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poem of the moment
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madameshawshank



Joined: 30 Sep 2004
Posts: 1654
Location: Penrith (where jacarandas remind me of change), New South Wales, Australia

PostPosted: Sat Jul 08, 2006 2:36 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

oh I'm quite sure the mice Clotilde et Maxence are playing in the USA!

'n of things sheepish:

http://www.ralphwindle.com/uk_British_poet_bertie_ramsbottom.htm

play on shall we Wink
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"I've never accepted the external appearance of things as the whole truth. The world is much more elaborate than the nerves of our eye can tell us." - James Gleeson
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madameshawshank



Joined: 30 Sep 2004
Posts: 1654
Location: Penrith (where jacarandas remind me of change), New South Wales, Australia

PostPosted: Sun Jul 09, 2006 8:18 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Awake

There's one awake in the fern world
in the forest of my heart
meeting word with word
linking countries to the eye
making bluebell of my hearing

groping the underworld
in frond places, you are taking
thoughts, separating eye-beams
reaching the pulse-magic
of my expression

so call for my heart
bud the daydream flower
turn the night, meet
the minutes' hour with stars
and leave no space for yearning

Dorian la Gallienne
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"I've never accepted the external appearance of things as the whole truth. The world is much more elaborate than the nerves of our eye can tell us." - James Gleeson


Last edited by madameshawshank on Sun Jul 09, 2006 10:22 pm; edited 1 time in total
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gingerpale



Joined: 23 Jan 2006
Posts: 1324

PostPosted: Sun Jul 09, 2006 3:40 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

poem

Last edited by gingerpale on Thu Aug 31, 2006 2:24 am; edited 1 time in total
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madameshawshank



Joined: 30 Sep 2004
Posts: 1654
Location: Penrith (where jacarandas remind me of change), New South Wales, Australia

PostPosted: Sun Jul 09, 2006 10:45 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Rolling Eyes

gingerpale...big error...forget the composer...Joy Hester...1951...her poem

http://bulletin.ninemsn.com.au/bulletin/eddesk.nsf/articleIDs/c8b26bf55ff477eeca256a540023cad7?OpenDocument&Click=

now, I wonder what poem awaits..oh I know...I'll go and fetch the poem I learnt for my 50th birthday party...

a few things to do today ...so will be looking forward to sharing the massive laughter of the night...will be back in a few hours..

hugs to the poetry in all our spirits..
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"I've never accepted the external appearance of things as the whole truth. The world is much more elaborate than the nerves of our eye can tell us." - James Gleeson
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gingerpale



Joined: 23 Jan 2006
Posts: 1324

PostPosted: Sun Jul 09, 2006 11:40 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

link

Last edited by gingerpale on Thu Aug 31, 2006 2:25 am; edited 1 time in total
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madameshawshank



Joined: 30 Sep 2004
Posts: 1654
Location: Penrith (where jacarandas remind me of change), New South Wales, Australia

PostPosted: Sun Jul 09, 2006 11:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Carolyn Hester? a new name for me...will do some research 'n listen..

Some can look horror straight in the eye...others peek at horror..others turn away and pretend it isn't there..

hugs
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"I've never accepted the external appearance of things as the whole truth. The world is much more elaborate than the nerves of our eye can tell us." - James Gleeson
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madameshawshank



Joined: 30 Sep 2004
Posts: 1654
Location: Penrith (where jacarandas remind me of change), New South Wales, Australia

PostPosted: Mon Jul 10, 2006 11:37 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thought I'd learn a poem to recite at my 50th birthday...selected "The Book Hunter" by Frank Dempster Sherman (1860-1916). I found it in a book "Old Chestnuts Warmed Up" ~ John R. Murray...a collection of poems he thought worth memorising...

give it a go thought I..

The night of the party..at my sister in law's...rain like you wouldn't believe..lots and lots of people...tarps covering the back deck...my son had made the most wondrous crocquembouche with a chocolate ribbon 'n bow ...'twas fabulous..

anyway..time for the poem...I stood on a chair..and began...well so did more torrents of rain..there was laughter because noone had a clue what the hell I was doing..nor could they hear me because of the pelting water...part of the tarp collapsed under the weight of the water...drenching my dear darling sister Marie...

all in all a night I'll not forget....nor will I forget the joy of memorising the poem...I'd copy a few lines and go for a walk...along the nearby riverbank...was great fun..

I do hope you enjoy it as well Very Happy ~ the images he creates...his words..a gift ..

CUP of coffee, eggs, and rolls
Sustain him on his morning strolls:
Unconscious of the passers-by,
He trudges on with downcast eye;
He wears a queer old hat and coat,
Suggestive of a style remote;
His manner is preoccupied,--
A shambling gait, from side to side.
For him the sleek, bright-windowed shop
Is all in vain, -- he does not stop.
His thoughts are fixed on dusty shelves
Where musty volumes hide themselves,--
Rare prints of poetry and prose,
And quaintly lettered folios,--
Perchance a parchment manuscript,
In some forgotten corner slipped,
Or monk-illumined missal bound
In vellum with brass clasps around;
These are the pictured things that throng
His mind the while he walks along.

A dingy street, a cellar dim,
With book-lined walls, suffices him.
The dust is white upon his sleeves;
He turns the yellow, dog-eared leaves
With just the same religious look
That priests give to the Holy Book.
He does not heed the stifling air
If so he find a treasure there.
He knows rare books, like precious wines,
Are hidden where the sun ne’er shines;
For him delicious flavors dwell
In books as in old Muscatel;
He finds in features of the type
A clew to prove the grape was ripe.
And when he leaves this dismal place,
Behold, a smile lights up his face!
Upon his cheeks a genial glow,--
Within his hand Boccaccio,
A first edition worn with age,
“Firenze” on the title-page.
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sweetbabyjames



Joined: 05 May 2006
Posts: 357

PostPosted: Mon Jul 10, 2006 4:40 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

madameshawshank, you paint a lovely picture. "Collecting the moments one by one," as the song says.

Happy 50 to you!
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gingerpale



Joined: 23 Jan 2006
Posts: 1324

PostPosted: Mon Jul 10, 2006 7:58 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

chair

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sweetbabyjames



Joined: 05 May 2006
Posts: 357

PostPosted: Mon Jul 10, 2006 10:56 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Spring Essence by Hò Xuân Hu'o'ng

Picking Flowers

If you want to pick flowers, you have to hike.
Climbing up, don't worry about your weary bones.

Pluck the low branches, pull down the high.
Enjoy alike the spent blossoms, the tight buds.
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madameshawshank



Joined: 30 Sep 2004
Posts: 1654
Location: Penrith (where jacarandas remind me of change), New South Wales, Australia

PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 12:20 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

goosebumps Wink
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"I've never accepted the external appearance of things as the whole truth. The world is much more elaborate than the nerves of our eye can tell us." - James Gleeson
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sweetbabyjames



Joined: 05 May 2006
Posts: 357

PostPosted: Tue Jul 25, 2006 12:39 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

pardon...

Last edited by sweetbabyjames on Thu Aug 10, 2006 9:59 pm; edited 1 time in total
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madameshawshank



Joined: 30 Sep 2004
Posts: 1654
Location: Penrith (where jacarandas remind me of change), New South Wales, Australia

PostPosted: Tue Jul 25, 2006 1:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

a dose of Edna St Vincent Milley (one of the joys of my visit to NYC was walking the street where she lived...that oh oh oh so tiny house!) ~ I suppose too big a dose of Edna might be a bit toooooo much...ah, the drama of her..the passion of her...the texture of her language...I, for one, am glad to ma bones she put pen to paper Smile

Dirge Without Music

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,--but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the
love, --
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not
approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the
world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

***********************************

which sort of reminds me of the chorus of Patty Larkin's song "Beg to Differ"

You say everybody's marching to the same beat
Marching to the same beat of the drum
Everybody's thinking of the same thing
But I will I will I will
Beg to differ with you

I can seriously sing this full belt!!!!
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katedefontaine



Joined: 25 Jul 2006
Posts: 2

PostPosted: Tue Jul 25, 2006 3:13 pm    Post subject: depth vs clever Reply with quote

'Dirge without music' and 'well I have lost you' by mrs vincent millay are worth reading daily.

Emotion still lives despite the world being swamped by rationalists, many of whom pick poems apart until we lose all attachment to them.In that mind I add the following poem by Billy Collins.

INTRODUCTION TO POETRY.


I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a colour slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
And feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.



-------------------------------------------
The whiz-faster, flick-through, hurry-past, phone-in-one-hand-sandwich-in-the-other-got-no-time-for-anything in life is not life, which is why poetry rebukes it. Poetry is slow enough for breathing and blood flow. -JW
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madameshawshank



Joined: 30 Sep 2004
Posts: 1654
Location: Penrith (where jacarandas remind me of change), New South Wales, Australia

PostPosted: Tue Jul 25, 2006 11:33 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

katedefontaine ~ am I a happy gal that you've posted here..and to think the poetry thread is your #1 post!!!!

hadn't heard of Billy Collins, so immediately typed in his name...and what fun I've had....my smile was reading along with my eyes...his tale on poetry...yep, that bashing a poem to bits...that's how I felt at school..and so had no bone-deep connection to the words..

now! since I'm free as a bluebird...the words gently coat me...and I wear poems...

the tshirt of a poem
the straw hat of a poem
the scarfsilk of a poem
they all clothe me
yet delightfully not Wink

how about another dose of Billy Boy Wink (those ample sleeves he writes of...I wonder about those of us with non-ample sleeves, still with stuff up them Confused ..the uncomfortableness of it...the choice to carry such a lot in those tight sleeves..

ah, for nakedness I doth say...ah!

welcome on board the good ship C&Z katedefontaine...and here I am a wondering where on this Planet Earth you reside...


Reading An Anthology Of Chinese Poems Of The Sung Dynasty, I Pause To Admire The Length And Clarity Of Their Titles


It seems these poets have nothing
up their ample sleeves
they turn over so many cards so early,
telling us before the first line
whether it is wet or dry,
night or day, the season the man is standing in,
even how much he has had to drink.

Maybe it is autumn and he is looking at a sparrow.
Maybe it is snowing on a town with a beautiful name.

"Viewing Peonies at the Temple of Good Fortune
on a Cloudy Afternoon" is one of Sun Tung Po's.
"Dipping Water from the River and Simmering Tea"
is another one, or just
"On a Boat, Awake at Night."

And Lu Yu takes the simple rice cake with
"In a Boat on a Summer Evening
I Heard the Cry of a Waterbird.
It Was Very Sad and Seemed To Be Saying
My Woman Is Cruel--Moved, I Wrote This Poem."

There is no iron turnstile to push against here
as with headings like "Vortex on a String,"
"The Horn of Neurosis," or whatever.
No confusingly inscribed welcome mat to puzzle over.

Instead, "I Walk Out on a Summer Morning
to the Sound of Birds and a Waterfall"
is a beaded curtain brushing over my shoulders.

And "Ten Days of Spring Rain Have Kept Me Indoors"
is a servant who shows me into the room
where a poet with a thin beard
is sitting on a mat with a jug of wine
whispering something about clouds and cold wind,
about sickness and the loss of friends.

How easy he has made it for me to enter here,
to sit down in a corner,
cross my legs like his, and listen.
_________________
"I've never accepted the external appearance of things as the whole truth. The world is much more elaborate than the nerves of our eye can tell us." - James Gleeson


Last edited by madameshawshank on Tue Jul 25, 2006 11:41 pm; edited 1 time in total
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