Poets of the day (Page 2) Comrade_: *writes down the little russian lady's request* haaha I will..but don't call me babushka in public ! Comrade_: ~~Saturday 5th Feb 2011~~(Germany) Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Born 28th August 1749 and died 22 March 1832. Goethe is considered the supreme genius of modern German literature. Gefunden by JW von Goethe.......Found (Translated by Hyde Flippo) Ich ging im Walde...............I was walking in the woods So für mich hin,................Just on a whim of mine, Und nichts zu suchen,...........And seeking nothing, Das war mein Sinn...............That was my intention. Im Schatten sah ich.............In the shade I saw Ein Blümchen stehn,.............A little flower standing Wie Sterne leuchtend............Like stars glittering Wie Äuglein schön...............Like beautiful little eyes. Ich wollt es brechen,...........I wanted to pick it Da sagt' es fein:...............When it said delicately: Soll ich zum Welken,............Should I just to wilt Gebrochen sein?.................Be picked? Ich grubs mit allen.............I dug it out with all Den Würzeln aus,................Its little roots. Zum Garten trug ichs............To the garden I carried it Am hübschen Haus................By the lovely house. Und pflanzt es wieder...........And replanted it Am stillen Ort;.................In this quiet spot; Nun zweigt es immer.............Now it keeps branching out Und blüht so fort...............And blossoms ever forth. dirty69: woman are all heartless I know its not your fault, blame biology us men took advantage of the weaker sex for years, the chinese even killed their daughters if they had one, but emotionally they ARE stronger then men, but not me, try dealing with haveing everyything you took for granted taken from youbut its all good for 6 years I have struggled trying to get back what I lost I even had my soulmate die on me, she was beside my hospital bed cause she worked at the hospital in the coffee shop, althou I was unableto drink coffere at the timeshe got realesed from this hell we call earth we will be together on the othersidelike the Lord of the Rings she is and alweays will be my precious Comrade_: I forgot this thread. I was searching for an Arabian poet this time, I saw Nimah Nawwab (1966 - present) from Saudi Arabia. She reminds me of a Saudi Arabian girl I know on wire, same poetic talents too..Since it is Eid, I'll dedicate this to her in secret... \\ -The Longing- Freedom. How her spirit Haunts, Hooks, Entices us all! Freedom, Will the time come For my ideas to roam Across this vast land’s deserts, Through the caverns of the Empty Quarter? For my voice to be sent forth, Crying out in the stillness of a quiet people, A voice among the voiceless? For my thoughts, that hurl around In a never-ending spiral, To settle Mature, grow and flourish In a barren wasteland of shackled minds? Will my spirit be set free— To soar above the undulating palm fronds? Will my essence and heart be unfettered, Forever Freed, Of man-made Thou Shall Nots? /// (Edited by Comrade_) memberX: This love by Jacques Prevert This love So violent So fragile So tender So hopeless This love As beautiful as the day And as wretched as the weather When the weather is wretched This love So real This love So beautiful So happy So joyous And so ridiculous Trembling with fear Like a child in the dark And so sure of itself Like a tranquil man in the quiet of the night This love Which made others afraid Which made them gossip Which drained the colour from their cheeks This love Watched for Because we watched for them Snared, wounded, trampled, finished, denied, forgotten Because we snared, wounded, trampled, finished, denied, forgot it This love Entire Still so alive Shining This is yours This is mine This love Which is always new And which never changes Real like a plant Quivering like a bird Warm and as alive as the summer We can both Go and come back We can forget And fall asleep And wake up To suffer old age Fall asleep again To dream to death Awake To smile and laugh Young again Our love endures Obstinate as a mule As alive as the desire As cruel as the memory As stupid as the regret As tender as the memory As cold as marble As beautiful as the day As delicate as an infant It watches us Smiling And speaks to us Without saying a word And I I listen to it Trembling And I cry I cry for you I cry for myself And I beg you For yourself For me And for all those who love And who are loved Yes I cry to it For you For me And for all the others I do not know Stay there There where you are There where you were before Stay there Don't move Don't go away We who are loved We have forgotten you Do not forget us We had only you on this earth Do not let us grow cold Further and further away every day It doesn't matter where Give us a sign of life In a nook in the woods In the forest of memory Suddenly arise Take us by the hand And save us. memberX: Oh what a night I can not sleep by Sergey Yesenin Oh, what a night! I cannot sleep. The sky is moonlit. Well, I never! It seems that I in my heart I keep The youth that has been gone for ever. My friend of frosted bygone years, Don"t call a game love and affection, I"d rather have the moonlight rays Flow down upon my habitation. And looking down from above Let it depict my features here, - You cannot fall out of love Just like you couldn"t love me, dear. We only love just once, you know, So you are alien to me, strangely, Just like a lime tree, foot in snow, Is trying to attract us, vainly. I know it well, you know it, too,- What we can see at this late hour Is frost and snow appearing blue And not the splendor of a flower. We"we had our love, our time and day Each having someone to admire, And now we"re fated anyway To play affection, love, desire. Come now, caress me, hold me tight, Kiss me with hot, pretended flavor, And may I dream about the light Of spring and love that lasts forever. S lady: THE ROAD NOT TAKEN (Robert Frost)... Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the tother, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy ans wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by And that has made all the difference. memberX: Ditty Of First Desire by Federico Garcia Lorca In the green morning I wanted to be a heart. A heart. And in the ripe evening I wanted to be a nightingale. A nightingale. (Soul, Turn orangecolored. Soul, Turn the color of love). In the vivid morning I wanted to be myself. A heart. And at the evening's end I wanted to be my voice. A nightingale. Soul, Turn orangecolored. Soul, Turn the color of love. memberX: How many demands by Anna Akhmatova How many demands the beloved can make! The woman discarded, none. How glad I am that today the water Under the colorless ice is motionless. And I stand -- Christ help me! -- On this shroud that is brittle and bright, But save my letters So that our descendants can decide, So that you, courageous and wise, Will be seen by them with greater clarity. Perhaps we may leave some gaps In your glorious biography? Too sweet is earthly drink, Too tight the nets of love. Sometime let the children read My name in their lesson book, And on learning the sad story, Let them smile shyly. . . Since you've given me neither love nor peace Grant me bitter glory. Comrade_: ~~ Monday 06 September 2011~~ William Blake **A Poison Tree** I was angry with my friend; I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I waterd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears: And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright. And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine. And into my garden stole. When the night had veiled the pole; In the morning glad I see, My foe outstretchd beneath the tree. (Edited by Comrade_) memberX: River of stars by Yosano Akiko Left on the beach Full of water A worn out boat Reflects the white sky -- Of early autumn. Swifter than hail Lighter than a feather, A vague sorrow Crossed my mind. Feeling you nearby, how could I not come to walk beneath this evening moon rising over flowering fields. It was only the thin thread of a cloud, almost transparent, leading me along the way like an ancient sacred song. I say his poem, propped against this frozen wall, in the late evening, as bitter autumn rain continues to fall. memberX: A Thing Of Beauty by John Keats A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth, Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon For simple sheep; and such are daffodils With the green world they live in; and clear rills That for themselves a cooling covert make 'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake, Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms: And such too is the grandeur of the dooms We have imagined for the mighty dead; All lovely tales that we have heard or read: An endless fountain of immortal drink, Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink. Nor do we merely feel these essences For one short hour; no, even as the trees That whisper round a temple become soon Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon, The passion poesy, glories infinite, Haunt us till they become a cheering light Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast That, whether there be shine or gloom o'ercast, They always must be with us, or we die. Therefore, 'tis with full happiness that I Will trace the story of Endymion. The very music of the name has gone Into my being, and each pleasant scene Is growing fresh before me as the green Of our own valleys: so I will begin Now while I cannot hear the city's din; Now while the early budders are just new, And run in mazes of the youngest hue About old forests; while the willow trails Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year Grows lush in juicy stalks, I'll smoothly steer My little boat, for many quiet hours, With streams that deepen freshly into bowers. Many and many a verse I hope to write, Before the daisies, vermeil rimmed and white, Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas, I must be near the middle of my story. O may no wintry season, bare and hoary, See it half finished: but let Autumn bold, With universal tinge of sober gold, Be all about me when I make an end! And now at once, adventuresome, I send My herald thought into a wilderness: There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress My uncertain path with green, that I may speed Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed. Aryaa: most beautiful poem ....memX Nor do we merely feel these essences For one short hour; no, even as the trees That whisper round a temple become soon Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon, The passion poesy, glories infinite, Haunt us till they become a cheering light Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast That, whether there be shine or gloom o'ercast, They always must be with us, or we die. thank you for such a good read in the morning moonchai: Am i understanding you post other authors poems here not ones written by members here? Are you ensuring that any copyright are not being upheld?
lookinside_2: Anchor Baby... Tim Burton There was a beautiful girl who came from the sea. And there was just one place that she wanted to be. With a man named Walker who played in a band. She would leave the ocean and come onto the land. He was the one that she wanted the most. And she tried everything to capture this ghost. But throughout all their lives they never connected. She wandered the earth alone and rejected She tried looking happy she tried looking tragic, she tried astral projecting, sex, and black magic. Nothing could join them, except maybe one thing, just maybe... something to anchor their spirits.... They had a baby. But to give birth to a baby they needed a crane. the umbilical cord was in the form of a chain. I t was ugly and gloomy, and as hard as a kettle. It had no pink skin, just heavy gray metal. The baby that was meant to bring them together, just shrouded them both in a cloud of foul weather. So Walker took off to play with the band. And from that day on, he stayed mainly on land. And she was alone with her gray baby anchor, who got so oppressive that eventually sank her. As she went to the bottom, not fulfilling her wish, it was her, and her baby ... and a few scattered fish memberX: Exotic Perfume-by Charles Baudelaire When, on an autumn evening, with closed eyes, I breathe the warm dark fragrance of your breast, Before me blissful shores unfold, caressed By dazzling fires from blue Unchanging skies. And there, upon the calm and drowsing isle, Grow luscious fruits amid fantastic trees : There, men are light : the women of those seas Amaze one with their gaze that knows no guile. Your perfume wafts me thither like a wind : I see a harbour thronged with masts and sails Soil weary from the tumult of the gales; And with the sailors' song that drifts to me Are mingled odours of the tamarind, --And all my soul is scent and melody. (Edited by memberX) PralineQueen: I love Blake and Poe. Do you already have poems lined up for the next few days? How about some Dickinson or Whitman? Or Charles Bukowski? (Edited by PralineQueen) | poems Chat Room Similar Conversations |