la poesie

Discussion in 'Off-topic' started by rifke, Jan 31, 2019.

  1. Anonymous

    Anonymous Guest

    I had an abortion
    The decision was tough
    But I can't have a baby...
    Just myself is enough!

    And my dad would get angry!
    And my mother would cry!
    Darling, please understand me.
    Hun, you cannot deny-

    We're too young to have babies!
    Hell, we're babies! You see
    Why I had an abortion!
    We're kids! We should be free!

    The boy froze where he stood and
    The boy's blue eyes grew wild
    The boy dropped to his knees and wailed
    "You killed my child"
     
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  2. Anonymous

    Anonymous Guest

    Ett stadium
    kanske det sista
    hos Gud
    är att han inte finns


    --Lars Nore'n
     
  3. Anonymous

    Anonymous Guest

    My Pickle

    ...may my pickle stroll about hungry
    and fearless and thirsty and supple
    and even if it's sunday may it be wrong
    for whenever gherkins are green they are not young

    and may my sweet and sour do nothing usefully
    and love yourself so more than pickle-juicey
    there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
    pulling all the sky over him with one bite.

    © 1995 by Jon Glass.
     
  4. Anonymous

    Anonymous Guest

  5. Try Anything Twice

    Try Anything Twice Consultant to the World

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    I like this thread idea, @rifke and it seems to be quite the success with all the posts in just a few days! I’m going to need a lifetime to catch up!
     
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  6. Try Anything Twice

    Try Anything Twice Consultant to the World

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    Here’s one my mother used to read to me all the time when I was little. It comes to mind now for obvious reasons.

    Pinkle Purr
    A. A. Milne

    Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr,
    A little black nothing of feet and fur;
    And by-and-by, when his eyes came through,
    He saw his mother, the big Tattoo.
    And all that he learned he learned from her.
    "I'll ask my mother," says Pinkle Purr.

    Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr,
    A rediculous kitten with silky fur.
    And little black Pinkle grew and grew
    Till he got as big as the big Tattoo.
    And all that he did he did with her.
    "Two friends together," says Pinkle Purr.

    Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr,
    An adventurous cat in a coat of fur.
    And whenever he thought of a thing to do,
    He didn't much bother about Tattooo,
    For he knows it's nothing to do with her,
    So "See you later," says Pinkle Purr.

    Tattoo is the mother of Pinkle Purr,
    An enormous leopard with coal-black fur.
    A little brown kitten that's nearly new
    Is now playing games with its big Tattoo…
    And Pink looks lazily down at her:
    "Dear little Tat," says Pinkle Purr.
     
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  7. Oh my god. it's Robby!

    Oh my god. it's Robby! spontaneously luminescent

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    16195008_10154471788518661_652999683359099073_n.jpg Ozymandias_The_Examiner_1818.jpg 15578927_10154379303918661_5008278047660363502_n.jpg
     
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  8. Try Anything Twice

    Try Anything Twice Consultant to the World

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    1BCB4916-643A-44A6-8C08-2E3143B86FC0.png Coincidently, I had picked up the Poetry In America dvd from the library last week. It’s a PBS series of half hour programs where people from related disciplines help interpret a poem. The first episode was for the following.

    I cannot dance upon my Toes...

    by Emily Dickinson

    I cannot dance upon my Toes—
    No Man instructed me—
    But oftentimes, among my mind,
    A Glee possesseth me,

    That had I Ballet knowledge—
    Would put itself abroad
    In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe—
    Or lay a Prima, mad,

    And though I had no Gown of Gauze—
    No Ringlet, to my Hair,
    Nor hopped to Audiences—like Birds,
    One Claw upon the Air,

    Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,
    Nor rolled on wheels of snow
    Till I was out of sight, in sound,
    The House encore me so—

    Nor any know I know the Art
    I mention—easy—Here—
    Nor any Placard boast me—
    It’s full as Opera—
     
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  9. Ketamine Sun

    Ketamine Sun <><><><><><><>

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    YOUR DREAMS
    Please don't cry
    For the ghost and the storm outside
    Will not invade this sacred shrine
    Nor infiltrate your mind
    My life down I shall lie
    If the bogey-man should try
    To play tricks on your sacred mind
    To tease, torment, and tantalize
    Wavering shadows loom
    A piano plays in an empty room
    There'll be blood on the cleaver tonight
    And when darkness lifts and the room is bright
    I'll still be by your side
    For you are all that matters
    And I'll love you to till the day I die
    There never need be longing in your eyes
    As long as the hand that rocks the cradle is mine
    Ceiling shadows shimmy by
    And when the wardrobe towers like a beast of prey
    There's sadness in your beautiful eyes
    Oh, your untouched, unsoiled, wondrous eyes
    My life down I shall lie
    Should restless spirits try
    To play tricks on your sacred mind
    I once had a child, and it saved my life
    And I never even asked his name
    I just looked into his wondrous eyes
    And said : "never never never again"
    And all too soon I did return
    Just like a moth to a flame
    So rattle my bones all over the stones
    I'm only a beggar-man whom nobody owns
    Oh, see how words as old as sin
    Fit me like a glove
    I'm here and here I'll stay
    Together we lie, together we pray
    There never need be longing in your eyes
    As long as the hand that rocks the cradle is mine
    As long as the hand that rocks the cradle is mine
    Mine
    Climb up on my knee, sonny boy
    Although you're only three, sonny boy
    You're - you're mine
    And your mother she just never knew
    Oh, your mother...
    As long...as long...as long
    I did my best for her
    I did my best for her
    As long...as long...as long as...as long
    I did my best for her
    I did my best for her
    Oh...


    <><><><><><>
     
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  10. rifke

    rifke queen of the universe

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    dreamyneil posted this on his twitter (by Elisabeth barrett browning). it makes me want to weep. I know that so well, I know it with each new wrinkle I gather up. it's the most beautiful poem I've ever read. dreamyneil has the best poems. oh dreamyneil. *sigh*

    [​IMG]
     
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  11. Try Anything Twice

    Try Anything Twice Consultant to the World

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    Fog
    By Carl Sandburg

    The fog comes
    on little cat feet.

    It sits looking
    over harbor and city
    on silent haunches
    and then moves on.
     
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  12. Try Anything Twice

    Try Anything Twice Consultant to the World

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    Halfway Down
    By A. A. Milne

    Halfway down the stairs
    Is a stair
    Where I sit.
    There isn't any
    Other stair
    Quite like
    It.
    I'm not at the bottom,
    I'm not at the top;
    So this is the stair
    Where
    I always
    Stop.

    Halfway up the stairs
    Isn't up
    And it isn't down.
    It isn't in the nursery,
    It isn't in town.
    And all sorts of funny thoughts
    Run round my head.
    It isn't really
    Anywhere!
    It's somewhere else
    Instead!

     
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  13. rifke

    rifke queen of the universe

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    that is the sweetest thing I've ever seen <3
     
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  14. countthree

    countthree Obvious person

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    Oct 7, 2015
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    Well, the boy should take care about where he puts his seeds if he actually thinks this abortion was a killing. In any case, he caused it because without his intervention none of this would have happened. He began the process of abortion when he had irresponsible sex. If he thinks this was a killing, then he should think about himself as a murderer and don't judge anybody else.
     
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  15. Anonymous

    Anonymous Guest

    Roses are dead
    Violetta is blue
    I had to do this
    just because I hate you

    --Dahmer
     
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  16. plopstar

    plopstar I am not a robot

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    I pursed my lips and held them tight

    As you strolled by with grace and poise

    And as you disappeared from sight

    I made a little farty noise

    The end

    by plopstar
     
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  17. 123xyz

    123xyz Well-Known Member Subscriber

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    NEARNESS OF DEATH by Georg Trakl




    O the evening , the one gone into the dark villages of childhood.
    Under the willows the pond
    Fills itself with poisoned sighs of grief.



    O the forest , slowly lowering its brown eyes
    From the slim lovely hand of the abandoned.
    The purple of better days begins fading away.



    O the nearness of death. Let us pray.
    In this night , the delicate limbs of lovers ,
    Yellowed by incense , dissolve on warm pillows.
     
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  18. 123xyz

    123xyz Well-Known Member Subscriber

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    Childhood by Georg Trakl




    The elderbush is heavy with berries ; childhood lived on quietly
    In a blue cavern. The quiet branches are brooding
    Over the bygone path where wild grass now whistles ,
    A pale brown ; rustling of leaves



    Like blue water falling over the rocks.
    The blackbird's soft lament. A shepherd
    Speechlessly follows the sun that rolls from the autumn hill.



    A blue moment is even more spirit.
    A timid deer emerges from the edge of the forest , while the old bells
    And dark villages rest peacefully on this earth.



    More pious now , you know the meaning of the dark years ,
    The cold and autumn in lonely rooms ;
    The ringing of brilliant footsteps in the holy blue.



    The soft rattle of an open window ; seeing
    An abandoned graveyard on the hill brings tears to your eyes ,
    Memories of legends ; still at times the soul grows radiant
    When it brings to mind joyous people , the dark gold days of spring.
     
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  19. rifke

    rifke queen of the universe

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    I like these!
     
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  20. 123xyz

    123xyz Well-Known Member Subscriber

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    And just one more from Trakl ...



    In An Old Album by Georg Trakl



    You keep returning , melancholy ,
    The gentleness of the lonely soul.
    A golden day glows toward its end.



    Humbly , a patient man yields to pain
    Reciting harmony and gentle madness.
    Look , it's already growing dark.



    Again the night returns and a dying man grieves ,
    And another grieves with him.



    Shuddering under the autumn stars ,
    Each year , the head sinks lower and lower.
     
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