Source: (consider it)
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Thread: Poetic association game
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the famous rachel
Shipmate
# 1258
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Posted
What means this metal in windy belfries hung When guns are all our need? Dissolve these bells Whose tones are tuned for peace: with martial tongue Let them cry doom and storm the sun with shells.
Siegfried Sassoon
-------------------- A shrivelled appendix to the body of Christ.
Posts: 912 | From: In the lab. | Registered: Aug 2001
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Cottontail
Shipmate
# 12234
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Posted
We are they who come faster than fate: we are they who ride early or late: We storm at your ivory gate: Pale Kings of the Sunset, beware! Not on silk nor in samet we lie, not in curtained solemnity die Among women who chatter and cry, and children who mumble a prayer. But we sleep by the ropes of the camp, and we rise with a shout, and we tramp With the sun or the moon for a lamp, and the spray of the wind in our hair.
James Elroy Flecker, The War Song of the Saracens
-------------------- "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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North East Quine
Curious beastie
# 13049
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Posted
Faster than fairies, faster than witches, Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches; And charging along like troops in a battle, All through the meadows the horses and cattle:
Robert Louis Stevenson From a Railway Carriage
Posts: 6414 | From: North East Scotland | Registered: Oct 2007
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
Warlocks and witches in a dance; Nae cotillion brent-new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs strathspeys, and reels, Put life and mettle in their heels. A winnock-bunker in the east, There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast; A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, To gie them music was his charge: He scre'd the pipes and gart them skirl, Till roof and rafters a' did dirl.--
Robert Burns Tam o' Shanter
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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QLib
Bad Example
# 43
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Posted
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?
Keats: Ode to a Nightingale
-------------------- 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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Penny S
Shipmate
# 14768
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Posted
By the craggy hill-side, Through the mosses bare They have planted thorn trees For pleasure here and there. Is any man so daring To dig up one in spite, He shall find the thornies set In his bed at night.
The Fairy Folk William Allingham
Posts: 5833 | Registered: May 2009
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the famous rachel
Shipmate
# 1258
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Posted
Where are you going to, little brown mouse? Come and have tea in my treetop house. It's frightfully nice of you owl, but no - I'm going to have tea with a gruffalo
Julia Dondaldson
OK - a bit of a stretch, but I've been trying to get the Gruffalo in for ages!
-------------------- A shrivelled appendix to the body of Christ.
Posts: 912 | From: In the lab. | Registered: Aug 2001
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea In a beautiful pea green boat, They took some honey, and plenty of money, Wrapped up in a five pound note.
Edward Lear The Owl and the Pussycat
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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jacobsen
seeker
# 14998
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Posted
Deep in the sunsearched growths the dragon-fly Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky: - So this winged hour is dropt to us from above. Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower, This close-companioned inarticulate hour When twofold silence was the song of love.
Silent Noon by Christina Rossetti
-------------------- 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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Jamat
Shipmate
# 11621
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Posted
Who is the third who walks always beside you When I count there are only you and I together But when I look ahead up the white road There is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman But who is that on the other side of you?
What is that sound high in the air Murmur of material lamentation Who are those hooded hordes swarming Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth Ringed by the flat horizon only What is the city over the mountains Cracks and reforms and bursts in the Violet air
The Waste Land T S Eliot
Posts: 3228 | From: New Zealand | Registered: Jul 2006
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QLib
Bad Example
# 43
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Posted
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . . Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
Owen: Dulce et Decorum est
-------------------- 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
Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.
Shakespeare Macbeth
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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Penny S
Shipmate
# 14768
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Posted
"Madam, you see before you stand, Heigh-ho! never be still! The Old Original Favourite Grand Grasshopper's Green Herbarian Band, And the tune we play is Rilloby-rilloby, Madam, the tune is Rilloby-rill."
Henry Newbolt, away from the Empire. Rilloby-Rill
Posts: 5833 | Registered: May 2009
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QLib
Bad Example
# 43
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Posted
When the mob came and got her and dragged her from the jail, madam They strung her upon the old willow across the way And the moment before she died She lifted up her lovely head and cried, madam Miss Otis regrets she's unable to lunch today
Cole Porter: Miss Otis Regrets
I'm not apologising for the fact that this is technically a lyric: 'tis poetic IMHO.
-------------------- 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
Now I feel just as sure as I'm sure that my name Isn't Willow, titwillow, titwillow That 'twas blighted affection that made him exclaim "Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow" And if you remain callous and obdurate, I Shall perish as he did, and you will know why Though I probably shall not exclaim as I die "Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow"
W S Gilbert The Mikado
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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Doublethink.
Ship's Foolwise Unperson
# 1984
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Posted
The poor soul sat singing by a sycamore tree. Sing all a green willow: Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, Sing willow, willow, willow: The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans; Sing willow, willow, willow; Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;
Shakespeare: Otello
(Crosspost) [ 18. August 2014, 21:02: Message edited by: Doublethink ]
-------------------- 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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Doublethink.
Ship's Foolwise Unperson
# 1984
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Posted
The clear-eyed, callous stars look down On darkened field and lighted town, Slow moving through unmeasured space, Or set in their appointed place,
The Callous Stars, Dylan Thomas
-------------------- 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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Jamat
Shipmate
# 11621
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Posted
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
She walks in Beauty Byron
-------------------- 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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Cottontail
Shipmate
# 12234
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Posted
Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I’ll not look for wine.
Ben Jonson, Song: To Celia
-------------------- "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
And is it true ? For if it is, No loving fingers tying strings Around those tissued fripperies, The sweet and silly Christmas things, Bath salts and inexpensive scent And hideous tie so kindly meant,
No love that in a family dwells, No carolling in frosty air, Nor all the steeple-shaking bells Can with this single Truth compare - That God was man in Palestine And lives today in Bread and Wine.
John Betjeman 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
Oranges and lemons, Say the bells of St. Clement's.
You owe me five farthings, Say the bells of St. Martin's.
When will you pay me? Say the bells of Old Bailey.
Anon Oranges and Lemons
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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Baptist Trainfan
Shipmate
# 15128
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Posted
On Martinmas eve the dogs did bark, And I opened the window to see, When every maiden went by with her spark But neer a one came to me. And O dear what will become of me? And O dear what shall I do, When nobody whispers to marry me-- Nobody cometh to woo?
John Clare.
Posts: 9750 | From: The other side of the Severn | Registered: Sep 2009
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Albertus
Shipmate
# 13356
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Posted
Vital spark of heavenly flame, Quit, O quit this mortal frame! Trembling, hoping, lingering flying, O the pain, the bliss of dying! Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life.
Alexander Pope
Posts: 6498 | From: Y Sowth | Registered: Jan 2008
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QLib
Bad Example
# 43
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Posted
With trembling fingers did we weave The holly round the Christmas hearth; A rainy cloud possess'd the earth, And sadly fell our Christmas-eve.
Tennyson: In Memoriam XXX [ 19. August 2014, 12:27: Message edited by: QLib ]
-------------------- 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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Albertus
Shipmate
# 13356
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Posted
Jenny made her mind up when she was three She herself was going to trim the Christmas tree Christmas Eve she lit the candles, tossed the tapers away Little Jenny was an orphan on Christmas day
Ira Gershwin
Posts: 6498 | From: Y Sowth | Registered: Jan 2008
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jacobsen
seeker
# 14998
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Posted
Jenny kissed me when we met, Jumping from the chair she sat in; Time, you thief, who love to get Sweets into your list, put that in! Say I'm weary, say I'm sad, Say that health and wealth have missed me, Say I'm growing old, but add, Jenny kissed me.
Leigh Hunt
-------------------- 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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North East Quine
Curious beastie
# 13049
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Posted
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley, Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation; With a running stream and a water mill beating the darkness, And three trees on the low sky.
T.S. Eliot - Journey of the Magi
Posts: 6414 | From: North East Scotland | Registered: Oct 2007
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QLib
Bad Example
# 43
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Posted
Ice in the trees. Three Queens at the Palace gates, dressed in furs, accented; their several sweating panting beasts, laden for a long, hard trek.
Carol Ann Duffy: Queen Herod (Sorry, no link)
-------------------- 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
"Yet Cloe sure was form'd without a spot--- Nature in her then err'd not, but forgot. "With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part, "Say, what can Cloe want?---she wants a Heart. She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought; But never, never, reach'd one gen'rous Thought. Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour, Content to dwell in Decencies for ever. So very reasonable, so unmov'd, As never yet to love, or to be lov'd. She, while her Lover pants upon her breast, Can mark the figures on an Indian chest; And when she sees her Friend in deep despair, Observes how much a Chintz exceeds Mohair.
Alexander Pope Epistle to a Lady
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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Cottontail
Shipmate
# 12234
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Posted
Such stuff Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough For calling up that spot of joy. She had A heart—how shall I say?— too soon made glad, Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Robert Browning, My Last Duchess
-------------------- "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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Albertus
Shipmate
# 13356
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Posted
Cancer has killed him. Heart is killing her. The trees are down. An Odeon flashes fire Where stood their villa by the murmuring fir When ” they would for their children’s good conspire. ” Of their loves and hopes on hurrying feet Thou art the worn memorial, Baker Street. John Betjeman, Baker Street Station Buffet
Posts: 6498 | From: Y Sowth | Registered: Jan 2008
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
From Brig o' Dread when thou may'st pass, To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last; If ever thou gavest meat or drink, The fire sall never make thee shrink; If meat or drink thou ne'er gav'st nane, The fire will burn thee to the bare bane;
Anon Lyke Wake Dirge
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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QLib
Bad Example
# 43
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Posted
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, We could nor laugh nor wail; Through utter drought all dumb we stood! I bit my arm, I suck'd the blood, And cried, A sail! a sail!
Coleridge: Rime of the Ancient Mariner
-------------------- 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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Curiosity killed ...
Ship's Mug
# 11770
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Posted
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by; And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking, And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking,
Sea Fever John Masefield
-------------------- Mugs - Keep the Ship afloat
Posts: 13794 | From: outiside the outer ring road | Registered: Aug 2006
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
WB Yeats When you are old
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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the famous rachel
Shipmate
# 1258
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Posted
Once more the maiden's eyelid flickers. She draws the pistol from her knickers. Once more she hits the vital spot, And kills him with a single shot.
Roald Dahl [ 23. August 2014, 19:23: Message edited by: the famous rachel ]
-------------------- 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
I syng of a mayden Þat is makeles, kyng of alle kynges to here sone che ches Anon
Translation: I sing of a maiden That is matchless, King of all kings For her son she chose.
-------------------- 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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Cottontail
Shipmate
# 12234
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Posted
"O where ha you been, Lord Randal, my son? And where ha you been, my handsome young man?” “I ha been at the greenwood; mother, mak my bed soon, For I’m wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie down."
Anonymous, Lord Randall
-------------------- "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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Jamat
Shipmate
# 11621
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Posted
On my Bed night after night I sought him Whom my soul loves; I sought him but did not find him. 'I must arise now and go about the city; In the streets and in the squares I must seek him whom my soul loves.' I sought him but did not find him.
Song of Songs 3:1,2(NASB)
Posts: 3228 | From: New Zealand | Registered: Jul 2006
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Mamacita
Lakefront liberal
# 3659
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Posted
with the animals dying around us our lost feelings we are saying thank you with the forests falling faster than the minutes of our lives we are saying thank you with the words going out like cells of a brain with the cities growing over us like the earth we are saying thank you faster and faster with nobody listening we are saying thank you we are saying thank you and waving dark though it is
W. S Merwin, Thanks
-------------------- 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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Baptist Trainfan
Shipmate
# 15128
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Posted
Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning.
Stevie Smith. [ 24. August 2014, 07:33: Message edited by: Baptist Trainfan ]
Posts: 9750 | From: The other side of the Severn | Registered: Sep 2009
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Cottontail
Shipmate
# 12234
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Posted
But the swagman, he up and he jumped in the water-hole, Drowning himself by the Coolabah tree; And his ghost may be heard as it sings in the Billabong, "Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?"
Andrew Barton, Waltzing Matilda
-------------------- "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
Matilda told such Dreadful Lies, It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes; Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth, Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth, Attempted to Believe Matilda: The effort very nearly killed her,
Hilaire Belloc Matilda
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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jacobsen
seeker
# 14998
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Posted
To the heart of youth the world is a highwayside. Passing for ever, he fares; and on either hand, Deep in the gardens golden pavilions hide, Nestle in orchard bloom, and far on the level land Call him with lighted lamp in the eventide.
Robert Louis Stevenson [ 24. August 2014, 13:34: Message edited by: jacobsen ]
-------------------- 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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QLib
Bad Example
# 43
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Posted
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
Coleridge: Kubla Khan
-------------------- 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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Curiosity killed ...
Ship's Mug
# 11770
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Posted
The bed we loved in was a spinning world of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas where we would dive for pearls. My lover's words were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme to his, now echo, assonance; his touch a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.
Anne Hathaway - Carol Duffy
-------------------- Mugs - Keep the Ship afloat
Posts: 13794 | From: outiside the outer ring road | Registered: Aug 2006
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Firenze
Ordinary decent pagan
# 619
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Posted
The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Tennyson The Princess
Posts: 17302 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Jun 2001
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Curiosity killed ...
Ship's Mug
# 11770
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Posted
Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There’s none of these so lonely and poor of old, But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. These laid the world away; poured out the red Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene, That men call age; and those who would have been, Their sons, they gave, their immortality.
The Dead, Rupert Brooke
-------------------- Mugs - Keep the Ship afloat
Posts: 13794 | From: outiside the outer ring road | Registered: Aug 2006
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