Print Page - favorite poem?

whats your favorite poem?

mine is this by Pablo Neruda, which he wrote in his first book when he was 19...

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

I can never choose just ONE of anything!

These are a couple of my favourites from when I was a child. I never thought much of poetry until I found gritty ones like these (the flowery language of much poetry is very much lost on me!). I loved these two in particular for their raw truth, they really moved me and stirred deep emotions:

Base Details
by Siegfried Sassoon

If I were fierce, and bald, and short of breath
I'd live with scarlet Majors at the Base,
And speed glum heroes up the line to death.
You'd see me with my puffy petulant face,
Guzzling and gulping in the best hotel,
Reading the Roll of Honour. "Poor young chap,"
I'd say - "I used to know his father well;
Yes, we've lost heavily in this last scrap."
And when the war is done and youth stone dead,
I'd toddle safely home and die - in bed.

Myxomatosis
by Spike Milligan

A baby rabbit.
With eyes full of pus.
Is the work of scientific us.

one more neruda...

LEANING INTO THE AFTERNOONS….
Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets
towards your oceanic eyes.

There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames,
its arms turning like a drowning man's.

I send out red signals across your absent eyes
that wave like the sea or the beach by a lighthouse.

You keep only darkness, my distant female,
from your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges.

Leaning into the afternoons I fling my sad nets
to the sea that is thrashed by your oceanic eyes.

The birds of night peck at the first stars
that flash like my soul when I love you.

The night gallops on its shadowy mare
shedding blue tassles over the land.

Naked Ocean

Rain upon the ocean

Whipping at the waves

Tantalizing bare skin

Washing away the canvas

Revealing my identity

Moonlight upon the ocean

Shimmering veil

I revel in the luminosity

Singing with the wind

Blown away by the stinging air...

My prohibitions
My uncertainties
And cares

Naked in the glorious night

Wind caressing

Wet and salty

I am free

BB
XXX

She can feel the pain
and also the sorrow
She doesnt want to go on
so she prays for a better tomorrow
its hard for her to cope
she would like to run away
in her heart she knows
that she cant stay
you can see the sadness
etched deep within her eyes
she would like to stop the madness
but instead she just cries
she prays for the strength to move ahead
to survive another day
she pleads for the courage
to simply walk away

Adonic Angela by Pablo Neruda

read by Willem Dafoe

Today I stretched out next
to a pure young woman
as if at the shore of a white ocean,
as if at the centre of a burning star
of slow space.

From her lengthily green gaze
the light fell like dry water,
in transparent and deep circles
of fresh force.

Her bosom like a two flamed fire
burned raised in two regions,
and in a double river reached
her large, clear feet.

A climate of gold scarcely ripened
the diurnal length of her body
filling it with extended fruit
sand hidden fire.

to download MP3 Format of this poetry, visit this link;

http://jalaindra.multiply.com/music/item/26/Pablo_Nerudas_Poems_Ost._Il_Postino

My Grandad wrote some 'alternative' poetry...

The elephant is a pretty bird
It flits from bough to bough
It builds its nest in the rhubarb tree
And whistles like a cow

And my favourite...

Shake and shake
The ketchup bottle
None'll come
And then a lot'll.

And in the more sensible line I enjoy William Blake, but I can't find the poem at the moment because I can't remember enough of it to Google.

Love
May

Somewhere in the night
a child cries,
a woman weeps and someone dies
Somewhere in the night humanity hides

Somewhere in the night a soul screams
As people fade and die, lost in dreams
Somewhere in the night reality lives

Somewhere in the night loneliness dwells
As people die, no sounding bells
Somewhere in the night she dies alone
Somewhere in the night.......
Where is the light?

Sorry if it is a bit dark for somepeople but I promise to put a beautiful one up next time.....

Another day is dawning
Wind is humming low
Silver light of morning
casts a gentle glow
Slowly sound of waking
echoes through the trees.
Ripples stir the lake with kisses
from a breeze.
It must have been the same
when the first morning dawned.
When through the mist there came
bright rays from the sun.
What eyes looked up in wonder?
What ears first heard the sound -
sea waves, rolling thunder -
and winds that swept the ground

Now comes another morning
blessing fields of earth.
Throughout the light of dawning,
runs music of rebirth!

Have we no ears to hear it?
Have we no heart to sing -
Sweet songs of the spirit
for newness morning brings

It is a new beginning
and it happens everyday
another chance for winning
and chasing doubt away
Let us have the heart to give!
Let us have songs to sing now
that bless the life we live!!!

Love and Peace to all
Kristina xxx

A poem I wrote for the beautiful earth we live upon

Glorious orb

Mother of all life

Fruitfulness and desolation within thy Breasts

Beautiful flowers arranged in thine incandescent hair

Maiden of light, pure beauty, who grasps eternity for thy children

Immortal, crowned with unassuming grace

Kissed by Gods breath

Thy bounteous heart a refuge to all living

Voluptuous sweeping plains and mighty mountains

Thy pheromone… the scent of fragrant fields and grasses

Within thy womb…nurturing rain

Promised life in season

The sun, moon and stars looketh down upon thee in awe

bathing thee in eternal light

In honour of thy glory

Come…blessed goddess…

Make the fields ripe and

Bestow upon thine handmaidens

Fertility

"Prayer for Gaia"

In the Kindness of Sleep

I visited you last night when you
were sleeping with a child's abandon.
Curled so casual in sheets
inlaid by your beauty.
I held my hand to your face
and touched as gently
as I know how
so you could linger with your dreams.
I heard soft murmurs that only angels make
when they listen to their home.
So I drew my hand away
uneasy that I might wake you
even as gentle as I was.

But you stayed with your dreams
and I watched as they found their way to you
in the kindness of sleep.
And I dreamed that I was an echo of your body
curled beside you like a fortune hunter
who finally found his gold.
I nearly wept at the sound of your breath,
but I stayed quiet as a winter lake, and bit my lip
to ensure I wouldn't be detected.

I didn't want to intrude
so I set my dream aside
and I gently pulled your hand from underneath
the covers to hold.
A hand whose entry into flesh
must have been the lure that brought me here.
And as I hold it
I remember why I came
to feel your pulse
and the beating of your heart in deep slumber.
And I remember why I came in the
kindness of sleep --
to hold your hand, touch your face
and listen to the soft breathing
of an angel,
curled so casual in sheets
inlaid by your beauty.

~ Wingmakers ~

And, of course my abiding love.......

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi ~

Great Spirit

Great Spirit,
give us hearts to understand;
Never to take from creation's beauty more than we give;
Never to destroy wantonly for the furtherance of greed;
Never to deny to give our hands for the building of earth's beauty;
Never to take from her what we cannot use.

Give us hearts to understand
That to destroy earth's music is to create confusion;
That to wreck her appearance is to blind us to beauty;
That to callously pollute her fragrance is to make a house of stench;
That as we care for her she will care for us.

We have forgotten who we are.
We have sought only our own security.
We have exploited simply for our own ends.
We have distorted our knowledge.
We have abused our power.

Great Spirit, whose dry lands thirst,
help us to find the way to refresh your lands.

Great Spirit, whose waters are choked with debris and pollution,
help us to find the way to cleanse your waters.

Great Spirit, whose beautiful earth grows ugly with mis-use,
help us to find the way to restore beauty to your handiwork.

Great Spirit, whose creatures are being destroyed,
help us to find a way to replenish them.

Great Spirit, whose gifts to us are being lost
in selfishness and corruption,
help us to find the way to restore our humanity.

I am not sure if this is classed as a poem or a nursery rhyme, but I have loved it since I was a small child:

Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod

Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod, one night sailed off in a wooden shoe;
Sailed off on a river of crystal light into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going and what do you wish?" the old moon asked the three.
"We've come to fish for the herring fish that live in this beautiful sea.
Nets of silver and gold have we," said Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song as they rocked in the wooden shoe.
And the wind that sped them all night long ruffled the waves of dew.
Now the little stars are the herring fish that live in that beautiful sea;
"Cast your nets wherever you wish never afraid are we!"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three - Winkin', and Blinkin', and Nod.

So all night long their nets they threw to the stars in the twinkling foam.
'Til down from the skies came the wooden shoe bringing the fisherman home.
'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed as if it could not be.
Some folks say 'twas a dream they dreamed of sailing that misty sea.
But I shall name you the fisherman three - Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod.

Now Winkin' and Blinkin' are two little eyes and Nod is a little head.
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies is a wee one's trundle bed.
So close your eyes while mother sings of the wonderful sights that be.
And you shall see those beautiful things as you sail on the misty sea,
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three - Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod.

I just adore it.

:heart:

I also really like this poem. The true original source is debated. I heard the story that it was found scratched onto a prison cell wall after a prisoner was taken for execution but others contribute it to other sources with slightly different wording and title. Either way, it is a very powerful reminder to us all:

The Man in the Mirror

When you get what you want in your struggle for self
And the world makes you king for a day
Then go to the mirror and look at yourself
And see what that man has to say.

For it isn't a man’s father, mother or wife
Whose judgment upon him must pass
The fellow whose verdict counts most in his life
Is the man staring back from the glass.

He's the fellow to please, never mind all the rest
For he's with you clear up to the end
And you've passed your most dangerous, difficult test
If the man in the glass is your friend.

You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you've cheated the man in the glass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Can be applied to men and women, pretty powerful and very true.

I don't know about THE favourite, but this came up to me, it is a part of a song engraved in my mind:

A po nocy, przychodzi dzien.
A po burzy, spokoj.
Nagle ptaki budza mnie,
tlukac sie do okien.

Translation (from Polish):

After a night, a day comes.
After a storm, peace.
Suddenly the birds wake me up,
knocking to the windows.

Hey, you can even listen to this song here (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W64knnDHE_w), classic old Polish rock ha ha!

Why do I like it? Because it is about a TRANSFORMATION.

Gosia

In a Dark Time

In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood--
A lord of nature weeping to a tree,
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.

What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall,
That place among the rocks--is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.

A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is--
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.

Dark,dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.

~ Theodore Roethke ~

Here is another by Theodore Roethke who I am totally captivated by lately. Thankfully his poetry speaks for itself, as I am rendered speechless with regard to the beauty that I find within his words.

The Waking

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

Raw Food Forums

PleasureTalk - The Discussion Area => Personal Growth And Manifestation => Topic started by: Jedi on Tuesday 16 October, 2007