Poetry in Motion

Discussion in 'SHH Community Forum' started by Abaddon, Oct 4, 2005.

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  1. thedeadite

    thedeadite Registered

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    don't have one to post at the moment, this is really making me upset that i work fridays now and can't go to detroit for the poetry reading that night anymore...amazing poets in detroit.
     
    #101 thedeadite, May 28, 2006
  2. bored

    bored One Sexy Lemur

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    Let's do some Shakespeare, shall we?

    Sonnet 48

    How careful was I, when I took my way,
    Each trifle under truest bars to thrust
    That to my use it might unused stay
    From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!
    But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
    Most worthy of comfort, now my greatest grief,
    Thou, best of dearest and mine only care,
    Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.
    Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest,
    Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art,
    Within the gentle closure of my breast,
    From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part;
    And even thence thou wilt be stol'n, I fear,
    For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.
     
    #102 bored, May 28, 2006
  3. Bat Brain

    Bat Brain Registered

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    Suicide In The Trenches - Siegfried Sassoon

    I knew a simple soldier boy
    Who grinned at life in empty joy,
    Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
    And whistled early with the lark.

    In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
    With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
    He put a bullet through his brain.
    No one spoke of him again.

    You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
    Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
    Sneak home and pray you'll never know
    The hell where youth and laughter go.
     
    #103 Bat Brain, May 28, 2006
  4. Abaddon

    Abaddon Watching

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    haha, brilliant!
     
    #104 Abaddon, Mar 10, 2007
  5. tzarinna

    tzarinna Mamochka

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    "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..."
    by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

    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 candle-light.
    I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
    I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
    I love thee with a 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.


    Never was able to finish reciting it in class.
     
    #105 tzarinna, Mar 10, 2007
  6. Abaddon

    Abaddon Watching

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    Songs of Innocence-Night
    William Blake

    The sun descending in the west,
    The evening star does shine;
    The birds are silent in their nest,
    And I must seek for mine.
    The moon like a flower,
    In heaven's high bower,
    With silent delight
    Sits and smiles on the night.

    Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
    Where flocks have took delight;
    Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
    The feet of angels bright;
    Unseen they pour blessing,
    And joy without ceasing,
    On each bud and blossom,
    And each sleeping bosom.

    They look in every thoughtless nest,
    Where birds are covered warm;
    They visit caves of every beast,
    To keep them all from harm:
    If they see any weeping
    That should have been sleeping,
    They pour sleep on their head,
    And sit down by their bed.

    When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
    They pitying stand and weep, -
    Seeking to drive their thirst away,
    And keep them from the sheep.
    But if they rush dreadful,
    The angels, most heedful,
    Receive each mild spirit,
    New worlds to inherit.

    And there the lion's ruddy eyes
    Shall flow with tears of gold,
    And pitying the tender cries,
    And walking round the fold,
    Saying, "Wrath, by his meekness,
    And, by his health, sickness
    Is driven away
    Form our immortal day.

    "And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
    I can lie down and sleep;
    Or think on him who bore thy name,
    Graze after thee and weep.
    For, washed in life's river,
    My bright mane for ever
    Shall shine like the gold,
    As I guard o'er the fold."
     
    #106 Abaddon, Jun 8, 2007
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