A Bit Of Poetry

Discussion in 'Reading & Writing' started by Bill Boggs, Oct 27, 2017.

  1. Bill Boggs

    Bill Boggs Veteran Member
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    Do you have a favorite poem prone that you like, because it speaks to you now and then or reminds you of something or somebody. Long, long before I knew who Jenny Joseph was, I ran across her poem somewhere. I remember laughing out loud and trying to remember it so I could tell my wife a poem I had discovered. I didn’t remember but I did remember enough of it that she recognized it and was quite familiar with it but then she was always two steps ahead of me. I have liked this poem for many years. I recently read it was voted England’s favorite poem. If you’re not favorite with one of my favorites, take a listen to this.


    Warning
    By Jenny Joseph


    When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
    With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
    And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
    And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
    I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
    And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
    And run my stick along the public railings
    And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
    I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
    And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens
    And learn to spit.

    You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
    And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
    Or only bread and pickle for a week
    And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

    But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
    And pay our rent and not swear in the street
    And set a good example for the children.
    We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

    But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
    So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
    When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.


    Do you have a favorite poem you'd like to share?
     
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  2. Bill Boggs

    Bill Boggs Veteran Member
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    How about this?

    The Purpose of Poetry
    Jared Carter



    This old man grazed thirty head of cattle
    in a valley just north of the covered bridge
    on the Mississinewa, where the reservoir
    stands today. Had a black border collie
    and a half-breed sheep dog with one eye.
    The dogs took the cows to pasture each morning
    and brought them home again at night
    and herded them into the barn. The old man
    would slip a wooden bar across both doors.


    One dog slept on the front porch, one on the back.

    He was waiting there one evening
    listening to the animals coming home
    when a man from the courthouse stopped
    to tell him how the new reservoir
    was going to flood all his property.
    They both knew he was too far up in years
    to farm anywhere else. He had a daughter
    who lived in Florida, in a trailer park.
    He should sell now and go stay with her.

    The man helped bar the doors before he left.


    He had only known dirt under his fingernails
    and trips to town on Saturday mornings
    since he was a boy. Always he had been around
    cattle, and trees, and land near the river.
    Evenings by the barn he could hear the dogs
    talking to each other as they brought in
    the herd; and the cows answering them.
    It was the clearest thing he knew. That night
    He shot both dogs and then himself.


    The purpose of poetry is to tell us about life.
     
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  3. Shirley Martin

    Shirley Martin Veteran Member
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    Awwwww, @Bill Boggs , that one makes my heart ache. Did it yours?
     
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  4. Bill Boggs

    Bill Boggs Veteran Member
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    I've loved this poem from the moment I first read it. Framed it. It made me want to write. To tell of life. Foolish huh?
     
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  5. Shirley Martin

    Shirley Martin Veteran Member
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    No, not foolish. Some of our greatest literature has come from the deepest tragedies.
     
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  6. Babs Hunt

    Babs Hunt Veteran Member
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    On Pain - Poem by Khalil Gibran

    Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses
    your understanding.

    Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its
    heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

    And could you keep your heart in wonder at the
    daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem
    less wondrous than your joy;

    And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
    even as you have always accepted the seasons that
    pass over your fields.

    And you would watch with serenity through the
    winters of your grief.

    Much of your pain is self-chosen.

    It is the bitter potion by which the physician within
    you heals your sick self.

    Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy
    in silence and tranquillity:

    For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by
    the tender hand of the Unseen,

    And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has
    been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has
    moistened with His own sacred tears.

    Khalil Gibran
     
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  7. Babs Hunt

    Babs Hunt Veteran Member
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    Your Children

    Your children are not your children.
    They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
    They come through you but not from you.
    And though they are with you, they belong not to you.
    You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
    For they have their own thoughts.
    You may house their bodies but not their souls,
    For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
    Which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
    You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
    For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
    You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
    The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite.
    And He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
    Let your bending in the archer's hands be for happiness;
    For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
    So He loves the bow that is stable.

    Khalil Gibran
     
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  8. Bill Boggs

    Bill Boggs Veteran Member
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    Nice one Bbs. I like them both, but especially this one. Thanks for posting.
     
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  9. Babs Hunt

    Babs Hunt Veteran Member
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    Marriage

    Then Almitra spoke again and said, 'And what of Marriage, master?'

    And he answered saying:

    You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.

    You shall be together when white wings of death scatter your days.

    Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.

    But let there be spaces in your togetherness,

    And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

    Love one another but make not a bond of love:

    Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

    Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.

    Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.

    Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,

    Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

    Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.

    For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

    And stand together, yet not too near together:

    For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

    And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

    Khalil Gibran
     
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  10. Bill Boggs

    Bill Boggs Veteran Member
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    Oh, my, @ Babs Hunt I have long ago forgotten Khalil Gibron. I remember way back The Prophet took up residence in our home after my wife gave a copy to our son. I remember reading parts of it from timed to time and may have been a little jealouse a man such as he could speak of what I wished to say but had not yet thought.
     
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  11. Babs Hunt

    Babs Hunt Veteran Member
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    He is my favorite Poet....his poems are pure Wisdom to me. And yes, I wish I could express my thoughts as he did too @Bill Boggs.
     
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  12. Babs Hunt

    Babs Hunt Veteran Member
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    On Death
    Kahlil Gibran

    You would know the secret of death.
    But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
    The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
    If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
    For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.


    In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
    And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
    Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
    Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
    Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
    Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?


    For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
    And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?


    Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
    And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
    And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
     
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  13. Babs Hunt

    Babs Hunt Veteran Member
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    Kahlil Gibran on Love

    When love beckons to you, follow him,
    Though his ways are hard and steep.
    And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
    Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
    And when he speaks to you believe in him,
    Though his voice may shatter your dreams
    as the north wind lays waste the garden.

    For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
    Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
    So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

    Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
    He threshes you to make you naked.
    He sifts you to free you from your husks.
    He grinds you to whiteness.
    He kneads you until you are pliant;
    And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

    All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.

    But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
    Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
    Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
    Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
    Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
    For love is sufficient unto love.

    When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God."
    And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

    Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
    But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
    To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
    To know the pain of too much tenderness.
    To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
    And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
    To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
    To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
    To return home at eventide with gratitude;
    And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
     
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  14. Bill Boggs

    Bill Boggs Veteran Member
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    Have you tried your hand at poetry?
     
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  15. Shirley Martin

    Shirley Martin Veteran Member
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    My poem:

    It snowed last night. Oh, yes. Yes, indeedy it did!
    When I woke up, my bushes were hid.
    Now to folks 'round here, snow's a rare thing.
    I don't reckon we've had any since way last spring.
    But now we can build a snowman and have a snowball fight.
    Because, bless my soul, it snowed last night!
     
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  16. Bill Boggs

    Bill Boggs Veteran Member
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    Hey, @Shirley Martin that's pretty good. It grows on you.
    The more you read it, the better it gets. A Poet, indeed.
     
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  17. Shirley Martin

    Shirley Martin Veteran Member
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    Thanks. I'se a poet and don't know it. :D
     
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  18. Bill Boggs

    Bill Boggs Veteran Member
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    There you go.
     
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  19. Bill Boggs

    Bill Boggs Veteran Member
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    This is not poetry, not even good prose, but today it's how it goes:

    Hello boys and girls and members of the congregation herein present, greetings. The weather here is going to turn cold according to the best sources available and in turn I decided to act like a bear. That is to say, I went to the grocery store and stocked up on essentials and goodies, enough so I need not worry for the next ten days or so. In my present old age and condition, I can’t do much but I do like to eat well; well, according to my own inclinations and preferences.

    Since we, my roommate and I, don’t do much baking any longer, and our sweet tooth calls out for some soothing, we buy ours out. I have started buying cinnamon bread instead of making cinnamon toast occasionally. It’s not as good but with hands that are not always steady, and eyes that don’t always see well, it is not as messy or as much trouble.

    Having stocked up on groceries due to cold weather about to arrive, we will do as do the bears and hibernate. I do need some good reading material to go with my good coffee and the stew that is simmering on the stove; but we are ready. The only sour note I’ve discovered all day long is, somebody stole my handicap placard from my car. I can’t believe somebody would do such a thing. Yet, being able to stay inside and not having to get out and go to work is one of the joys of retirement. Let it rain let it snow, I don't care, oh no, no, no.
     
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  20. Ken Anderson

    Ken Anderson Greeter
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    I still have two Khalil Gibran books that were given to me by a teacher more than fifty years ago.
     
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  21. Babs Hunt

    Babs Hunt Veteran Member
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    Only when I was a teenager and in love for the first time. I think I still have some of those poems packed away some where. :)
     
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  22. Babs Hunt

    Babs Hunt Veteran Member
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    My ex has our I think complete set of his works. I have been thinking about going to "borrow them" so I can read them all again. :)
     
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  23. Babs Hunt

    Babs Hunt Veteran Member
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    Risk - Poem by Anaïs Nin

    And then the day came,
    when the risk
    to remain tight
    in a bud
    was more painful
    than the risk
    it took
    to Blossom.

    Anaïs Nin
     
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  24. Bill Boggs

    Bill Boggs Veteran Member
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    I tried my hand at poetry back between 2003 and 2009 on a forum in England. It was a writing forum, all phases of writing. I wrote maybe two dozen poems. One was picked for poem of the month. I don't remember enough of how it goes to rewrite but I think the title was "Vines Outside My Window! Or something like that. What I did learn was that writing poetry, for me, was a mood thing. At least my muse needed be present and in the mood to assist. What that means is, I'm lousy at writing poetry. But I do enjoy a good poem.
     
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  25. Babs Hunt

    Babs Hunt Veteran Member
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    I'm a poet
    And I know it
    But I just don't want to show it. :)

    Those of us who "bare" our hearts may end up getting them stomped on. When it happens enough times we just don't want to bare our hearts anymore.

    Someone very close to me used to pour her heart out in her diaries. One day someone found those diaries and read them...and used some info in them to shatter that person's life as she knew it. That person could have become a great author...yet after that day of destruction she never opened her heart and let the words flow again.

    At that time I kept diaries too baring my soul in them. After I saw what happened to one close to me, I burned my own diaries and found I just lost the desire to bare my soul in writing anymore. And like with anything else in life...if you don't use it you will lose it...my own writing skills are no longer what they used to be either.

    But I can always find a book, a poem, or a song's lyrics that speak my souls thoughts and feelings.
     
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