Poetry

[Clevercat]

Anyone fancy sharing some nice poems,? Either their own or a favourite they have read.

Here is one I wrote.

                 THE WATERS.........



The sand, from a distance, looks almost as if on canvas,

Put there by the delicate strokes of an artists brush.

The mould of this picture is broken only by the movement of the sea.

The ebb and flow of the tide, enveloping all it meets.

Washing over rocks of old and shells long left empty,

Cascading waters full of shades of blue and green..........

I walk closer to the waters edge, the sand so soft beneath my toes

The breeze inviting me to breathe in deeply the fresh salty air.

I fill my lungs with the freshness and feel envigorated,

The sun on my skin warms me, making me feel so alive

The coolness of the water reaches my feet

I look out at the boats which rock haphazardly in the distance

I look up, almost laughing out loud, overwhelmed by the site before me

For a moment, I am part of that incredible picture,

Captured, like an oil print, in awe of the beauty I was immersed in.

[Clevercat]

And another from me.


                    Sonnet.

My lovers eyes do not dance with light like fire
Blood is by far redder than his lips red.
A birds song, could lift my spirits higher,
Than his serenading voice, ringing in my head.
The colour in his cheeks, is that of a dying rose,
His face as rough as a thoughtless kiss,
Through his ebony hair, greyness shows,
A flowers colour, so much warmer than he is.
He empties his heart, without reserve, holds no secrets,
Yet sometimes my head aches from his silence.
His eyes never look at me with regret,
But when hurt inside, his mind is full of violence.
Yet I understand his feelings thoughts and fears,
Love is acceptance,
Thru the sun, rain, smiles and tears.



(written at School, but a little favourite of mine)

[Andy]

Like your opening poem Donna  . On a similar(ish) theme I wrote the below as part of the college writing course.

Starlight Swimming

I am an observer on a clear, starry night.
Sat in a deckchair, chilling on a sunbed,
standing on the shore, leaning on a barrier.
Wandering, watching, listening, sensing.

Who are you?

Are you one of the girls in bikinis at this outdoor pool party,
or one of the guys knocking back the pints?
Trying to impress each other ; you're not doing very well.
Leering, swearing, splashing, flirting.
Not for me.

Are you one step further into oblivion from them?
Music blaring, thumping, piercing at the Shock Bar.
Bubbles pouring from above transform Shock Bar into Foam Party Bar.
Up to your waist in suds, lost in the madness.
Not for me.

I move on.
Laughter, screaming, splashing again.
Piles of chips, burgers and buns.
Are you one of the children at this midnight fun pool?
That's better.
Pure, unbridled, harmless fun.
Not for me, but better.

I hear waves gently lapping.
Something catches my eye in the twinkling saltiness.
Are you this athlete training for a swimming competition?
Working tirelessly in the serene surroundings.
Keep going mate.
It's not for me, but the surroundings are.

Are you one of the gulls bobbing on the water?
Dozing aimlessly.
I could watch you until daybreak when you follow the trawlers full of fresh fish.

Are you one of the dolphins further out?
Illuminated by the low full moon, leaping and playing.
How beautiful.
I stand and admire your agility,
gentle, yet strong and free.

I find myself in the natural wonders.
Have I found you?
You see, this one star has been there all night :
bright, twinkling, winking at me.

Yes it is you!

I'll sit here on the sand.
Watching, listening, sensing.
Gulls bobbing, waves lapping,
Dolphins leaping, moon illuminating.
You swimming above me, free.

(c) Andy Bown

[Clevercat]

                       Day Break

The blazing orange sun, slowly rises,
Surrounded by a fiery red heat,
Bouncing up into the pale blue sky,
To which the clouds will meet.
Colours, seemingly hazy, begin to blend
Then shine, in full bloom glory.
Brightening up the whole of the skies,
Light begins to strengthen, morning sighs...
The whisper is that of the breeze,
Moaning with such gentle ease,
Caressing the still sleepy land
Reaching over it like an awakening hand.
A soft, hushed melody can be heard,
Coming from each graceful, soaring bird,
They spread, encircled flight in the air
Causing a soft uplifting rush.
Still, the sun hangs, like a burning ember,
Brightening up the expanse of the sea
The sands appear to be all the more golden.
Quietly I observe this, as you sit here next to me.
That morning, the sun, hung like a lantern,
As white clouds went drifting clumsily by
Each one, holding a beautiful secret
That begins the break of another special day.

Donna-Michelle

[Clevercat]

Love it Andy, great stuff 

[Clevercat]

               The Waterfall  (written next to a waterfall when I went to the Brecon Beacons)

   Tranquility, at it's very best.
   Slumbering nature, at incredible rest.
   The power of the water, falling from such great height
   That crystal waterfall, what a magical sight.
   What a perfect setting, positively surreal.
   Majectic trees, twisting towards the sky
   Entangling with a blanket of clouds
   Almost sheltering this scene of such beauty.
   Perfection is simply to small a word to describe
   This magnificent sight before my very eyes,
   Such splendour, a taste of beauty so rare
   The completing factor was that you were also there.

[Greenman]

There was a young man from Dundee
Who had fish and chips for his tea
washed it all down with a bottle of brown
and played all night on his wii

[Clevercat]

   Nice one LOL

[Clevercat]

I love Rudyard Kiplings Poem, IF......... and keep a copy on my fridge for reference!!!
IF.....
 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



 
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!


 

[Yokel]

ROOTS _ SHow Of Hands


Now it's been 25 years or more
I've roamed this land from shore to shore
From Tyne to Teign, or Severn to Thames
From moor to vale, from peak to fen

Played in cafes, pubs and bars
I've stood in the street with my own guitar
But I'd be richer than all the rest
If I had a pound for each request

For 'Duelling Banjos', 'American Pie'
It's enough to make you cry
'Rule Britannia', or 'Swing low...'
Are they the only songs we English know?

Seed, bark, flower, fruit
They're never gonna grow without their roots
Branch, stem, shoot
They need roots

After the speeches, when the cake's been cut
The disco's over and the bar is shut
At christening, birthday, wedding or wake
What can we sing 'til the morning breaks

When the Indians, Asians, Afro-Celts
It's in their blood, below their belt
They're playing and dancing all night long
So what have they got right that we've got wrong?

Seed, bark, flower, fruit
They're never gonna grow without their roots
Branch, stem, shoot
They need roots and

Haul away boys, let them go
Out in the wind and the rain and snow
We've lost more than we'll ever know
'Round the rocky shores of England
We need roots

And a minister said his vision of hell
Is three folk singers in a pub near Wells
Well, I've got a vision of urban sprawl
There's pubs where no-one ever sings at all

And everyone stares at a great big screen
Overpaid soccer stars, prancing teens
Australian soap, American rap
Estuary English, baseball caps

And we learn to be ashamed before we walk
Of the way we look, and the way we talk
Without our stories or our songs

How will we know where we come from?
I've lost St. George and the Union Jack
That's my flag too and I want it back

Seed, bark, flower, fruit
Never gonna grow without their roots
Branch, stem, shoot
We need roots

Haul away boys, let them go
Out in the wind and the rain and snow
We've lost more than we'll ever know
'Round the rocky shores of England
We need roots...

[snappersnipes]

                                             OLD WESTBURY

All sweetly clad with Hill and Vale,
Old Westbury town doth stand,
With many a pretty Villa,
and Factory on it`s land.

Where many a pretty garden smiles,
Beside the running stream,
With their clustered gay Chrysanthemums,
All in sunlight gleam.

Out shopping here and chatting there,
Around the Market place,
Where many a charming girl is seen,
in coat and fancy lace.

Where the Ivy green is clinging,
Around the old Church Tower,
As the bells are sweetly chiming,
The pleasant passing hour.

High! On the woody old Cop Head,
Some rare old bones were found,
With many an ancient relic,
All buried `neath the ground.

Remains the warrior`s old White horse,
Chalked out upon the Downs,
A curious sight you`ll ne`er will see,
Like this near any Towns.

Where the ragged old Virginias,
Hang o`er the window panes,
Of the rustic homely Cottage,
And walls down in the lanes.

Fair Westbury! Old Westbury!
This busy little Town,
Now arrayed in all it`s splendour,
In nature`s Autumn gown.


October 1919              B. EVES

[Yokel]

Separate Ways by Teddy Thompson - this song must mean something to just about everyone:

Come rolling into town unaware
Of the power that you have over me
And what am I to do
With hello how are you
Nothing's ever said that should be

And I don't care about you
If you don't care about me
We can go our separate ways
If you want to
The ties of love are strong
But they can be undone
And we'll go our separate ways
If you want to

I'm turning into me, not you
I can change my mind not my blood
And not all who love are blind
Some of us are just too kind
We forgive too much
And never speak our minds

And I don't care about you
If you don't care about me
We can go our separate ways
If you want to
The ties of love are strong
But they can be undone
And we'll go our separate ways
If you want to

I'm giving up on you
And I'll turn my heart to something new
And we'll go our separate ways
If you want to

I stood out in the rain
Holding my breath
Waiting for you
You never came
You broke my heart
You broke my heart
I know who's to blame
You're to blame

And I don't care about you
If you don't care about me
We can go our separate ways
If you want to
The ties of love are strong
But they can be undone
And we'll go our separate ways
If you want to

[Soup]

And another from me.


                    Sonnet.

My lovers eyes do not dance with light like fire
Blood is by far redder than his lips red.
A birds song, could lift my spirits higher,
Than his serenading voice, ringing in my head.
The colour in his cheeks, is that of a dying rose,
His face as rough as a thoughtless kiss,
Through his ebony hair, greyness shows,
A flowers colour, so much warmer than he is.
He empties his heart, without reserve, holds no secrets,
Yet sometimes my head aches from his silence.
His eyes never look at me with regret,
But when hurt inside, his mind is full of violence.
Yet I understand his feelings thoughts and fears,
Love is acceptance,
Thru the sun, rain, smiles and tears.



(written at School, but a little favourite of mine)

You have to love 14 lines of iambic pentameter. Not sure if this is strictly a sonnet, but I'm being pedantic 

[dearjudy]

Бабушке

Продолговатый и твёрдый овал,
Чёрного платья раструбы...
Юная бабушка! Кто целовал
Ваши надменные губы?

Руки, которые в залах дворца
Вальсы Шопена играли...
По сторонам ледяного лица
Локоны, в виде спирали.

Тёмный, прямой и взыскательный взгляд.
Взгляд, к обороне готовый.
Юные женщины так не глядят.
Юная бабушка, кто вы?

Сколько возможностей вы унесли,
И невозможностей - сколько? -
В ненасытимую прорву земли,
Двадцатилетняя полька!

День был невинен, и ветер был свеж.
Тёмные звёзды погасли.
- Бабушка! - Этот жестокий мятеж
В сердце моём - не от вас ли?..

(Марина Цветаева)

[Bazza]

Бабушке

Продолговатый и твёрдый овал,
Чёрного платья раструбы...
Юная бабушка! Кто целовал
Ваши надменные губы?

Руки, которые в залах дворца
Вальсы Шопена играли...
По сторонам ледяного лица
Локоны, в виде спирали.

Тёмный, прямой и взыскательный взгляд.
Взгляд, к обороне готовый.
Юные женщины так не глядят.
Юная бабушка, кто вы?

Сколько возможностей вы унесли,
И невозможностей - сколько? -
В ненасытимую прорву земли,
Двадцатилетняя полька!

День был невинен, и ветер был свеж.
Тёмные звёзды погасли.
- Бабушка! - Этот жестокий мятеж
В сердце моём - не от вас ли?..

(Марина Цветаева)

Eh?? What's that in English?