Ross Miller
- Location: London Road, Dover
- Registered: 17 Sep 2008
- Posts: 3,706
I didnt write them - the syllable pattern is less strictly enforced in non Japanese Haiku, also it is not obligatory to mention the season either.
http://www.ahapoetry.com/keirule.htm"Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you'll die today." - James Dean
"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength,
While loving someone deeply gives you courage" - Laozi
Brian Dixon
- Location: Dover
- Registered: 23 Sep 2008
- Posts: 23,940
another tennyson for your pleasure.
Come Into the Garden
Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, Night, has flown,
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone;
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
And the musk of the roses blown.
For a breeze of morning moves,
And the planet of Love is on high,
Beginning to faint in the light that she loves
On a bed of daffodil sky,
To faint in the light of the sun she loves,
To faint in his light, and to die.
All night have the roses heard
The flute, violin, bassoon;
All night has the casement jessamine stirr'd
To the dancers dancing in tune:
Till a silence fell with the waking bird,
And a hush with the setting moon.
I said to the lily, "There is but one
With whom she has heart to be gay.
When will the dancers leave her alone?
She is weary of dance and play."
Now half to the setting moon are gone,
And half to the rising day;
Low on the sand and loud on the stone
The last wheel echoes away.
I said to the rose, "The brief night goes
In babble and revel and wine.
O young lordlover, what sighs are those
For one that will never be thine?
But mine, but mine," so I sware to the rose,
"For ever and ever, mine."
And the soul of the rose went into my blood,
As the music clash'd in the hall;
And long by the garden lake I stood,
For I heard your rivulet fall
From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood,
Our wood, that is dearer than all;
From the meadow your walks have left so sweet
That whenever a March-wind sighs
He sets the jewelprint of your feet
In violets blue as your eyes,
To the woody hollows in which we meet
And the valleys of Paradise.
The slender acacia would not shake
One long milk-bloom on the tree;
The white lake-blossom fell into the lake,
As the pimpernel dozed on the lea;
But the rose was awake all night for your sake,
Knowing your promise to me;
The lilies and roses were all awake,
They sigh'd for the dawn and thee.
Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,
Come hither, the dances are done,
In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls,
Queen lily and rose in one;
Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls,
To the flowers, and be their sun.
There has fallen a splendid tear
From the passion-flower at the gate.
She is coming, my dove, my dear;
She is coming, my life, my fate;
The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"
And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"
The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;"
And the lily whispers, "I wait."
She is coming, my own, my sweet;
Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
Were it earth in an earthy bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a century dead;
Would start and tremble under her feet,
And blossom in purple and red.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
howard mcsweeney1- Location: Dover
- Registered: 12 Mar 2008
- Posts: 62,352
never had you down as a culture vulture brian, clearly you have hidden depths.
notice i did not say well hidden.
Jan Higgins
- Location: Dover
- Registered: 5 Jul 2010
- Posts: 13,878
This is getting to high brow for me how about this one for the children amongst us.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
Alice is marrying one of the guard.
"A soldier's life is terrible hard,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We saw a guard in a sentry-box.
"One of the sergeants looks after their socks,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We looked for the King, but he never came.
"Well, God take care of him, all the same,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
They've great big parties inside the grounds.
"I wouldn't be King for a hundred pounds,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
A face looked out, but it wasn't the King's.
"He's much too busy a-signing things,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
"Do you think the King knows all about me?"
"Sure to, dear, but it's time for tea,"
Says Alice.
Alan Alexander Milne 1882-1956
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I try to be neutral and polite but it is hard and getting even more difficult at times.
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Guest 700- Registered: 11 Jun 2010
- Posts: 2,868
i've still got my old 78rpm record of this, Jan.
Ah, memories...
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Lincolnshire Born and Bred
Brian Dixon- Location: Dover
- Registered: 23 Sep 2008
- Posts: 23,940
howard,just showing my soft side.
to be honest i'm fed up with reading politics all the time.
Guest 645- Registered: 12 Mar 2008
- Posts: 4,463
My daughter, Natascha, will kill me but here is her poem that she wrote for a school project last year aged 10 .Totally unbeknown to us
EMOTIONS
When I am sad I feel like a white feather
Floating in the air,being pushed away
From all civilization
I am a red hot billowing volcano
When I am angry
Sizzling and bubbling lava
Creeping down my face
In the middle of the night
When I feel lonely...
I am a grey,dusty painting
Alone in the attic,
Where the sun never shines.
Stuffed away in the corner,
With a sheet of my famous Monet painting.
I feel like a green book,
When I am jealous.
Seeing all the other books being read,
When I am forgotten about
And I'm left on the shelf.
I envy them so much I might even explode.
When I am afraid, I am a new born snow, white rabbit,
Wondering what might happen if I go out of my sweet home.
If I might get hurt or get run over,
And if I get lost in the big world.
I am a brown, oak chair, when I am safe,
Inside a lovely, warm home safe from danger.
Sat with other household objects
In a room protected from thieves.
I feel like the Cornish coast sea, when I am calm,
With the sun glaring on my back
As I come in and out of the beach.
The touch of people's feet dipping in me.
I am a buzzing yellow bee, when I am happy,
Hopping to different flowers collecting nectar
And feeling the wind through my hair.
The golden sun beaming on the lovely flowers.
It won an award after being entered by the school in an island competition. We didn.t even know about it until the end of term...kids eh
Marek
I think therefore I am (not a Tory supporter)
Alec Sheldon
- Location: Dover
- Registered: 18 Aug 2008
- Posts: 1,037
Beans, beans, they're good for the heart,
The more you eat the more you f--t,
The more you f--t the better you feel,
So we'll have beans for every meal.
Anon.
Dedicated to Vic.
Guest 703- Registered: 30 Jul 2010
- Posts: 2,096
If born again I think I'd like
To be the saddle on a bike
I think that was John Betjeman but whoever it was was a randy old so and so.
( I can feel a Friday afternoon influence coming into this thread
)
Guest 710- Registered: 28 Feb 2011
- Posts: 6,950
"sat with other household objects..."
Does this make you the welsh dresser Marek?
Ignorance is bliss, bliss is happiness, I am happy...to draw your attention to the possible connectivity in the foregoing.
Guest 710- Registered: 28 Feb 2011
- Posts: 6,950
Your daughter does have a real knack with simile and metaphor Marek and a well developed imagination too.
The next JK Rowling?
Ignorance is bliss, bliss is happiness, I am happy...to draw your attention to the possible connectivity in the foregoing.
Guest 700- Registered: 11 Jun 2010
- Posts: 2,868
Marek - what a wonderful poem of your daughter's, very imaginative and has a real gift for words. A very clever young woman.
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Lincolnshire Born and Bred
howard mcsweeney1- Location: Dover
- Registered: 12 Mar 2008
- Posts: 62,352
she comes across with that as a very deep young girl, clearly very talented.
Guest 644- Registered: 12 Mar 2008
- Posts: 1,214
Most people who aware of the dreadful Victorian Scottish poet William Topaz McGonagall prefer 'The Tay Bridge Disaster' as their ultimate travesty of a poem. This, however, is my favourite:
Calamity in London
Family of Ten Burned to Death
'Twas in the year of 1897, and on the night of Christmas day,
That ten persons' lives were taken sway,
By a destructive fire in London, at No. 9 Dixie Street,
Alas! so great was the fire, the victims couldn't retreat.
In Dixie Street, No. 9, if was occupied by two families,
Who were all quite happy, and sitting at their ease;
One of these was a labourer, David Barber and his wife,
And a dear little child, he loved as his life.
Barber's mother and three sisters were living on the ground floor,
And in the upper two rooms lived a family who were very poor,
And all had retired to rest, on the night of Christmas day,
Never dreaming that by ~e their lives would be taken away.
Barber got up on Sunday morning to prepare breakfast for his family,
And a most appalling sight he then did see;
For he found the room was full of smoke,
So dense, indeed, that it nearly did him choke.
Then fearlessly to the room door he did creep,
And tried to aronse the inmates, who were asleep;
And succeeded in getting his own family out into the street,
And to him the thought thereof was surely very sweet.
And by this time the heroic Barber's strength was failing,
And his efforts to warn the family upstairs were unavailing;
And, before the alarm was given, the house was in flames,
Which prevented anything being done, after all his pains.
Oh! it was a horrible and heart-rending sight
To see the house in a blaze of lurid light,
And the roof fallen in, and the windows burnt out,
Alas! 'tis pitiful to relate, without any doubt.
Oh, Heaven! 'tis a dreadful calamity to narrate,
Because the victims have met with a cruel fate;
Little did they think they were going to lose their lives by fire,
On that night when to their beds they did retire.
It was sometime before the gutted house could be entered in,
Then to search for the bodies the officers in charge did begin;
And a horrifying spectacle met their gaze,
Which made them stand aghast in a fit of amaze.
Sometime before the firemen arrived,
Ten persons of their lives had been deprived,
By the choking smoke, and merciless flame,
Which will long in the memory of their relatives remain.
Oh, Heaven! if was a frightful and pitiful sight to see
Seven bodies charred of the Jarvis' family;
And Mrs Jarvis was found with her child, and both carbonised,
And as the searchers gazed thereon they were surprised.
And these were lying beside the fragments of the bed,
And in a chair the tenth victim was sitting dead;
Oh, Horrible! Oh, Horrible! what a sight to behold,
The charred and burnt bodies of young and old.
Good people of high and low degree,
Oh! think of this sad catastrophe,
And pray to God to protect ye from fire,
Every night before to your beds ye retire.
Guest 710- Registered: 28 Feb 2011
- Posts: 6,950
Well Phil, you have given me a high peak for which to aim, and no mistake. The street itself seems to have gone, but there is a clipping from the Times here...
http://www.mcgonagall-online.org.uk/poems/mpgcalam.htm
P.S.
You are sure to know of the clever wheezes some sites use to identify when their efforts are c&p-ed. All that proof reading although a pain is worth the effort. :)
Ignorance is bliss, bliss is happiness, I am happy...to draw your attention to the possible connectivity in the foregoing.
Brian Dixon- Location: Dover
- Registered: 23 Sep 2008
- Posts: 23,940
one more for the collection.
THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER
by: Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)
T is the miller's daughter,
And she is grown so dear, so dear,
That I would be the jewel
That trembles in her ear:
For hid in ringlets day and night,
I'd touch her neck so warm and white.
And I would be the girdle
About her dainty dainty waist,
And her heart would beat against me,
In sorrow and in rest:
And I should know if it beat right,
I'd clasp it round so close and tight.
And I would be the necklace,
And all day long to fall and rise
Upon her balmy bosom,
With her laughter or her sighs:
And I would lie so light, so light,
I scarce should be unclasp'd at night.
Brian Dixon- Location: Dover
- Registered: 23 Sep 2008
- Posts: 23,940
last one for the mo.
Come not, when I am dead,
To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,
To trample round my fallen head,
And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save.
There let the wind sweep and the plover cry;
But thou, go by.
Child, if it were thine error or thy crime
I care no longer, being all unblest:
Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time,
And I desire to rest.
Pass on, weak heart, and leave to where I lie:
Go by, go by.
Brian Dixon- Location: Dover
- Registered: 23 Sep 2008
- Posts: 23,940
and todays final word.
If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream -- and not make dreams your master;
If you can think -- and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings -- nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run --
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Man, my son!
Guest 672- Registered: 3 Jun 2008
- Posts: 2,119
Not by me but by a child. ( not mine )
A little moth, flitting in the garden light.
It went and touched the element.
And now its a pile of s***e.
Sorry...... but true.
grass grows by the inches but dies by the feet.
Brian Dixon- Location: Dover
- Registered: 23 Sep 2008
- Posts: 23,940
one for the pot.
"How to Die"
Dark clouds are smouldering into red
While down the craters morning burns.
The dying soldier shifts his head
To watch the glory that returns;
He lifts his fingers toward the skies
Where holy brightness breaks in flame;
Radiance reflected in his eyes,
And on his lips a whispered name.
You'd think, to hear some people talk,
That lads go West with sobs and curses,
And sullen faces white as chalk,
Hankering for wreaths and tombs and hearses.
But they've been taught the way to do it
Like Christian soldiers; not with haste
And shuddering groans; but passing through it
With due regard for decent taste.