Poetry Corner

[MidNightBlue]

What's an anime forum without a poetry corner?

Share your favorite poems! It could be one that you've written or one written by a famous person or written by some random person. In any case, share and discuss =)

Or bring to the table a poem that baffles you or a poem you've always hated, maybe we can help demystify it.

This is one of my favorites by Emily Dickinson:

I died for Beauty — but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining room —

He questioned softly "Why I failed"?
"For Beauty", I replied —
"And I — for Truth — Themself are One —
We Brethren, are", He said —

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night —
We talked between the Rooms —
Until the Moss had reached our lips —
And covered up — our names —

~ Emily Dickinson

[LostInWonderland]

Favorite poem: The Hollow Men by T.S. Eilot

I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us — if at all — not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer –

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow

Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

[MidNightBlue]

That poem reminded me of this quote:

You can see it in so many faces, this gaping hole in their minds. You can ask them, "WHAT DO YOU HAVE A PASSION FOR? WHAT MOVES YOU?" They just blink, and continue about their business.

~ Jhonen Vasquez


Baa, baa, we are all sheep

[GrinfilledCelt]

I suppose lyrics count:

Nothing Seems To Matter by Bonnie Raitt

Seems like such a long time since I held you my arms,
And felt you close and warm beside me,
Another night is getting late and I'm alone with just the ache
And the memory of you beside me.

Darling, I've never been so blue,
I've tried to see it through,
There's nothing I can do.
I won't make it on my own,
So won't you please hurry home,
'cause nothing seems to matter without you.

Last time I saw you,
There was nothing we could say,
We knew it was a time for a change,
A time to think you said that night,
And I lied and said all right,
I left you in the morning,
I watched you in the window,
And Mexico will never be the same.

It was time to be apart,
But somehow it seems this heart of mine,
Will never find a way to live without you.
And now I'm out here on the road
And I'm feeling bought and sold,
And tonight I just can't but think about you.

Darling, I've never been so blue,
I've tried to see it through,
There's nothing I can do,
I won't make it on my own
So darling won't you hurry home,
Because nothing seems to matter without you.
No, nothing seems to matter without you.
_________________


Songs for the flash frozen.

[LostInWonderland]

[GrinfilledCelt]

Maybe something lighter will stir some response:

Mary Ann - Friends of Fiddlers Green


Well, I never thought much about females
Till a couple of months ago.
When I thought I saw one of them looking at me.
My mother told me so.

That damsel's name was Mary Ann
And she looked at me one day.
I told mother and mother told me
In a motherly kind of way, that...

[Chorus]
| Mary Ann, she's after me.
| Full of love she seems to be.
| My mother says and it's plain to see
| that she wants me for her young man.
|
| Father says if that be true,
| John, my lad, be thankful do,
| that there's one bigger fool in the world than you
| and that's Mary Ann.

Well, I oft times sees her looking at me
and I don't know what to do.
and I can't help looking at her looking at me.
My mother told me so.

Last Sunday morning coming from church
she says, "I'll walk your way."
Well, we both kept walking, I never says naught.
I'd a narrow escape that day. 'Cause...

[Chorus]

Now, there's many a fine young fellow like me
as might be pleased to know
what dangerous animals some girls is.
My mother told me so.

We walks around like innocent lambs
and we does no harm, I'm sure.
When along comes something in frocks and in curls
and there ain't no peace no more. 'Cause...

[Chorus]
_________________


Songs for the flash frozen.

[Hungry Mongoose]

This thread makes me feel unclassy, because I can't recall any of the beautiful ones I've read. So instead I'm left with this.

Monty Python - HORACE POEM

Much to his Mum and Dad's dismay,
Horace ate himself one day.
He didn't stop to say his grace,
He just sat down and ate his face.
"We can't have this!" His Dad declared,
"If that lad's ate, he should be shared."
But even as they spoke they saw,
Horace eating more and more:
First his legs and then his thighs,
His arms, his nose, his hair, his eyes...
"Stop him someone!" Mother cried,
"Those eyeballs would be better fried!"
But all to late, for they were gone,
And he had started on his dong...
"Oh! foolish child!" the father mourns,
"You could have deep fried that with prawns,
Some parsely and some tarter sauce..."
But H. was on his second course:
His liver and his lights and lung,
His ears, his neck, his chin, his tongue;
"To think I raised him from the cot,
And now he's going to scoff the lot!"
His Mother cried: "What shall we do?
What's left won't even make a stew..."
And as she wept her son was seen,
To eat his head, his heart, his spleen.
And there he lay, a boy no more,
Just a stomach, on the floor...
None the less, since it was his,
They ate it - that's what haggis is. *


* No it isn't. Ed. Haggis is a kind of stuffed black pudding eaten
by the Scots and considered by them to be not only a delicacy but
fit for human consumption. The minced heart, liver, and lungs of
a sheep, calf or other animal's inner organs are mixed with
oatmeal, sealed and boiled in maw in the sheep's intestinal
stomache-bag and... Excuse me a minute. Ed.
_________________
PARTY TIME.

[MidNightBlue]

Poetry is awesome because it has enough leeway to reflect a variety of personalities, so not all poems have to be classy. =)

People are interesting because we all view and approach things differently, least of all poetry.

[Sorra]

Emily Dickinson scares me T_T

uuwww uww The Lady of Shalott!! (goes to get it)

[MidNightBlue]

Yeah, the first time I read that poem it creeped me out, but once I understood what it meant I liked it a lot. I love Emily Dickinson's stuff =)
I also really like Walt Whitman.



Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me?

And why should I not speak to you?

~ Walt Whitman

[Sorra]

lol I once had this conversation in school

Teacher: And what do you do if you get an Emily Dickinson poem on the AP test?

Student next to me:.......... CRY.......................

[MidNightBlue]

lol

I loved those English tests, I had a blast taking the AP test. It was fun.

Even though they try to make it so you don't recognize some of the passages, I could tell who was who because they all have such distinct writing styles.

Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

- William Shakespeare

[Sorra]

I hated those damn things... especially the freaken flamingo essay question @_@

[MidNightBlue]

Flamingo essay question?

I thought you were going to post The Lady of Shalott.



The Flamingo

Flamingos dress in fetching pink
But can be rather glum,

Their legs being made of plastic tubes
And bits of chewing gum.

Richard Medrington
from An Absird Book of Burds (Puppet State Press, 2003)
illustration by John Fardell



Flamingo Harlot
by Sunny

She stands alone
foot on the ground
other against the brick

Pink silk flows
song in the wind
long neck exposes
timeless beauty

Bird of grace
freak of nature
mystery lady
intrigues one to gaze

Harlot once was she
unfolded at the wings
plastic yard ornament
she had become

Intoxicated formation
stuck upon the lawn
for onlookers to shout
"Harlot" you're nothing

More than a fixture
timeless knowledge
battles she has fought
today she shall balance
pride of who she is
love for what life has
allowed her to be

[Sorra]

yeah something about flamingos as american icons ....... I want o burn whoever thought of that one...


The Lady of Shalott.

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
Down to tower'd Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers " 'Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott."

PART II

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

And moving thro' a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot:
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village-churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls,
Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,
Goes by to tower'd Camelot;
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot:
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed:
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott.

PART III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley-sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armour rung,
Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flash'd into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces thro' the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.

PART IV

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks
complaining
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
'The Lady of Shalott'.

And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance--
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right--
The leaves upon her falling light--
Thro' the noises of the night
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darken'd wholly,
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they cross'd themselves for fear,
All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."