Poems - Tribute to the greatest.

[Jun]

I have been a big fan of poems for the longest time and John Keats was one of my fav poet. He was British Romantic poet, was very talented, unfortunately he died at a very young age. Tonight I'm feeling IT "romantic mood". Here goes one of his greatest poem. Hope you enjoy the finest poems as much as I do. I will be posting more (only if I get an audience LOL!).


Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art–
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors–
No–yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever–or else swoon to death.

~~~John Keats~~~

Poetry allows ONE to express his/her feelings in an amazing way.

 

[nobody123]

Haikus about ADD
take wing like a bird
Look! A bird!...ummm... errr...

 

[shack]

There once was a man from Nantucket
Whose dick was so long he could suck it.
And he said with a grin
As he wiped off his chin,
"If my ear were a cunt, I would fuck it."

Not sure if it's British but that sure was romantic.

He was British Romantic poet

 

[Jun]

There once was a man from Nantucket
Whose dick was so long he could suck it.
And he said with a grin
As he wiped off his chin,
"If my ear were a cunt, I would fuck it."

there is one of the reason I don't post much here, because of stupid replies.

Not sure if it's British but that sure was romantic.

Nope not british at all lol...

 

[buttercup]

Jun - don't pay any attention to wankers like WhOiSyOuRdAdDy? I've come across dormice with more culture.

If we're talking fav poets, I would have to say Thomas Gray. The "Elegy in a Country Churchyard" is unsurpassed.

Some excerpts:

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the village sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile,
The short and simple annals of the poor.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
Along the cool sequestered vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way

On some fond breast the partying soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.

etc etc.

Also, Gray's Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat.

From hence, ye beauties, undeceived,
Know, one false step is ne'er retrieved,
And be with caution bold.
Not all that charms your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts, is lawful prize;
Nor all that glisters, gold.

 

[Don Draper]

Anyone who's read any of my posts (particularly my Asian Girls thread) will know that I'm a great admirer of poetry, literature and wit. So to Jun: Thank You.

There are a select few on this board who appreciate it. They are great to exchange thought and conversation with.

The rest of them...I just don't know. Then I read their posts about how badly they have it when it comes to meeting women.

Go figure!

 

[nobody123]

Ode To A Small Lump Of Green Putty I Found In My Armpit One Midsummer Morning

Putty. Putty. Putty.
Green Putty - Grutty Peen.
Grarmpitutty - Morning!
Pridsummer - Grorning Utty!
Discovery..... Oh.
Putty?..... Armpit?
Armpit..... Putty.
Not even a particularly
Nice shade of green.
As I lick my armpit and shall agree,
That this putty is very well green.

by Grunthos the Flatulent.

 

[Jun]

Anyone who's read any of my posts (particularly my Asian Girls thread) will know that I'm a great admirer of poetry, literature and wit. So to Jun: Thank You.

There are a select few on this board who appreciate it. They are great to exchange thought and conversation with.

The rest of them...I just don't know. Then I read their posts about how badly they have it when it comes to meeting women.

Go figure!

Very much appreciated Don, I'm glad there are few more people that appreciates poetry as much as I do on this forum and YES go figure for the rest!

 

[Jun]

As cliché as this may sound, I'm a romantic at heart. Poetry allows me to express myself.

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 the 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.

~~~Elizabeth Barrett Browning~~~

 

[nobody123]

Well at least this and my last one were British, dammit!


A Tragedy

Death!
Plop.
The barges down in the river flop.
Flop, plop,
Above, beneath.
From the slimy branches the grey drips drop...
To the oozy waters, that lounge and flop...
And my head shrieks - "Stop"
And my heart shrieks - "Die."...
Ugh! yet I knew - I knew
If a woman is false can a friend by true?
It was only a lie from beginning to end--
My Devil - My "friend."...
So what do I care,
And my head is empty as air -
I can do,
I can dare
(Plop, plop
The barges flop
Drip, drop.)
I can dare, I can dare!
And let myself all run away with my head
And stop.
Drop
Dead.
Plop, flop,
Plop.

by Theophile Marzials

 

[nobody123]

Or perhaps a Canadian poetaster is more to your, errr, poetry tastes?

Spring Music

Spring is in full bloom
as birds weave through the sky,
flowers are waiting to pop up
I see flies out of the corner of my eye.

The frost is still in the ground
listening to tunes, the bird sings,
I think Winter has finally gone
to me, that means everything.

Children fill the air with laughter
they're treasures to behold,
I'll forever hold Spring in my heart
from now, until I get old.

by Cynthia Jones

 

[nobody123]

Ok, OK, last one. I promise. But I can't resist. Never has a poem about a stimulant been so soporific!

STARBUCK POEM


Around 1615 coffee came to Western Europe
Raising a huge controversy and warning cry.
Some said it was intoxicating and poisonous
And any whom consume it will die.

No one knows how coffee was discovered
Though it is said its effects were known before A.D.575.
Persian armies carried and ate its seeds for strength
Which in battle could decide who would perish or survive.

Arabs where the first to brew its bitter seeds into a drink
In a attempt to make it taste better and easier to consume.
Soon the new beverage spread to Turkey and Europe
As the world became addicted to the harvest of it’s bloom.

Thank God for caffeine found in coffee
Which helps multitudes make it through the day.
Like ancestors of the past it helps energy to last
And for its stimulant we are eager to pay.

by Tom Zart
self-proclaimed "Most published poet on the Web" and "God's poet"

Wish I were kidding - http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/starbuck-coffee-love-poem-2013/

 

[Boss Nass]

A poem which all tin-pot dictators should take to heart:

Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away".

- Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

[jazzpig]

You came to me like spring,
gently at first,
almost imperceptibly,
then in a warm rush
melting the crystals
at the centres of my waters,
cascading through my arteries and veins,
singing along my nerves and nadis,
curling a liquid longing up my spine,
awakening me to senses and to seasons.
Now I am resurrected.
I dress myself in the fluid kiss of silk
and bare myself to the winds
licking my limbs.
I am open to summer's sensual embrace
and the lingering encirclement of autumn.
Each thrust of beauty penetrates
where ice once armoured me
against nature's insistence.
I yield now to the heat
of my own essence.

The forever winter
which I thought was upon me
will not come
as long as your fingertips
love my skin,
as long as your memory
floods my flesh,
as long as I do not forget
your promise of always.

- Linda Stitt

 

[Jun]

Love Love Love, this feeling made me be a hopeless romantic. I hope I'm not the only one that enjoys this kind of writing.

I wish I could tell YOU how much I love YOU,
I love YOU, I love YOU very much,
And when I close my eyes I see YOU,
When I open my eyes I just want to see YOU,
When YOU are not around, I always feel your presence,
Every minute, every second, my eyes looks for YOU,
YOU are my only one,
YOU can call it Love, infatuation or my heartbeat,
For me they are all the same,
A lot of people fall in love,
But nobody is in love like I am,
Simply because I'm in love with YOU,
I will never forget YOU,
I don't want to ever forget YOU,
I want YOU to be my my side every minute/seconds of my life,
I will love YOU all my life until death,
I will love YOU after that too.


On a side note, if I send this to her, y'all think she will say yes? LOL

 

[Don Draper]

If I Could Tell You

One to think about as you age every year:

[SIZE=+2]"Time will say nothing but I told you so,
Time only knows the price we have to pay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.

If we should weep when clowns put on their show,
If we should stumble when musicians play,
Time will say nothing but I told you so.

There are no fortunes to be told, although,
Because I love you more than I can say,
If I could tell you I would let you know.

The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,
There must be reasons why the leaves decay;
Time will say nothing but I told you so.

Perhaps the roses really want to grow,
The vision seriously intends to stay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.

Suppose the lions all get up and go,
And all the brooks and soldiers run away;
Will Time say nothing but I told you so?
If I could tell you I would let you know."[/SIZE]

~ W. H. Auden (1907 - 73) ​

 

[Jun]

To my special ONE!

Dedicated to someone special somewhere in this world.​

Life changes its beauty all the time
Sometimes it’s a shade, sometimes life is sunlight,
Live every moment here to your heart’s content,
The time that is here may not be tomorrow,
One who loves you whole-heartedly,
If there is someone like that somewhere,
That person is more beautiful than all,
Grab onto that special person’s hand,
He or she may not be so gracious tomorrow,
Live every moment here to your heart’s content,
The time that is here may not be tomorrow,
Taking the shadow of your eyelashes, when someone comes near,
You try to reason with your crazy heart,
Your heart just goes on beating,
But think, that which is here now,
That story may not be here tomorrow,
Life changes its beauty all the time,
Sometimes it’s a shade, sometimes life is sunlight,
Live every moment here to your heart’s content,
The time that is here may not be tomorrow.​

​

 

[Jun]

The Definition Of Love

My love is of a birth as rare
As 'tis for object strange and high:
It was begotten by Despair
Upon Impossibility.

Magnanimous Despair alone
Could show me so divine a thing,
Where feeble Hope could ne'er have flown
But vainly flapped its tinsel wing.

And yet I quickly might arrive
Where my extended soul is fixed
But Fate does iron wedges drive,
And always crowds itself betwixt.

For Fate with jealous eye does see
Two perfect loves, nor lets them close:
Their union would her ruin be,
And her tyrranic power depose.

And therefore her decrees of steel
Us as the distant Poles have placed
(Though Love's whole world on us doth wheel)
Not by themselves to be embraced,

Unless the giddy heaven fall,
And earth some new convulsion tear;
And, us to join, the world should all
Be cramped into a planisphere.

As lines (so loves) oblique may well
Themselves in every angle greet:
But ours so truly parallel,
Though infinite, can never meet.

Therefore the love which us doth bind,
But Fate so enviously debars,
Is the conjunction of the mind,
And opposition of the stars.

by Andrew Marvell(1621-1678) ​

 

[Yoga Face]

you should not discuss poetry on TERB without discussing Lord Byron


He was a complete and total sex maniac (swung both ways )

he was a rock star of the day and women would send him sex letters

I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression of excited passion, and that there is no such thing as a life of (continuous?) passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?


Lord Byron, in a letter to Thomas Moore, 5 July 1821

 

[Don Draper]

Ars Poetica

A stunning declaration of Poetry about Poetry itself:

[SIZE=+2]"A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit,

Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb,

Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown—

A poem should be wordless
As the flight of birds.

A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs,

Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,

Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,
Memory by memory the mind—

A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs.

A poem should be equal to:
Not true.

For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf.

For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea—

A poem should not mean
But be."[/SIZE]

~ Archibald MacLeish (1892 - 1982)​