Favourite Poems....

Ella Wheeler Wilcox 1916

But to every mind there openeth,
A way, and way, and away,
A high soul climbs the highway,
And the low soul gropes the low,
And in between on the misty flats,
The rest drift to and fro.

But to every man there openeth,
A high way and a low,
And every mind decideth,
The way his soul shall go.

One ship sails East,
And another West,
By the self-same winds that blow,
'Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales,
That tells the way we go.

Like the winds of the sea
Are the waves of time,
As we journey along through life,
'Tis the set of the soul,
That determines the goal,
And not the calm or the strife.
 
This is my most favorite poem of all time. I loved it when I was young becuase I was dreaming about someone loving me and then when I fell in love I found myself feeling more deeeply about anything that related to love.
http://poetry.poetryx.com/poems/1455/


Brown Penny
William Butler Yeats

I whispered, ‘I am too young,’And then, ‘I am old enough’;Wherefore I threw a pennyTo find out if I might love.‘Go and love, go and love, young man,If the lady be young and fair.’Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,I am looped in the loops of her hair.O love is the crooked thing,There is nobody wise enoughTo find out all that is in it,For he would be thinking of loveTill the stars had run awayAnd the shadows eaten the moon.Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,One cannot begin it too soon.
 
What luck!! Love poetry? Ah-ha! We recently acquired a Magnetic Romance Poetry Kit--that's right, magnetic refrigerator poetry made with naughty words.

Here are some of the top ten hits currently hanging on our fridge:

**ahemmmm**

:D ;) :D :p :D ;) :D

that girl
she thigh tantilize
shall celebrate why
devour & die
pure rose pleasure goddess
drenched flower smile
skin cry use me
so am I

fire up his turgid
deep universe handle
like dew over ooze
ripple angel of passion

:eek: :eek: :eek:

(I know, scandalous... here's a good one: )

I run about creature buttock
it soft as the forever breakfast
could kill--
look out!
 
Here is another by Philip Larkin, "At Grass"



The eye can hardly pick them out
From the cold shade they shelter in,
Till wind distresses tail and main;
Then one crops grass, and moves about
- The other seeming to look on -
And stands anonymous again

Yet fifteen years ago, perhaps
Two dozen distances surficed
To fable them: faint afternoons
Of Cups and Stakes and Handicaps,
Whereby their names were artificed
To inlay faded, classic Junes -

Silks at the start: against the sky
Numbers and parasols: outside,
Squadrons of empty cars, and heat,
And littered grass : then the long cry
Hanging unhushed till it subside
To stop-press columns on the street.

Do memories plague their ears like flies?
They shake their heads. Dusk brims the shadows.
Summer by summer all stole away,
The starting-gates, the crowd and cries -
All but the unmolesting meadows.
Almanacked, their names live; they

Have slipped their names, and stand at ease,
Or gallop for what must be joy,
And not a fieldglass sees them home,
Or curious stop-watch prophesies:
Only the grooms, and the grooms boy,
With bridles in the evening come.

Anyway, sometimes I wonder just what the "meaning" of any poem is, whether restricted to the intention of the author..............I just looked up the above poem and found an analysis of it................and was astounded! To my own mind, the phrases "unmolesting meadows" and "they have slipped their names" bring great warmth to the whole poem, not withstanding the typical Larkin end, with intimations of death and its finality. Yet in the analysis I read it spoke of their names being the "only living thing from those past happy days"!.............suggesting to "slip" them was sad! And "unmolesting"? Again, a suggestion that "no-one is interested in them any more"....as if a tragedy!

Well I'll be blowed! Is there a right and a wrong interpretation?

:)
 
Pathless said:
What luck!! Love poetry? Ah-ha! We recently acquired a Magnetic Romance Poetry Kit--that's right, magnetic refrigerator poetry made with naughty words.

Here are some of the top ten hits currently hanging on our fridge:

**ahemmmm**

:D ;) :D :p :D ;) :D

that girl
she thigh tantilize
shall celebrate why
devour & die
pure rose pleasure goddess
drenched flower smile
skin cry use me
so am I

fire up his turgid
deep universe handle
like dew over ooze
ripple angel of passion

:eek: :eek: :eek:

(I know, scandalous... here's a good one: )

I run about creature buttock
it soft as the forever breakfast
could kill--
look out!
Click to expand...

Pathless,

Must admit to being a trifle shocked to find such erotica on an inter-faith forum................normally I have to go further afield to find such fare......:D

Anyway, with such a kit I would suppose that throwing them up in the air and reading whatever falls would produce the desired result...........


:)

P.S. Are there other kits for other purposes?
 
Here's something that is a new favorite of mine,
ever since it occurred to me a few days ago ...


Someone Showed Me What I'd Missed

I saw the Christ today on television.
He was working in the local schools in so many ways I lost count.

He was the principal of the year, only 26 years old,
Who has transformed his school and his students,
And who believes in bringing out their `Greatness.'

I saw the Christ working as a volunteer 87 years of age,
Who has given his time, 4 hours a day, 5 days a week,
For 13 years, as a math tutor ...
And he encouraged others to come join him and lend a hand!

I also saw the Christ a few minutes later, working through the local family
Who donated $2,500 so that young schoolchildren
Could go on a shopping trip for hungry children in their own community,
Thus learning the priceless lesson of generosity
And Compassion for others at such an early age.
How clever Christ was, in this win-win-win expression of His!

He was other places too - in the hearts of every teacher I saw,
Inspiring the administrators, supporting the school officials,
And moving almost effortlessly through the hearts of children of all ages ...
Encouraging them, strengthening them -
And as the 26 year old principal so beautifully demonstrated -
Helping them to keep a positive mental attitude throughout the day.

I never realized until today just how ubiquitious is Christ's Presence -
His very Real and direct activity - in our schools, and in the life of our Communities.
It would seem, I've just been watching the wrong TV channels ...

~~Andrew Stinson/May 20, 2007
 
This poem I wrote a few weeks ago, to describe an experience I had ...


And Giants roamed the Earth ...

A silent Giant, a Titan by stature, paused one night as he passed by,
He stood over me, and far down below, my tiny presence he acknowledged;
He seemed so quiet, so gentle and humble, despite his colossal size,
A moment later, he had moved on, and I was left - to contemplate his loneliness.

~~Andrew Stinson/May 2007
 
This is my first new poem in probably a couple years or so:

It's been two months
since I let go of my tether
vaulted into tohu
dove into my own madness to redeem
the shattered vessels of my self.

It's been two months
since my world constricted
violent involution shook my inner baby
birthed the quiet stillness
that threatens the raging maelstrom.

I've married a whore
crowned myself messiah
annulled The Law
challenged the sultan to yield
spouted The Name
in an antinomian orgy of
chutzpah and emptiness.

Lao Tze tells me
the sage probes the depths
welcomes Gehinnom.

His blessing
: "ride your wild stallion"
frightens me.

I hide from him
in my walled garden crying
"water, water"
until I die

a tree blossoms
from my navel

and gives forth fruit.
 
I should explain the poem a little. Didn't want to give any context when I first put it up. It's about when I stopped taking medication in order to better wrestle with and learn to manage being bipolar. I do so by making references to Judaism, Buddhism, Taoism, Sabbateanism, Sri Aurobindo, Sanatana Dharma, and my own personal experiences, intentionally mashing up all the metaphor and analogy. "The Law" in this case is Western psychiatry and Lao Tze doesn't refer to the author of the Tao Teh Ching. Rather, it refers to both a specific "old man" who gave me a blessing that I should learn to ride my wild stallion and to all of the wise old men I've come across in my life, be they old, young, male or female. The Sabbatean symbolism is in part to hint at Bipolar Disorder as that is likely something Shabtai Tzvi wrestled with. I tried to make the stanzas longer at the start and smaller at the end to show the quieting and constriction that produces something fruitful.

Dauer
 
How do we forgive our fathers?
Maybe in a dream.

Do we forgive our fathers for leaving us too often,
or forever,
when we were little?

Maybe for scaring us with unexpected rage,
or for making us nervous
because there never seemed to be any rage there at all?

Do we forgive our fathers for marrying,
or not marrying,
our mothers?

Or divorcing,
or not divorcing,
our mothers?

And shall we forgive them for their excesses
of warmth
or coldness?

Shall we forgive them
for pushing
or leaning?

For shutting doors?
For speaking through walls?

Or never speaking?
Or never being silent?

Do we forgive our fathers in our age or in theirs?

Or in their deaths,
saying it to them,
or not saying it?

If we forgive our fathers, what is left?

- Dick Lourie​
 
dauer said:
I should explain the poem a little. Didn't want to give any context when I first put it up. It's about when I stopped taking medication in order to better wrestle with and learn to manage being bipolar. I do so by making references to Judaism, Buddhism, Taoism, Sabbateanism, Sri Aurobindo, Sanatana Dharma, and my own personal experiences, intentionally mashing up all the metaphor and analogy. "The Law" in this case is Western psychiatry and Lao Tze doesn't refer to the author of the Tao Teh Ching. Rather, it refers to both a specific "old man" who gave me a blessing that I should learn to ride my wild stallion and to all of the wise old men I've come across in my life, be they old, young, male or female. The Sabbatean symbolism is in part to hint at Bipolar Disorder as that is likely something Shabtai Tzvi wrestled with. I tried to make the stanzas longer at the start and smaller at the end to show the quieting and constriction that produces something fruitful.

Dauer
Click to expand...

Very cool. Thanks.
 
The Sonnets to Orpheus by Rainer Maria Rilke

Second part, XIII

Be ahead of all parting, as though it already were
behind you, like the winter that has just gone by.
For among these winters there is one so endlessly winter
that only by wintering through it will your heart survive.

Be forever dead in Eurydice--more gladly arise
into the seamless life proclaimed in your song
Here, in the realm of decline, among momentary days,
be the crystal cup that shattered even as it rang.

Be--and yet know the great void where all things begin,
the infinite source of your own intense vibration,
so that, this once, you may give it your perfect assent.

To all that is used-up, and to all the muffled and dumb
creatures in the world's full reserve, the unsayable sums,
joyfully add yourself, and cancel the count.
Click to expand...

I like the way he tells us to be in the present moment. Live as intensly as possible in the here and now. I was hesitant in sharing this poem because I love his poems so much that I want to keep them all to myself.

;)
 
The Trees : Philip Larkin

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too.
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.
 
“My Drawing Pad”

Take a look in my drawing pad. Tell me what you see.
You open up the cover. You behold my story.
You continue to turn the page until the pages are empty.

You have heard art teachers say, “Don’t marry your lines.”
On each page you see mistakes erased from history.
Take a look in my drawing pad. Tell me what you see. . .

. . . in my self-portrait, a pencil drawing. You think of what my portrait defines.
You critique it. You interpret my story.
You continue to turn the page until the pages are empty.

You see a figure from different perspectives.
I captured her image in drawing class, which reminds you of my history.
Take a look in my drawing pad. Tell me what you see.

Like a photo album, you see a picture. It is a drawing of relatives.
The medium used is color pencil. I had recorded a story.
You continue to turn the page until the pages are empty.

Like a diary, you turn the page. You see my hearts lifelines.
You see a girl that I love. You see my personal history.
Take a look in my drawing pad. Tell me what you see.
You continue to turn the page until the pages are empty.
Click to expand...

This villanelle is written by me. I was inspired by a poem written by Suheir Hammad. I was trying to express my feelings in a unlikely way.
 
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