Your favorite poem

[mardigrasbob 0]

Old men worship w/ long
noses, old soulful eyes.
Young girls worship,
exotic, indian, w/ robes
who make us feel foolish
for acting w/ our eyes.
Lost in the vanity of the senses
which got us where we are.
Children worship but seldom
act at it. Who needs
temples & couches & T.V.

We can do it on a sunny
floor w/ friends & make
any sound or movement
that comes. Roll on our
backs screaming w/ mirth
glad in the guilt of our
madness. Better to be
cool in our worship &
gain the respect of the
ancient & wise wearing
those robes. They know
the secret of mind-change
reality.
--J. Morrison
------------------------

[mark 102]

From TS Eliot, "The Wasteland"

O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag—
It's so elegant
So intelligent
'What shall I do now? What shall I do?'
'I shall rush out as I am, walk the street
'With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?
'What shall we ever do?


Mark

[12500ft 2]

In honor of my lousy month, here's my current favorite.

Falling Apart
One fragile puzzel piece
Leaves the table, hits the ground.
No one's there to see it,
And it doesn't make a sound.

The spider's web from centre grows,
A brittle crack does crawl,
It would only take a gentle tap,
All shattered pieces then would fall.

A window now created
Where once the broken piece did lie
Shows the crimson, bleeding skin
Threatening to die.

Tears welling never falling,
Puzzle holding them in place.
A myriad of mended tiles,
Conceal fractured, splintered face.

Invisible is safe they say,
No one can see your pain.
Hide behind the tattered mask,
The tear marred skin you've stained.

Gather up those pieces now,
And bond them back once more.
Wall back those tears that threaten hot
To burn their mask upon the floor.

[Zep 0]

Beans beans good for your heart
The more you eat the more you fart
The more you fart the better you feel
So lets have beans for every meal

Gone fishing

[skydiver30960 0]

A few for you. Starting with a dose of teenage angst from my highschool years (pardon my skipping the accent marks):

Ayer

Te vi ayer,
No me sonreiste.
Solamente continuabas caminando,
Brazo y brazo
con el.

Te recorde ayer,
No me llamaste.
Habian cosas mejores que hacer,
Habian hombres mejores tambien.

Gritaba tu nombre ayer,
No me oiste.
Solamente los arboles oyeron,
Y ellos no recuerdan.

Tome la mano ayer,
Tantas veces, en el mente.
Pero la mano no movio,
Se quedo a mi lado.

Lo hice todo ayer,
No te diste cuenta.
Que voy hacer
Hoy?

And a poem to go with "Dulce et decorum est..." and a response written by an author I know of only by name. How I found the response is pretty magical, but that's for another post...

In Flanders Fields
Lt. Col. John Alexander McCrae

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place. And in the sky
The larks still bravely singing fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow.
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders Fields

Take up the quarrel with the foe!
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch, be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders Fields.

A response by Maud Oliver

Yes, ye may sleep, ye Canadian brave,
For freedom's flag forever waves
Where once the hun with iron tread
Trampled the living and the dead.
You heard the call from distant land
And caught the torch from falling hand.
You held it high, and carried on
'Till victory at last was won.

True, you no more see sunset glow
Nor feel the breeze of morn ablow
Nor hear the skylark's lilting note
Rise up to Heaven from golden throat.
Yet in our home beyond our ken
You still shall guide the hearts of men.
Though crucified and torture wrung,
Your deeds shall live on every tongue.

Sleep softly then, in Flanders bed,
'Neath coverlet of poppy red.
The wind shall softly o'er you sigh,
The birds sing soothing lullaby.

Elvisio "chokes me up every damn time" Rodriguez

[Snowbird 0]

A favourite from when I was little, by Robert Louis Stevenson. The first book I ever saved up for and bought was his A Child's Garden of Verses.

Where Go The Boats?

Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.

Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating -
Where will all come home?

On goes the river
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.

Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.

Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.
-Robert A. Heinlein

[headoverheels 291]

One of many great ones from Shel Silverstein, who also wrote "Boy Named Sue," "Cover of the Rolling Stone" and the Unicorn song.


The Smoke-off

In the laid back California town of sunny San Rafael
Lived a girl named Pearly Sweetcake, you prob’ly knew her well.
She’d been stoned fifteen of her eighteen years and the story was widely told
That she could smoke 'em faster than anyone could roll.
Her legend finally reached New York, that Grove Street walk-up flat
Where dwelt The Calistoga Kid, a beatnik from the past
With long browned lightnin’ fingers he takes a cultured toke
And says, “Hell, I can roll ‘em faster, Jim, than any chick can smoke!”

So a note gets sent to San Rafael, “For the Championship of the World
The Kid demands a smoke off!” "Well, bring him on!" says Pearl,
"I'll grind his fingers off his hands, he'll roll until he drops!"
Says Calistog, "I'll smoke that twist till she blows up and pops!”
So they rent out Yankee Stadium and the word is quickly spread
"Come one, come all, who walk or crawl, price – just two lids a head
And from every town and hamlet, over land and sea they speed
The world's greatest dopers, with the Worlds greatest weed
Hashishers from Morocco, hemp smokers from Peru
And the Shamnicks from Bagun who puff the deadly Pugaroo
And those who call it Light of Life and those that call it boo.

See the dealers and their ladies wearing turquoise, lace, and leather
See the narcos and the closet smokers puffin’ all together
From the teenies who smoke legal to the ones who've done some time
To the old man who smoked “reefer” back before it was a crime
And the grand old house that Ruth built is filled with the smoke and cries
Of fifty thousand screaming heads all stoned out of their minds.
And they play the national anthem and the crowd lets out a roar
As the spotlight hits The Kid and Pearl, ready for their smokin' war
At a table piled up high with grass, as high as a mountain peak
Just tops and buds of the rarest flowers, not one stem, branch or seed.

Maui Wowie, Panama Red and Acapulco Gold.
Kif from East Afghanistan and rare Alaskan Cold.
Sticks from Thailand, Ganja from the Islands, and Bangkok's Bloomin' Best.
And some of that wet imported shit that capsized off Key West.
Oaxacan tops and Kenya Bhang and Riviera Fleurs.
And that rare Manhatten Silver that grows down in the New York sewers.
And there's bubblin’ ice cold lemonade and sweet grapes by the bunches.
And there's Hershey’s bars, and Oreos, ‘case anybody gets the munchies.
And the Calistoga Kid, he sneers, and Pearly, she just grins.
And the drums roll low and the crowd yells “GO!” and the world’s first Smoke Off begins.

Kid flicks his magic fingers once and ZAP! that first joint’s rolled.
Pearl takes one drag with her mighty lungs and WOOSH! that roach is cold.
Then The Kid he rolls his Super Bomb that’d paralyze a moose.
And Pearley takes one super hit and SLURP! that bomb’ defused.
Then he rolls three in just ten seconds and she smokes 'em up in nine,
And everybody sits back and says, "This just might take some time."
See the blur of flyin’ fingers, see the red coal burnin’ bright
As the night turns into mornin’ and the mornin’ fades to night
And the autumn turns to summer and a whole damn year is gone
But the two still sit on that roach-filled stage, smokin' and rollin' on
With tremblin’ hands he rolls his jays with fingers blue and stiff
She coughs and stares with bloodshot gaze, and puffs through blistered lips.
And as she reaches out her hand for another stick of gold
The Kid he gasps, "Goddamn it, bitch, there's nothin' left to roll!"
"Nothin’ left to roll?", screams Pearl, "Is this some twisted joke?”
“I didn't come here to fuck around, man, I come here to SMOKE!"
And she reaches 'cross the table And grabs his bony sleeves
And she crumbles his body between her hands like dried and brittle leaves
Flickin' out his teeth and bones like useless stems and seeds
And then she rolls him in a Zig Zag and lights him like a roach.
And the fastest man with the fastest hands goes up in a puff of smoke.

In the laid-back California town of sunny San Rafael
Lives a girl named Pearly Sweetcake, you prob’ly know her well.
She’s been stoned twenty-one of her twenty-four years, and the story’s widely told.
How she still can smoke them faster than anyone can roll
While off in New York City on a street that has no name.
There's the hands of the Calistoga Kid in the Viper Hall of Fame
And underneath his fingers there's a little golden scroll
That says, Beware of Bein’ the Roller When There's Nothin’ Left to Roll.

[4dbill 0]

Hippo's Hope
By Shel Silverstein

There once was a hippo who wanted to fly --
Fly-hi-dee, try-hi-dee, my-hi-dee-ho.
So he sewed him some wings that could flap through the sky --
Sky-hi-dee, fly-hi-dee, why-hi-dee-go.
He climbed to the top of a mountain of snow --
Snow-hi-dee, slow-hi-dee, oh-hi-dee-hoo.
With the clouds high above and the sea down below --
Where-hi-dee, there-hi-dee, scare-hi-dee-boo.

(Happy ending)
And he flipped and he flapped and he bellowed so loud --
Now-hi-dee, loud-hi-dee, proud-hi-dee-poop.
And he sailed like an eagle, off into the clouds --
High-hi-dee, fly-hi-dee, bye-hi-dee-boop.

(Unhappy ending)
And he leaped like a frog and he fell like a stone --
Stone-hi-dee, lone-hi-dee, own-hi-dee-flop.
And he crashed and he drowned and broke all his bones --
Bones-hi-dee, moans-hi-dee, groans-hi-dee-glop.

(Chicken ending)
He looked up at the sky and looked down at the sea --
Sea-hi-dee, free-hi-dee, whee-hi-dee-way.
And he turned and went home and had cookies and tea --
That's hi-dee, all hi-dee, I have to say

[DSE 3]

Sunset comes, not different from the one before
Beyond the rain that fell walking through the door
Silence now the only sound is heartbeats loud
Pounding pain not felt long since, hidden no more
Moving ‘cross the sky, soul bent to ride
Hell rides with me, within, from inside
Fly with me, your name upon the breeze
soft winds arms open wide
Tension deepened, lips parted begging you
Please
Please
Find me here, speaking there
spirit dark against the storm

Burning wings I’m falling fast
so desperate, love might last
It never has before
I’m back once
Once more to a place I swore
I’d never visit ever more

Jaded, fated to fall and fail
The ride is worth the pain,
Insane?
Doing the same thing twice
Hopeful to renew
Close my eyes and trust myself
Trust in you and no one else
Ground coming faster
So little time
An empty heart
Partner in crime
Agony in those left behind…

I’ll never forget that long flight. It was a moment I’ll cherish forever. I wanted to share it with you.

[Tuna-Salad 0]

When I am called to duty, God,
Whenever flames my rage;
Give me the strength to save a life
Whatever be it's age
Help me embrace a child
Before it is too late
Or save and older person
From the horror of that fate
Enable me to be alert
And hear the weakest shout
And quickly and efficiently
Put the fire out
I want to fill my calling
And to give the best in me
To guard my every neighbor
And protect his property
And if, according to my fate
I am to lose my life,
Bless with your protecting hand
My children and my wife


I used to keep this taped to the inside of the top of my helmet when I worked at the fire department.

Millions of my potential children died on your daughters' face last night.

[quade 3]

Felis catus is your taxonomic nomenclature,
An endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature;
Your visual, olfactory, and auditory senses
Contribute to your hunting skills and natural defenses.

I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
A singular development of cat communications
That obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
For a rhythmic stroking of your fur to demonstrate affection.

A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents;
You would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
And when not being utilized to aid in locomotion,
It often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.

O Spot, the complex levels of behavior you display
Connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.

-- "Data" (Actually, Brannon Braga wrote it if I'm not mistaken since he's the one actually credited with writing the episode.)

quade -
The World's Most Boring Skydiver

[freethefly 6]

I had a black light poster on my wall way back in the early 70's of this poem. Made sense then and even more so today.

By Fritz Pearls the founder of Gestalt Therapy

I do my thing and you do your thing.
I am not in this world to live up to your expectations and you are not in the world to live up to mine.
You are you and I am I.
If by chance we find each other it is beautiful!
If not, it cannot be helped.

"...And once you're gone, you can't come back
When you're out of the blue and into the black."
Neil Young

[BlueSBDeath 2]

I wrote this in High School (1976).

What is time,
But time within time itself,
as time changes,
from time to time.

Yes, I was High!!

Arvel
BSBD

[KermieCorleone 0]

might be a wee bit narcissistic but I like because of who I wrote it for ...

Quote

While the rest of the world went round and round,
My desperation was rising in the air all around,
I wanted to run, the eyes said it all loud and clear.
In vain and in desperation I called out for my old dear,
I searched the heavens and stars, for my little dear was good,
Face full of tears, I couldn't understand how they could?

In need of blessing, didn't even have time to tie up loose ends,
Long to hear her voice say my name, long for a little time to make amends,
Cant leave you, turn my back and walk away, I'm trying so hard to be brave.
Wondering "Is there a heaven or hell on earth?", its hearing her voice I crave,
As all the plans I made start to fade, because no matter how hard I try,
My old dear didn't even wait for me to say I love you and Goodbye?

- Neil

Never make assumptions! That harmless rectangle could be two triangles having sex ...

[KermieCorleone 0]

Quote

This is my favourite poem also (even if slightly modified)

IF By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream and not make dreams your master;
If you can think and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

that used to be in my dentists office back when I had braces so I used to ponder on it once a month for a year and half and I still love it

- Neil

Never make assumptions! That harmless rectangle could be two triangles having sex ...

[xtravrtsoul 0]

I write poetry:
Here is one I wrote that I love:

Straddling it....
Riding on it....

Grasping on the grips....

Feeling the vibration between my legs....

Its warmth caresses my inner thighs....

I lean forward....

I crank my hand back....

My heart races full of adrenaline....

I hug the body....

I reach my ultimate climax....

Ohhhhhhh my god, I whisper.......

I love my motorcycle ;)

You create life, life does not create you.

[robskydiv 0]

Here's one I recently wrote, It's called "twenty three: "Twenty three and twenty three,
It takes both sets to make me me.
Twenty three from mum and twenty three from dad, I've got both sets and I'm so glad.
I like guy stuff and some girl stuff too,
But don't judge me, because without both sets, You would not be you.

[robskydiv 0]

Yo soy un hombre sincero
de donde crece la palma
Y antes de morirme
Quiero echar los versos del alma.

[KermieCorleone 0]

Quote

Yo soy un hombre sincero
de donde crece la palma
Y antes de morirme
Quiero echar los versos del alma.

subtitles?

- Neil

Never make assumptions! That harmless rectangle could be two triangles having sex ...

[KermieCorleone 0]

Erlkönig

Who rides here so late through night and wind?
It is a father with his small child.
He holds his son firm in his arms
He clasps him safely, he keeps him warm.

"My son, oh why do you look so afraid?"
"See Father, don't you see the Erlking is there?
The Erlking, Erlking with crown and cloak?"
"My son, it's a wisp of mist."

"My dearest child, come, go with me!
all kinds of games I'll play with you;
such lovely flowers bloom on the bank,
and my mother has many golden clothes."

"My father, my father, and do you not hear,
What erlking promises sweetly to me?"
"Stay peaceful, oh stay calm, dearest child;
In leaves so dry there rustles the wind."

"Will you dear boy, will you come with me
My daughters soon they will wait on you;
My daughters lead in the nightly dance
And sway and dance and beckon to you."

"My father, my father, and do you not see,
The Erlkings daughters in that dark place?"
"My son, my son, I see it so clear:
Tis only the ancient willows so grey."

"I love you, your fine figure attracts me so much;
And if you're not willing, I'll take you by force."
"My father, my father, he's grasping me now!
Erlking has hurt me, has hurt me!"

The father shudders, he quickens his pace,
He holds in his arms the groaning child.
He reaches home with haste and dread;
In his arms, the child was dead.

- Neil

Never make assumptions! That harmless rectangle could be two triangles having sex ...

[KermieCorleone 0]

Quote

I write poetry:
Here is one I wrote that I love:

Straddling it....
Riding on it....

Grasping on the grips....

Feeling the vibration between my legs....

Its warmth caresses my inner thighs....

I lean forward....

I crank my hand back....

My heart races full of adrenaline....

I hug the body....

I reach my ultimate climax....

Ohhhhhhh my god, I whisper.......

I love my motorcycle ;)

here's another biker poem, I thought was pretty cool ...


Sonnet CXII - A TWO WHEELED RITE OF PASSAGE
He sallies forth, my little boy, now two-wheeled
But this is not transition from his tricycle:
Horsepower sixty five, his wheels have squealed;
My too-soon grown lad, on my motorcycle.

His learner's permit held in his back pocket;
Four cylinders of Macho roaring past.
Not yet sixteen, propelled as if by rocket;
It's years, not miles that have gone by too fast.

My little boy, who sucked his thumb, who teased his sister,
Is reaching out to make the world his own.
Does license make the world now call him mister?
And shall he, two-wheeled, leave me soon alone?

But privately, I smile at his brave feat;
For part of me rides with him, down the street.

by R.A. Hirschfeld, Fountain Hills AZ, 7/15/81, The week his son, Willy, got his driver's learner's permit.

- Neil

Never make assumptions! That harmless rectangle could be two triangles having sex ...

[KermieCorleone 0]

Over the hills in a weird little land.
Live fairies and goblins with more than two hands.
Some gremlins they say, can come with four eyes.
The dragons can scorch with the simplest of sighs.
The scariest things to people like us,
cos nothing can touch them, they're allergic to fuss.
Until their mother appeared, started roaming their valley.
Hiding and pouncing from damp, dark alleys.
No noise, No chewing, No signs of a fight.
Devouring the children with a plate of French fries.
The bitch as she's called in the company of elves.
Brought this tormenting curse upon herself.
She'd been on a bender and staggered home pissed.
Found an eighth and some Rizlas and rolled out a spliff.
Got the munchies and reached for the handiest snack.
She hate her own kids and then spat them straight back.
"Forgive me, my beauties, what a dreadful mistake!"
The children can't hear her they've gone it's too late.

"Debbie Gallagher - Shameless"

- Neil

Never make assumptions! That harmless rectangle could be two triangles having sex ...

[KermieCorleone 0]

I forgot who wrote this but I can dig it ...




If you was white, you be alright
but if youse black, oh brother get back,
and if youse brown, "get down!!! get down!!! get down!!!"

I am now the new black,
the new negro, the new jew,
the new criminal.

By my appearance,
I have surrendered my integrity and my dignity.

This is my burden,
I'll get used to wearing it.

One day, this war on terrorism will be over,
or I'll have gotten used to it.

Or, some day, the terrorists will look different
and they'll carry something else.

Then I may be given some relief.

Until then, "If you's brown, get down,
get down, get down."

- Neil

Never make assumptions! That harmless rectangle could be two triangles having sex ...

[JohnMitchell 14]

I think I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree.

[warpedskydiver 0]

There was a MILF from Nantucket, who said hold it still and I'll....