Poetry Thread

[Singh]

Calling all poetry loving DFItes to post their favourite poems and poets.

 

[Singh]

Fernando Pessoa, born Fernando António Nogueira de Seabra Pessoa (June 13, 1888, Lisbon – November 30, 1935, Lisbon), was a Portuguese poet, writer, literary critic and translator described as one of the most significant literary figures of the 20th century and one of the greatest poets in the Portuguese language.

Fernando Pessoa - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Uber interesting biography, if anyone is interested.

Desde que sinta a brisa fresca no meu cabelo
E ver o sol brilhar forte nas folhas
Não irei pedir por mais.
Que melhor coisa podia o destino dar-me?
Que a passagem sensual da vida em momentos
De ignorância como este?
___________________________________________________
As long as I feel the fresh breeze in my hair
And see the sun shining strong on the leaves,
I will not ask for more.
What better thing could destiny grant me?
Other than the sensual passing of life in moments
Of ignorance such as this one?

 

[trackwhack]

Leisure

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

William Henry Davies

 

[Tomcat]

the day my hope was born
today is the day my hope was born

a hope that changed me from a kid to a boy

from a boy to a man

a hope that forces me to march forward

to make my life better

she drives me to preform

i am complete only because of her

the world took her away from me

But absolutely no one can take her away from my heart

where she will be with me till the day i die

Thank you hope thank you for your inspiration

and my god almighty full fill all you wishes

 

[W.G.Ewald]

Tomcat, is that your own poem?

 

[W.G.Ewald]

Defence Of Fort McHenry

O! say can you see by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming,
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there;
O! say does that star-spangled banner yet wave,
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:
'Tis the star-spangled banner, O! long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion,
A home and a country, should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave,
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

O! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the war's desolation.
Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the Heav'n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust;"
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

 

[W.G.Ewald]

AULD LANG SYNE

by: Robert Burns (1759-1796)

Chorus

FOR auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!

I

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

II

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine,
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne!

III

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu'd the gowans fine,
But we've wander'd monie a weary foot
Sin' auld lang syne.

IV

We twa hae paidl'd in the burn
Frae mornin sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin' auld lang syne.

V

And here's a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o' thine,
And we'll take a right quid-willie waught,
For auld lang syne!

Chorus

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne!

 

[W.G.Ewald]

THE AWFUL BUGABOO

Eugene Field

There was an awful Bugaboo
Whose Eyes were Red and Hair was Blue;
His Teeth were Long and Sharp and White
And he went prowling 'round at Night.

A little Girl was Tucked in Bed,
A pretty Night Cap on her Head;
Her Mamma heard her Pleading Say,
"Oh, do not Take the Lamp away!"

But Mamma took away the lamp
And oh, the Room was Dark and Damp;
The Little Girl was Scared to Death--
She did not Dare to Draw her Breath.

And all at once the Bugaboo
Came Rattling down the Chimney Flue;
He Perched upon the little Bed
And scratched the Girl until she bled.

He drank the Blood and Scratched again--
The little Girl cried out in vain--
He picked her up and Off he Flew--
This Naughty, Naughty Bugaboo!

So, children when in Bed to-night,
Don't let them Take away the Light,
Or else the Awful Bugaboo
May come and Fly away with You.

 

[trackwhack]

Simon Snoots Whiskers

T'was a long time ago,
Come next Friday,
That Simon Sebastian Snoot,
Set out one fine day,
to enlist in, The Hundred and Thirtieth Foot.

Now a handsome young soldier was Simon,
the pride of the ladies for miles.
With a pair of the duckiest whiskers
and one of those dentifrice smiles.

Now Simon was proud of his whiskers,
he would comb them while going to bed
and secretly rub them with onions,
to cause them to flourish and spread.
and the longer they grew and more glossy, a sort of a gingery shade,
the sergeants got jealous, a low lot of fellows,
and Simon was checked on parade.

"Say, whats all that stuff?
That seaweed which grows on your face?
It may be allright in the Navy,
but here it is quite out of place!
We have'nt got room for a soldier
who doesnt look tidy and neat,
so get back to barracks, my hearty,
and shave off those feathers, tout de suite!"

"My pardon", said Simon, saluting,
"but really I'm bound to refuse,
these whiskers of mine are expensive,
they cost me a lot in shampoos!"

They're the pride and delight of the army,
these wonderful fringes of mine,
and sooner than lose them, dear sergeant,
I think I'd prefer to resign!

So the sergeant he sent for the captain,
who stormed at the subborn recruit,
"Why, that's not a beard, it's an ambush,
come out of the undergrowth, Snoot!"

Now Simon was hard and resented,
the insult that was cast on his face,
"Your remarks, Sir, are uncalled for,
unkindly and quite out of place!"

So the captain he sent for the Colonel,
who stuttered and stammered and swore,
the colonel used language infernal,
and stomped to and fro on the floor.

"Come out of the bushes!" he bellowed,
with adjectives common and coarse,
"You Hairy Gorilla, arrest him!
and shave off that fungus by force!"

Now Simon went down on his marrows,
and cried with a pitiful moan,
"Oh, put me in clink for a fortnight,
but leave my whiskers alone!
For think how they'd help a poor soldier,
in keeping his chest nice and warm,
and when we're told to take cover,
they help me weather the storm!"

"The enemy may think I'm a gross bush,
or maybe a bundle of hay,
oh, take my Victoria Cross, Sir!
but leave my Whiskers I pray!"

But the Colonel was harder than iron,
and cried with a terrible shout,
"You'll have them shaved off,
or by God I'll have you and your whiskers drummed out!

So the next morning Simon paraded,
and out of the army was packed,
with no where to go and no money,
but still with his whiskers intact.

"I'll go the the workhouse, where board and lodging are free,
but stay, here's a travelling circus,
a bearded lady I'll be!

So he went to the circus proprietor,
and told him his tale with a sob,
and curious fate, too strange to relate,
the circus man gave him a job!

In a second hand shirt and a jumper,
and a couple of pink petticoats,
Simon crept into his tent which he shared with,
a pair of performing goats.

And when the moonlight shown down on his whiskers,
for which he made such a fight,
the goats thought they were a new kind of hay /
and chewed them all off at night!

 

[W.G.Ewald]

Abdul Abulbul Amir

The sons of the Prophet are brave men and bold
And quite unaccustomed to fear,
But the bravest by far in the ranks of the Shah,
Was Abdul Abulbul Amir.

If you wanted a man to encourage the van,
Or harass the foe from the rear,
Storm fort or redoubt, you had only to shout
For Abdul Abulbul Amir.

Now the heroes were plenty and well known to fame
In the troops that were led by the Czar,
And the bravest of these was a man by the name
Of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

One day this bold Russian, he shouldered his gun
And donned his most truculent sneer,
Downtown he did go where he trod on the toe
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir.

Young man, quoth Abdul, has life grown so dull
That you wish to end your career?
Vile infidel, know, you have trod on the toe
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir.

So take your last look at the sunshine and brook
And send your regrets to the Czar
For by this I imply, you are going to die,
Count Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

Then this bold Mameluke drew his trusty skibouk,
Singing, "Allah! Il Allah! Al-lah!"
And with murderous intent he ferociously went
For Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

They parried and thrust, they side-stepped and cussed,
Of blood they spilled a great part;
The philologist blokes, who seldom crack jokes,
Say that hash was first made on the spot.

They fought all that night neath the pale yellow moon;
The din, it was heard from afar,
And huge multitudes came, so great was the fame,
Of Abdul and Ivan Skavar.

As Abdul's long knife was extracting the life,
In fact he was shouting, "Huzzah!"
He felt himself struck by that wily Calmuck,
Count Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

The Sultan drove by in his red-breasted fly,
Expecting the victor to cheer,
But he only drew nigh to hear the last sigh,
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir.

There's a tomb rises up where the Blue Danube rolls,
And graved there in characters clear,
Is, "Stranger, when passing, oh pray for the soul
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir."

A splash in the Black Sea one dark moonless night
Caused ripples to spread wide and far,
It was made by a sack fitting close to the back,
Of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

A Muscovite maiden her lone vigil keeps,
'Neath the light of the cold northern star,
And the name that she murmurs in vain as she weeps,
Is Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

William Percy French

 

[p2prada]

When I born, I black.
When I grow up, I black.
When I go in sun, I black.
When I cold, I black.
When I scared, I black.
When I sick, I black.
And when I die, I still black.

And you white people.
When you born, you pink.
When you grow up, you white.
When you go in sun, you red.
When you cold, you blue.
When you scared, you yellow.
When you sick, you green
And when you die, you grey"¦

And you calling me colored??

-Malcom X (supposedly, but I am not sure.)

 

[civfanatic]

^^Highly doubtful that Malcolm X wrote that.

 

[p2prada]

Yeah. It may be anonymous as is known.

 

[civfanatic]

One day an eagle rose up from his rock
and, full of greed, spread all his plumage out,
arranged his wings correctly and spoke thus:
'Today the world is all beneath my wings!
If I fly high the sun no longer sees me,
while I see dust specks in the ocean's depth;
and should a gnat be crawling in the dust,
my eye beholds the insect's movements too!'
Thus he showed off, not fearing God's decree.
What happened to him from the cruel sphere?
For suddenly from out a hiding place
an arrow came, shot from a mighty bow.
The piercing arrow hit the eagle's wing
and cast him from the cloud onto the dust.
He wriggled in the dust just like a fish
and all his plumage fell there left and right.
'How strange!' said he, 'This thing is steel and wood!
How could it be so swift, so piercing sharp?'
He looked and saw his feathers on the arrow
and screamed: 'From me came what came over me!'
O Khusraw! Cast out your ego and your selfishness!
Look at this eagle, full of selfish pride!
It was his selfishness, excessive sense of self,
That brought him down.

- Nasir Khusraw, 11th century

 

[utubekhiladi]

I'm the boss
You do not cross
The king of my domain
For the day
No work, all play
Is found in my refrain

Love to eat
The prime of meat
So sad 'til I get some
'Tis so sweet
And such a treat
Boy, they can be so dumb

Hate to dress
Give me caress
No bother with the slime
Have to dig
In it real big
Archaeology time

When I'm beat
I have a seat
Take my favorite spot
No compete
It's so complete
Out of my royal cot!

Here to stay
I love to lay
Napping is not a farse
I'm a dog
Who's a couch hog
So move your big fat arse!

 

[utubekhiladi]

There was a naughty boy,
And a naughty boy was he,
He ran away to Scotland
The people for to see-
There he found
That the ground
Was as hard,
That a yard
Was as long,
That a song
Was as merry,
That a cherry
Was as red,
That lead
Was as weighty,
That fourscore
Was as eighty,
That a door
Was as wooden
As in England-
So he stood in his shoes
And he wonder'd,
He wonder'd,
He stood in his
Shoes and he wonder'd.

 

[W.G.Ewald]

The Eagle and the Mole

Avoid the reeking herd,
Shun the polluted flock,
Live like that stoic bird,
The eagle of the rock.

The huddled warmth of crowds
Begets and fosters hate;
He keeps above the clouds
His cliff inviolate.

When flocks are folded warm,
And herds to shelter run,
He sails above the storm,
He stares into the sun.

If in the eagle's track
Your sinews cannot leap,
Avoid the lathered pack,
Turn from the steaming sheep.

If you would keep your soul
From spotted sight or sound,
Live like the velvet mole:
Go burrow underground.

And there hold intercourse
With roots of trees and stones,
With rivers at their source,
And disembodied bones.

Elinor Wylie

 

[pmaitra]

The Charge of the Light Brigade

The Charge of the Light Brigade


Alfred, Lord Tennyson


1.
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.


2.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.


3.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.


4.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.


5.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.


6.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.

 

[pmaitra]

Mending Wall

Mending Wall


Robert Frost. 1875–


SOMETHING there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing: 5
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made, 10
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go. 15
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
"Stay where you are until our backs are turned!"
We wear our fingers rough with handling them. 20
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
He is all pine and I am apple-orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. 25
He only says, "Good fences make good neighbors."
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
"Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows. 30
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down!" I could say "Elves" to him, 35
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there,
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me, 40
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."

 

[pmaitra]

The Unknown Citizen

The Unknown Citizen

by W. H. Auden


(To JS/07 M 378
This Marble Monument
Is Erected by the State)


He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all the reports on his conduct agree
That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint,
For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired,
But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views,
For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
And our Social Psychology workers found
That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.
Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
And his Health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured.
Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Instalment Plan
And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.
Our researchers into Public Opinion are content
That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;
When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war, he went.
He was married and added five children to the population,
Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation.
And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education.
Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.