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Source: (consider it)
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Thread: Poetic association game
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand miles away,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)
Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay,
An' dreamin' arl the time O' Plymouth Hoe.
Sir Henry Newbolt Drake's Drum
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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QLib
Bad Example
# 43
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Posted
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote
Shakespeare: Sonnet 141
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Tradition is the handing down of the flame, not the worship of the ashes Gustav Mahler.
Posts: 8913 | From: Page 28 | Registered: May 2001
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Mamacita
Lakefront liberal
# 3659
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Posted
shunning the sudden moonbeam's treacherous snare
she sought the harbouring dark,and(catching up
her delicate silk)all white,with shining feet,
went forth into the dew:right wildly beat
her heart at every kiss of daisy-cup,
and from her cheek the beauteous colour went
with every bough that reverently bent
to touch the yellow wonder of her hair.
e.e. cummings, of Nicolette
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Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.
Posts: 20761 | From: where the purple line ends | Registered: Dec 2002
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Jamat
Shipmate
# 11621
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Posted
............though my soul more Bent
To serve therewith my maker and present
My true account lest he returning chide
Doth God exact day labour light denied?
I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: God doth not
need
Either man's work or his own gifts:
John Milton 'On His Blindness'
[ETA Link, DT, VW Host]
[ 10. August 2014, 17:18: Message edited by: Doublethink ]
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Jamat ..in utmost longditude, where Heaven
with Earth and ocean meets, the setting sun slowly descended, and with right aspect
Against the eastern gate of Paradise. (Milton Paradise Lost Bk iv)
Posts: 3228 | From: New Zealand | Registered: Jul 2006
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
.. She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief.
Wm Shakespeare
Twelth Night
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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North East Quine
Curious beastie
# 13049
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Posted
I saw wherein the shroud did lurk
A curious frame of Nature's work;
A floweret crush'd in the bud
A nameless piece of Babyhood,
Was in her cradle-coffin lying;
Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying.
Lamb's On an Infant Dying as soon as Born.
Posts: 6414 | From: North East Scotland | Registered: Oct 2007
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Mamacita
Lakefront liberal
# 3659
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Posted
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas, Do not go gentle into that good night
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Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.
Posts: 20761 | From: where the purple line ends | Registered: Dec 2002
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Cottontail
Shipmate
# 12234
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Posted
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, alas, forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Robert Burns, Ae Fond Kiss
[ 11. August 2014, 08:06: Message edited by: Cottontail ]
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"I don't think you ought to read so much theology," said Lord Peter. "It has a brutalizing influence."
Posts: 2377 | From: Scotland | Registered: Jan 2007
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Baptist Trainfan
Shipmate
# 15128
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Posted
Yet we, the bond slaves of our day,
Whom dirt and danger press--
Co-heirs of insolence, delay,
And leagued unfaithfulness--
Such is our need must seek indeed
And, having found, engage
The men who merely do the work
For which they draw the wage.
Rudyard Kipling.
Posts: 9750 | From: The other side of the Severn | Registered: Sep 2009
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Jamat
Shipmate
# 11621
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Posted
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be
sad
Remember Christina Rosetti
(Edited to fix code)
[ 11. August 2014, 09:38: Message edited by: Firenze ]
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Jamat ..in utmost longditude, where Heaven
with Earth and ocean meets, the setting sun slowly descended, and with right aspect
Against the eastern gate of Paradise. (Milton Paradise Lost Bk iv)
Posts: 3228 | From: New Zealand | Registered: Jul 2006
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Baptist Trainfan
Shipmate
# 15128
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Posted
Err ... you seem to have missed out a couple of poems, there's no "sad" in them to follow on from! Suggest you have another go!
Posts: 9750 | From: The other side of the Severn | Registered: Sep 2009
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North East Quine
Curious beastie
# 13049
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Posted
Or we could assume that Jamat's highlighted word was "yet."
Posts: 6414 | From: North East Scotland | Registered: Oct 2007
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Ariel
Shipmate
# 58
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Posted
Till, with a sudden sharp hot stink of fox
It enters the dark hole of the head.
The window is starless still; the clock ticks,
The page is printed.
Ted Hughes, The Thought-Fox
[ 11. August 2014, 09:41: Message edited by: Ariel ]
Posts: 25445 | Registered: May 2001
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QLib
Bad Example
# 43
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Posted
I submit this is still poetry, tho' not laid out in lines ... And anyway, Ariel had said 'starless', who could think go anything else?
It is Spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobblestreets silent and the hunched, courters'-and- rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboat-bobbing sea.
Dylan Thomas. Under Milkwood
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Tradition is the handing down of the flame, not the worship of the ashes Gustav Mahler.
Posts: 8913 | From: Page 28 | Registered: May 2001
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Baptist Trainfan
Shipmate
# 15128
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Posted
It has to be read by Richard Burton ...
This leads inexorably to:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Dylan Thomas (again).
Posts: 9750 | From: The other side of the Severn | Registered: Sep 2009
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
BT - you haven't emboldened a link word to the previous quote (same author doesn't count).
Firenze
8th Day Host
[ 11. August 2014, 16:21: Message edited by: Firenze ]
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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Ariel
Shipmate
# 58
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Posted
The unpurged images of day recede;
The Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed;
Night resonance recedes, night walkers' song
After great cathedral gong...
Yeats's wonderful poem, Byzantium
[ 11. August 2014, 18:10: Message edited by: Ariel ]
Posts: 25445 | Registered: May 2001
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Mamacita
Lakefront liberal
# 3659
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Posted
Humanity I love you because
when you're hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you're flush pride keeps
you from the pawn shop and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own home
Humanity I love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it's there and sitting down
on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity
i hate you
e e cummings
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Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.
Posts: 20761 | From: where the purple line ends | Registered: Dec 2002
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North East Quine
Curious beastie
# 13049
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Posted
Mair nonsense has been uttered in his name
Than in ony's barrin liberty and Christ.
If this keeps spreedin as the drink declines.
Syne turns to tea, wae's me for the Zeitgeist!
Hugh McDiarmid's A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle
(Claim to fame - I've shaken hands with someone who shook hands with McDiarmid!)
Posts: 6414 | From: North East Scotland | Registered: Oct 2007
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Ariel
Shipmate
# 58
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Posted
Deep meadows yet, for to forget
The lies, and truths, and pain?… oh! yet
Stands the Church clock at ten to three?
And is there honey still for tea?
Rupert Brooke's The Old Vicarage, Grantchester
Posts: 25445 | Registered: May 2001
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
What youthful mother, a shape upon her lap
Honey of generation had betrayed,
And that must sleep, shriek, struggle to escape
As recollection or the drug decide,
Would think her Son, did she but see that shape
With sixty or more winters on its head,
A compensation for the pang of his birth,
Or the uncertainty of his setting forth?
WB Yeats Among Schoolchildren
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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Ariel
Shipmate
# 58
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Posted
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape
Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and
He bid me taste of it; and 'twas - the Grape!
Omar Khayyam's Rubaiyat.
[ 13. August 2014, 11:40: Message edited by: Ariel ]
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North East Quine
Curious beastie
# 13049
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Posted
Lord, the light of your love is shining
Sorry, that's a song... ![[Two face]](graemlins/scot_twoface.gif)
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try.
Christina Rossetti's Goblin Market
Posts: 6414 | From: North East Scotland | Registered: Oct 2007
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Baptist Trainfan
Shipmate
# 15128
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Posted
But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance:
They howl and writhe in shoals of torment, in fierce flames consuming,
In chains of iron and in dungeons circled with ceaseless fires,
In pits and dens and shades of death, in shapes of torment and woe.
William Blake - I thought I'd cheer you all up.
Posts: 9750 | From: The other side of the Severn | Registered: Sep 2009
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Ariel
Shipmate
# 58
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Posted
They will trample our gardens to mire, they will bury our city in fire;
Our women await their desire, our children the clang of the chain.
Our grave-eyed judges and lords they will bind by the neck with cords,
And harry with whips and swords till they perish of shame or pain,
And the great lapis lazuli dome where the gods of our race had a home
Will break like a wave from the foam, and shred into fiery rain.
Flecker's Pillage.
Posts: 25445 | Registered: May 2001
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.
Wm Shakespeare Twelth Night.
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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Ariel
Shipmate
# 58
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Posted
O western wind, when wilt thou blow
That the small rain down can rain?
Christ, that my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again!
Anon, 1500s. I first saw this in a Tube carriage, as one of the "Poems on the Underground."
[ 13. August 2014, 13:10: Message edited by: Ariel ]
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
So when the Sun in bed,
Curtain'd with cloudy red,
Pillows his chin upon an Orient wave.
The flocking shadows pale
Troop to th' infernall jail,
Each fetter'd Ghost slips to his severall grave,
And the yellow-skirted Fayes
Fly after the Night-steeds, leaving their Moon-lov'd maze.
Milton
Nativity Ode
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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jacobsen
seeker
# 14998
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Posted
Sunset and evening star
And one clear call for me!
And may the be no moaning of the bar
When I put out to sea.
Alfred Lord Tennyson Crossing the bar
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But God, holding a candle, looks for all who wander, all who search. - Shifra Alon
Beauty fades, dumb is forever-Judge Judy
The man who made time, made plenty.
Posts: 8040 | From: Æbleskiver country | Registered: Aug 2009
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Penny S
Shipmate
# 14768
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Posted
Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western star s, until I die.
Ulysses Alfred Lord Tennyson
Seems to be a repeating imagery. Him and Tolkien.
Posts: 5833 | Registered: May 2009
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Cottontail
Shipmate
# 12234
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Posted
And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes –
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands –
There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.
Louis McNeice,
Snow
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"I don't think you ought to read so much theology," said Lord Peter. "It has a brutalizing influence."
Posts: 2377 | From: Scotland | Registered: Jan 2007
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
Could you hurt me, sweet lips, though I hurt you?
Men touch them, and change in a trice
The lilies and languours of virtue
For the raptures and roses of vice;
Swinburne Dolores
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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Mamacita
Lakefront liberal
# 3659
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Posted
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
W. B. Yeats, The Song of Wandering Aengus
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Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.
Posts: 20761 | From: where the purple line ends | Registered: Dec 2002
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jacobsen
seeker
# 14998
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Posted
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney sweepers, come to dust.
Shakespeare - Cymberline
[ETA Link, DT, VW Host]
[ 15. August 2014, 09:01: Message edited by: Doublethink ]
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But God, holding a candle, looks for all who wander, all who search. - Shifra Alon
Beauty fades, dumb is forever-Judge Judy
The man who made time, made plenty.
Posts: 8040 | From: Æbleskiver country | Registered: Aug 2009
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
"What of vile dust?" The preacher said.
Methought the whole world woke.
The dead stone lived beneath my foot,
And my whole body spoke.
GK Chesterton In Praise of Dust
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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Doublethink.
Ship's Foolwise Unperson
# 1984
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Posted
Please remember to provide links.
Doublethink
Verseworks Host
[ 15. August 2014, 09:02: Message edited by: Doublethink ]
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All political thinking for years past has been vitiated in the same way. People can foresee the future only when it coincides with their own wishes, and the most grossly obvious facts can be ignored when they are unwelcome. George Orwell
Posts: 19219 | From: Erehwon | Registered: Aug 2005
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the famous rachel
Shipmate
# 1258
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Posted
And when they were dead,
The robins so red,
Brought strawberry leaves
And over them spread
And all the day long,
On the branches did throng,
They mournfully whistled,
And this was their song:
Poor babes in the wood!
Poor babes in the wood!
Oh! Don't you remember
Those babes in the wood?
Traditional - apparently
My son loves this poem... I'm not sure why!
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A shrivelled appendix to the body of Christ.
Posts: 912 | From: In the lab. | Registered: Aug 2001
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QLib
Bad Example
# 43
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Posted
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
...
A dog starv’d at his master’s gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
William Blake Auguries of Innocence
(I cut out the bit about a dove house 'filled with doves and pigeons' because I thought those birds were free to come and go. ![[Confused]](confused.gif) )
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Tradition is the handing down of the flame, not the worship of the ashes Gustav Mahler.
Posts: 8913 | From: Page 28 | Registered: May 2001
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
Wondrous is this wall-stead, wasted by fate.
Battlements broken, giant’s work shattered.
Roofs are in ruin, towers destroyed,
Broken the barred gate, rime on the plaster
From the Anglo-Saxon* The Ruin
*Wrætlic is þes wealstan, wyrde gebræcon;
burgstede burston, brosnað enta geweorc.
Hrofas sind gehrorene, hreorge torras,
hrungeat berofen, hrim on lime
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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jacobsen
seeker
# 14998
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Posted
Behold! a giant am I!
Aloft here in my tower,
With my granite jaws I devour
The maize, and the wheat, and the rye,
And grind them into flour.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow The Windmill
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But God, holding a candle, looks for all who wander, all who search. - Shifra Alon
Beauty fades, dumb is forever-Judge Judy
The man who made time, made plenty.
Posts: 8040 | From: Æbleskiver country | Registered: Aug 2009
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Ariel
Shipmate
# 58
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Posted
There they stood, ranged along the hill-sides, met
To view the last of me, a living frame
For one more picture! in a sheet of flame
I saw them and I knew them all. And yet
Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set,
And blew "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came."
Browning, Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.
Posts: 25445 | Registered: May 2001
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the famous rachel
Shipmate
# 1258
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Posted
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.
Sorry - more Longfellow
(and Paul Revere didn't really make the famous ride, apparently).
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A shrivelled appendix to the body of Christ.
Posts: 912 | From: In the lab. | Registered: Aug 2001
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Mamacita
Lakefront liberal
# 3659
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Posted
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
[Sorry, change of tense.]
Tennyson, Charge of the Light Brigade
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Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.
Posts: 20761 | From: where the purple line ends | Registered: Dec 2002
| IP: Logged
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
John Donne
Holy Sonnets
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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