Originally posted by Grampy BobbyBut in the importance and noise of to-morrow
... and so that was the morning and evening of the 15th day
which was precisely the same as the previous 14 only different
When the brokers are roaring like beasts on the floor of the
Bourse,
And the poor have the sufferings to which they are fairly
accustomed,
And each in the cell of himself is almost convinced of his
freedom,
A few thousand will think of this day
As one thinks of a day when one did something slightly unusual.
What instruments we have agree
The day of his death was a dark cold day.
Earth, receive an honoured guest:
William Yeats is laid to rest.
Let the Irish vessel lie
Emptied of its poetry.
In the nightmare of the dark
All the dogs of Europe bark,
And the living nations wait,
Each sequestered in its hate;
Intellectual disgrace
Stares from every human face,
And the seas of pity lie
Locked and frozen in each eye.
Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice;
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress;
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountain start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
our visiting poet for Sunday, August 2, 2015
is John Crowe Ransom with an exquisite poem...
_____________________________
Bells for John Whiteside’s Daughter
There was such speed in her little body,
And such lightness in her footfall,
It is no wonder her brown study
Astonishes us all.
Her wars were bruited in our high window.
We looked among orchard trees and beyond
Where she took arms against her shadow,
Or harried unto the pond
The lazy geese, like a snow cloud
Dripping their snow on the green grass,
Tricking and stopping, sleepy and proud,
Who cried in goose, Alas,
For the tireless heart within the little
Lady with rod that made them rise
From their noon apple-dreams and scuttle
Goose-fashion under the skies!
But now go the bells, and we are ready,
In one house we are sternly stopped
To say we are vexed at her brown study,
Lying so primly propped.
~John Crowe Ransom
Originally posted by Grampy BobbyTHE END.
our visiting poet for Sunday, August 2, 2015
is John Crowe Ransom with an exquisite poem...
_____________________________
[b]Bells for John Whiteside’s Daughter
There was such speed in her little body,
And such lightness in her footfall,
It is no wonder her brown study
Astonishes us all.
Her wars were bruited in our high window. ...[text shortened]... ped
To say we are vexed at her brown study,
Lying so primly propped.
~John Crowe Ransom[/b]
Originally posted by redbadgerIn my beginning is my end. In succession
THE END.
Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place
Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.
Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires,
Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth
Which is already flesh, fur, and faeces,
Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf.
Houses live and die: there is a time for building
And a time for living and for generation
And a time for the wind to break the loosened pane
And to shake the wainscot where the field mouse trots
And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto.
Originally posted by nimzophyshfecking gobshoite
In my beginning is my end. In succession
Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place
Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.
Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires,
Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth
Which is already flesh, fur, and faeces,
Bone of man and beast, cornsta ...[text shortened]... wainscot where the field mouse trots
And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto.
Originally posted by Grampy Bobby (OP)
"One Line Never Ending Poem (rhyming is fine; alternatively imagery with cadence and rhythm)"
________________________________
To All Poetry Aficionados Whom It May Concern: Please note this thread's original post in the interest of protecting its structural integrity: one (or two) lines only at a time. Exception: If you would like to present an entire poem written by a published visiting poet on any Sunday, you're more than welcome to do so with attribution to the name of the poet. Otherwise, please post poems you like in the Culture Forum. Thank you.
Originally posted by Grampy Bobby'Poetry in motion'...
Originally posted by Grampy Bobby (OP)
[b]"One Line Never Ending Poem (rhyming is fine; alternatively imagery with cadence and rhythm)"
________________________________
To All Poetry Aficionados to Whom It May Concern: Please note this thread's original post in the interest of protecting its structural integrity: [i]one (or two) lines on ...[text shortened]... to the name of the poet. Otherwise, please post poems you like in the Culture Forum. Thank you.[/b]
a song I used to sing
