.
But as I stood in the shower
Reflecting on her stretch marks,
Her roundness where I would like flatness,
Her softness where I would like firmness,
All those conditioned wishes
That form a bundle of
Never-Quite-Right-Ness,
She whispered very gently:
Could you just love me like this? |
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By *eliWoman
over a year ago
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Happy belated poetry day you wonderful people!
So I've got a few, will probably dip in and out with extracts.
But this is a paragraph of one of my absolute favourite more contemporary poems, by Sierra DeMulde.
"When the apocalypse does come,
I will rebuild our city with my tongue.
I will suck this world’s ashes from your fingers.
I will refuse to let the fires of this hell
be the only thing that makes us sweat.
When the apocalypse comes,
so will we." |
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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I could post soo many of these, both mine and one's that inspired me. Poetry was how I 1st learned how to to explain my feelings and express them. I'm going to drop this one in as it was the 1st that truly opened my eyes to how powerful they can be.
Today is filled with anger
fueled with hidden hate
scared of being outcast
afraid of common fate
Today is built on tragedies
which no one wants 2 face
nightmares 2 humanities
and morally disgraced
Tonight is filled with rage
violence in the air
children bred with ruthlessness
because no one at home cares
Tonight I lay my head down
but the pressure never stops
knawing at my sanity
content when I am dropped
But 2morrow I c change
a chance 2 build a new
Built on spirit intent of Heart
and ideals
based on truth
and tomorrow I wake with second wind
and strong because of pride
2 know I fought with all my heart 2 keep my dream alive |
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Beyond the wild oats,
What awaits the soul,
Is there an honesty
A truth Bourne to all,
Passions speak aloud,
Be it lust, love or friendship,
There is something,
That cannot be denied,
Allow it to overwhelme,
For it is a truth undoubted,
In dreams we are connected,
In life apart,
A decision awaits,
Dare we connect.
One of my own poems |
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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Emma Hackett's Newsbook
Last night my mum
Got really mad
And threw a jam tart
At my dad.
Dad lost his temper
Then with mother,
Threw one at her
And hit my brother.
My brother thought
It was my sister,
Threw two at her
But somehow missed her.
My sister,
She is only three,
Hurled four at him
And one at me!
I said I wouldn't
Stand for that,
Aimed one at her
And hit the cat.
The cat jumped up
Like he'd been shot,
And landed
In the baby's cot.
The baby -
Quietly sucking his thumb -
Then started howling
For my mum.
At which my mum
Got really mad,
And threw a Swiss roll
At my dad.
~Allan Ahlberg
My all time favourite |
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If been a favorite of mine
The other day I was full of rhyme
But sadly it fell on stoney ground
Apart from the moderator here the lovely lady accept with good cheer .
My rhyme may not suit all but cant helpself when the mood comes
be they short or long a bit rhyme
Can make you smile .
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