Poets of the day (Page 2)

Comrade_
Comrade_: *writes down the little russian lady's request*
haaha I will..but don't call me babushka in public !
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Comrade_
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.
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venus_in_spurs1
venus_in_spurs1: I'm a huge Dante fan. Thanks for posting!
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dirty69
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
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Comrade_
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_)
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Comrade_
Comrade_: @ dirty69.. sorry about your lost.
I think women have more heart & emotion than us...correction "some" women.
(Edited by Comrade_)
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angel
angel: To much death for me. I like the living. But they are good.
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Batgirl76
Batgirl76: Im enjoying singing all these beautiful poems aloud.
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memberX
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.
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memberX
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.
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S lady
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.
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memberX
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.
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memberX
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.

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Comrade_
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_)
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memberX
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.

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Aryaa
Aryaa: ^^^^ very beautiful poem
How many demands ,,,,is also very nice.
(Edited by Aryaa)
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memberX
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.
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Aryaa
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
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Jokerswiild84
Jokerswiild84: nice one
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LITTLE_HEART PARK
LITTLE_HEART PARK: i am not understand completely ..but little bit few are so nice..
i like it..
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moonchai
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?
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lookinside_2
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
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memberX
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)
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wolf_92
wolf_92: Edgar Allen Poe. My all time favorite
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PralineQueen
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)
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