Please login or register.

Login with username, password and session length
Advanced search  

News:

Not a Forum member? You can still subscribe to our Free Newsletter

media

Pages: 1 [2] 3

Author Topic: My favourite poem  (Read 12759 times)

ricky

  • Guest
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #15 on: November 21, 2011, 03:06:27 PM »


My hands were busy through the day,
 I didn't have much time to play
 The little games you asked me to,
 I didn't have much time for you.

 I'd wash your clothes; I'd sew and cook,
 But when you'd bring your picture book
 And ask me, please, to share your fun,
 I'd say, "A little later, son."

 I'd tuck you in all safe at night,
 And hear your prayers, turn out the light,
 Then tiptoe softly to the door,
 I wish I'd stayed a minute more.

 For life is short, and years rush past,
 A little boy grows up so fast,
 No longer is he at your side,
 His precious secrets to confide.

 The picture books are put away,
 There are no children's games to play,
 No goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear,
 That all belongs to yesteryear.

 My hands once busy, now lie still,
 The days are long and hard to fill,
 I wish I might go back and do,
 The little things you asked me to.
Logged

silverlady

  • Guest
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #16 on: November 21, 2011, 05:15:03 PM »

I have forgotten about this lovely thread, I was ladyjane then, will have to post another favourite as silverlady x

Loved both the new  poems.
« Last Edit: November 22, 2011, 09:56:47 AM by silverlady »
Logged

silverlady

  • Guest
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #17 on: November 22, 2011, 10:16:45 AM »



Kubla Khan
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1798
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
 A stately pleasure-dome decree:
 Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
 Through caverns measureless to man
 Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced;
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure
 Floated midway on the waves:
Where was heard the mingled measure
 From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
 A damsel with a dulcimer
 In a vision once I saw:
 It was an Abyssinian maid,
 And on her dulcimer she played,
 Singing of Mount Abora.
 Could I revive within me
 Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 't would win me
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

Have always loved this.

silverlady x

 




Logged

one year in

  • Guest
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #18 on: November 22, 2011, 01:07:05 PM »

More! More!  8)
Logged

silverlady

  • Guest
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #19 on: December 19, 2011, 09:40:51 AM »


Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti,

This poem is too long to post, so looked for a  youtube.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zBSLDxPWWYE

silverlady x




« Last Edit: December 20, 2011, 11:06:50 AM by silverlady »
Logged

Taz2

  • Member
  • *
  • Posts: 26662
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #20 on: December 21, 2011, 12:38:16 AM »

A Christmas Cat poem from.. my mum.

 THE STABLE CAT
(W Girt)

When Christ was born in Bethlehem
So many years ago,
Ox and ass and gentle lambs
Watched there by lantern's glow.

The stable cat would surely be
Crouched curious and shy
Adding her contented purr
To that strange lullaby.

Kits close huddled by her side
Half-hidden in the hay
The stable warmed by mother love
On that first Christmas Day.

Would that love could overflow
So that, on Christmas morn,
All lonely cats could have a home
And none be left forlorn.

But till that happy day, dear friends,
Our plea we hope you'll heed,
Please send a gift that we may give
A hand, to cats in need.

Taz x
Logged

coffee mate

  • Guest
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #21 on: December 21, 2011, 06:32:43 AM »

Here's one from our school years.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

 



 
 
 

 
Logged

JoJo42

  • Guest
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #22 on: December 21, 2011, 10:20:25 AM »

One of my all time favourites. A bit morbid but beautiful...

The Dead by Billy Collins

The dead are always looking down on us, they say,
while we are putting on our shoes or making a sandwich,
they are looking down through the glass bottom boats of heaven
as they row themselves slowly through eternity.

They watch the tops of our heads moving below on earth,
and when we lie down in a field or on a couch,
drugged perhaps by the hum of a long afternoon,
they think we are looking back at them,

which makes them lift their oars and fall silent
and wait, like parents, for us to close our eyes.
Logged

silverlady

  • Guest
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #23 on: December 21, 2011, 10:24:02 AM »

Love those poems Taz ans CM.  :-* :-*

The more I think about poems the more I remember from school, some that I had to recite and some that the teacher read to us on a lazy afternoon.

silverlady xx
Logged

JoJo42

  • Guest
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #24 on: December 21, 2011, 10:24:36 AM »

And another Billy Collins that I can totally relate to!

Forgetfulness

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.




            
Logged

coffee mate

  • Guest
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #25 on: December 21, 2011, 10:38:50 AM »

My favourite at school was this. I think one of the most famous and well known poems.
 
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

 

Logged

Taz2

  • Member
  • *
  • Posts: 26662
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #26 on: December 21, 2011, 12:29:21 PM »

Some lovely poems there. I am not too sure about the Billy Collins one about dead people. It sort of makes me shiver to think that I may one day be rowing a boat forever through eternity! The words are really well put together though.

I like this one - although OH said that I have trodden on his dreams lately - it is "our" poem  :(

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams

William Butler Yeats.


Taz x
Logged

silverlady

  • Guest
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #27 on: December 21, 2011, 04:56:05 PM »

Cloths of Heaven




Taz I remember writing that in a card to OH when I first met him, I think I was more romantic then him, I am not sure if he got it! He has trampled on some of my dreams.
silverlady xx
Logged

Dyan

  • Member
  • *
  • Posts: 4216
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #28 on: December 21, 2011, 05:53:08 PM »

Mine is,

         Daffodils by William Wordsworth

    I wondered lonely as a cloud
    that floats on high o'er vales and hills
    when all at once I saw a crowd
    a host, of golden daffodils
    Beside the lake, beneath the trees
    fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

    Continuous as the stars that shine
    and twinkle on the milky way
    they stretched in never-ending line
    along the margin of a bay.
    Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
    tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

    The waves beside them danced,but they
    out- did the sparkling waves in glee.
    A poet could not but be gay,
    In such a jocund company.
    I gazed and gazed but little thought
    what wealth the show to me had brought

    For oft,when on my couch I lie
    in vacant or in pensive mood
    they flash upon that inward eye
    which is the bliss of solitude.
    And then my heart with pleasure fills
    and dances with the daffodils.

My daughter found this in a poetry book she had bought and I felt it most appropriate for my dad, who passed 18 yrs ago, and who loved daffodils.

I have copy of this now in my remembrance box of him.

Dyan X :)
Logged

Taz2

  • Member
  • *
  • Posts: 26662
Re: My favourite poem
« Reply #29 on: December 21, 2011, 08:37:53 PM »

My mum loved daffodils too.

This poem is not that well known but I think it captures perfectly that real "being in love" feeling. OH found it for me although he is not a poem person.

Lying asleep between the strokes of night
I saw my love lean over my sad bed,
Pale as the duskiest lily's leaf or head,
Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite,
Too wan for blushing and too warm for white,
But perfect-coloured without white or red.
And her lips opened amorously, and said--
I wist not what, saving one word--Delight.
And all her face was honey to my mouth,
And all her body pasture to mine eyes;
The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire,
The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,
The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs
And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire.

Algernon Charles Swinburne.

Taz x
Logged
Pages: 1 [2] 3