Granny says "Applauds all of you" this is awesome and I love to write and read poetry...and writings that come so far within us...love it!!Its like the gift of music when you play, its the gift of all in us we have to say....let us say and we will all feel and enjoy! (Clap!) (Clap!) to all...so glad to find here also:) Granny Wombat!

Some would say that made her WISE!! ROFL

But we were all quite young, at 16/17 who really knew??

Well,,,I don't mean to be rude,,, but doesn't that make her an idiot???

Don't think she ever thought so GrassHopperSD LOL

Argon,,,What a lucky lady.....To have someone to write such beautiful things about her... ;)

deep Harley, deep!! :o)

But really good!!

Mirror, Mirror


A young spring-tender girl
combed her joyous hair
'You are very ugly' said the mirror.
But,
on her lips hung
a smile of dove-secret loveliness,
for only that morning had not
the blind boy said,
'You are beautiful'?

Spike Milligan

Television


The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rate and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

Roald Dahl

A thousand times better than anything I ever wrote in college. Or since. LOL Very good! :o)

I used to wonder where the stars came from,
until the day I met you.
Now they just fade into the background
as you fill up my view.

Now I’ve no need for wishes
for you are 'The' dream come true,
a person of such beauty,
an example of what two loving people can do.

And so, if you catch me smiling
It's because I was thinking of you,
wondering if maybe you had fallen
straight from those stars, all my fears to undo.

I used to think I’d been in love
until the day I met you.
Now I see I never knew
the depths which true-love runs through.

So I have no need for promises
there's nothing more I can do,
it really isn’t a question at all
for I can’t help but love you true…

And so, if you catch me smiling
It's because I was thinking of you.

- Darren J. Kelly 1991
- English Literature Coursework

Thanks Fencer

Very good Wanda!! Had this been a tournament you would surely have won!! :o)

For, being an idle boy lang syne,
Who read Anacreon, and drank wine,
I early found Aneacreon rhymes
Were almost passionate sometimes_
And by strange alchemy of brain
His pleasures always turn'd to pain_
His naivete to wild desire_
His wit to love_his wine to fire_
And so, being young and dipt in folly
I fell in love with MELANCHOLY,
And used to throw my earthly rest
And quiet all away in jest_

:o) To be cont......

Succeeding years, too wild for song,
Then roll'd like tropic storms along,
Where, tho'the garish lights that fly
Dying along the troubled sky,
Lay bare, tho'vistas thunder-riven,
The blackness of the general Heaven,
That very blackness yet doth fling
Light on the lightning's silver wing.

To be cont.....

Wow, that was wonderful Wanda :)

Told you Wanda was the best. :o)

Wow Wanda, that is so cool.

Romance, who loves to nod and sing.
With drowsy head and folded wing.
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been_ a most familiar bird_
Taught me my alphabet to say_
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wildwood I did lie
A child_with a most knowing eye.

To be cont.......

It was the Usurper one but that is also good harley. Will print it.

Do you mean this one, Chief? I've not heard of one called The Vampire....

The Conqueror Worm

Lo! 'tis a gala night
Withen the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedlight
In veils, drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.


Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly;
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things,
Flapping out their condor wings
Invisible Woe!


That motley drama! - oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot;
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horrow, the soul of the plot!


But see, amid the mimis rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes! - it writhes! - with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And the seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.


Out - out are all the lights - out all!
And over each quievering form,
The curtain a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm -
And the angels, all pallid and wan
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, 'Man,'
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

Edgar Allen Poe

You must mean this! (none better) :o)

THE VAMPIRE
by Rudyard Kipling

A fool there was and he made his prayer
(Even as you and I!)
To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair
(We called her the woman who did not care),
But the fool he called her his lady fair
(Even as you and I!)

Oh the years we waste and the tears we waste
And the work of our head and hand,
Belong to the woman who did not know
(And now we know that she never could know)
And did not understand.

A fool there was and his goods he spent
(Even as you and I!)
Honor and faith and a sure intent
But a fool must follow his natural bent
(And it wasn't the least what the lady meant),
(Even as you and I!)

Oh the toil we lost and the spoil we lost
And the excellent things we planned,
Belong to the woman who didn't know why
(And now we know she never knew why)
And did not understand.

The fool we stripped to his foolish hide
(Even as you and I!)
Which she might have seen when she threw him aside --
(But it isn't on record the lady tried)
So some of him lived but the most of him died --
(Even as you and I!)

And it isn't the shame and it isn't the blame
That stings like a white hot brand.
It's coming to know that she never knew why
(Seeing at last she could never know why)
And never could understand.

Dont have it in front of me but it's my Poe favorite.

Best rhyme ever written (open to argument, of course). I used to have it memorized but brain-muscles haven't been exercised of late. Thanks! :o)

good inspirations make it kinda easy for me ... ~*~

THE RAVEN.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door --
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; -- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow -- sorrow for the lost Lenore --
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore --
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me -- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door --
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door; --
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you " -- here I opened wide the door; ----
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" --
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon I heard again a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore --
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door --
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door --
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore --
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning -- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door --
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered -- not a feather then he fluttered --
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before --
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore --
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never -- nevermore."

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplght gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite -- respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! -- prophet still, if bird or devil! --
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted --
On this home by Horror haunted -- tell me truly, I implore --
Is there -- is there balm in Gilead? -- tell me -- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil -- prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us -- by that God we both adore --
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore --
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting --
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted -- nevermore!

Edgar Allen Poe (taken from eapoe.org)

These are your originals, Daniel? Very impressive. :o)

Now THAT is awesome! (Rumi's "I am a sculptor")

I'll never gonna back down
From this (good old)
Rhythm that we're weaving on the wire,
Take two hearts
Make them linked beating higher ...
Than they
Lonely ever could ...

I've never cared of any else's business
Never liked to share an open dream ...
Where everybody tends to thinning widely,
I'm working - on the seam ...

Listening to your thoughts about the future
Pointing far through every window's frame
Waiting for the silver moon arising,
Far eyes are watching - just the same ...

We'll never back down
(Again) From this
Rhythm picking locks of the future
Every feeling an attempt of mother nature,
For any tribe, the root ...

~*~ Daniel II 2001 for Cathy ~*~

I am a sculptor, a molder of form.

In every moment I shape an idol.

But then, in front of you, I melt them down

I can rouse a hundred forms

and fill them with spirit,

but when I look into your face,

I want to throw them in the fire.

My souls spills into yours and is blended.

Because my soul has absorbed your fragrance,

I cherish it.

Every drop of blood I spill

informs the earth,

I merge with my Beloved

when I participate in love.

In this house of mud and water,

my heart has fallen to ruins.

Enter this house, my Love, or let me leave.

- Rumi

The garden of
Love
is green without
limit
and yields many
fruits
other than sorrow
and joy.
Love is beyond either
condition:
without spring,
without autumn,
it is always fresh.
-- Jelaluddin Rumi

"One went to the door of the Beloved and
knocked. A voice asked, 'Who is there?'
He answered, 'It is I.'
The voice said, 'There is no room for Me and Thee.'
The door was shut.

After a year of solitude and deprivation he returned and knocked.
A voice from within asked, 'Who is there?'
The man said, 'It is Thee.'
The door was opened for him."



-- Jelaluddin Rumi

Ode to a Data Base.....

"Here we have a data base,,,
that erases all the moves we make...
We try again, again, & again,,
& then we Win again, & Again..."
(My attempt at poetry......) :)

I'm looking at the boxes my books are in.... do you have any idea how many BOXES there are, never mind books!!! *sigh* I guess they need doing though... here goes...!!!!

Unpack your books. We need poems and I personally need Poe! lol :o)

Really? I never knew that! You learn somethig new every day! I might post a few of his, I love his poems. I need to get my books unpacked, I have loads of poetry books I could dip into and post here, well known and lesser known poets.

That's high praise, harley. Poe is not only Master Poet but a Checkers lover! lol (really). TY :o)

To think that a person was writing like this in the year 1260?? Have a read, this is by far my favorite poet. Jelaluddin Rumi :0)

Spring Giddiness

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don't open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.



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


The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep.



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


I would love to kiss you.
The price of kissing is your life.
Now my loving is running toward my life shouting,
What a bargain, let's buy it.



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


Daylight, full of small dancing particles
and the one great turning, our souls
are dancing with you, without feet, they dance.
Can you see them when I whisper in your ear?



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


All day and night, music,
a quiet, bright
reedsong. If it
fades, we fade.

Usurper, Edgar Allen Poe comes to mind.... excellent! And Aragons response... well you've managed to shock me, hun!! Nice one!

Astonishingly good. Wow! :o)

Well I really liked it!! Dark or not ;o)

And in response: Stranded? Ney, be found!!

I say to thee,
You are so full of misery--
Can't you be happy?
I challenge thee
To write poetry
That is happiness.


This is a happy poem
It is the foam
Upon the crested waves
Before they cave
Unfurling themselves upon the sand
In their assault upon the land

It is the taste on your lips
After a lovers first kiss,
A phonecall from your bro or sis
that could easily have been missed

It is the baby girl and boy
Endowed with life and with joy
Who does not yet know
What growing up will bestow

This happy poem celebrates
The joy of love and life
Without regard for pain or strife
Therefore, it rates
As optimism
Discharges pessimism
And praises all that's good and right
By day, whatever it may turn to by night.

...this 'thing', scribbled impulsively this morning in the wee hours and posted hastily on an inappropriate DB, nevertheless served as the catalyst (through Fencer's good grace) which precipitated our new creative outlet here. Which means perhaps it was worth something after all. lol

I heartily encourage the posting of original works, whether from the rank novice, the polished professional or the non-serious amateur. Who knows what posterity will say! Let's have fun.

STRANDED
by yours truly

Stranded in this Universe
Could be better, but how worse?
Why did mother give me nurse?
Such a curse, such a curse

Stranded on this desert Earth
Wretched, foul, untimely birth!
Where’s the laughter, where’s the mirth?
Worthless sham, for what it’s worth

Stranded in this withered Land
Damn the rainbow, damn the Hand
That first helped this bleak soul to stand
First undone and then un-manned

Stranded on this strangled Shore
Neptune gloats, then shrieks for more
How I abhor, o how abhor
This sunken world with no back-door

Stranded in this barren Home
Read the transcript, scan the tome!
Wherein the shameless gods do roam
And spit their drool like febrile foam

Stranded in this hell of Hells
Curse the split-tongued wedding-bells!
Curse the rivers, curse the dells
And bless the caverns, bless the wells

Stranded in this darkling Space
Where to find a human face
In this ill-begotten Race?
Full of mischief, void of grace

Stranded on this wasted Waste
Made in haste, yes made in haste!
How I pine for just a taste
Of something sacred, someone chaste

Stranded in this tortured Mind
Hoping, ‘gainst all hope, to find
Just one cloud that’s silver-lined
Just one touch not cruel but kind

Stranded in this woeful Fate
Unquenched hunger is my Mate
Sick of smiles that come too late
Sick of ‘kindness’ laced with hate

Stranded in this lifeless Life
I raise the blade, I clutch the knife
For all’s against me, all is strife
And Pain’s my sister, Death my wife

Stranded on this gulf Alone
It chills the marrow in the bone
How can God in truth atone
For every slight and every groan?


P.S. I'm not ALWAYS this dark! (gulp)

P.P.S. Oh yes, discerning critics welcome too! (but I beg of you, have mercy....) :o)

Aragon: That's it :-) It is definitely the best one of Gabriel Knight series.

Awesome. I didn't know. :o)

LOL - No, I wish I could write like that!!

Author unknown, it is said to have been written by J.R.R Tolkien as an epilogue to the classic LOTR

Appeared in an orginal copy of the book, in his handwriting??

Is this yours Aragon? I love the whole Middle-Earth scenario. Terrific poem!

Here's a personal request, which any and all are free to ignore: I'm sure folks would love to know who the author is when the poems are posted, if available. Especially original works! But...I reiterate...each must choose. :o)

Fencer: Is that Blood of the sacred, blood of the damned?? Ain't seen that one yet! Must hunt for it :o)

And they say people that play games all day have no culture LOL

Bilbos Last Song........

Day is ended,
dim my eyes,
but journey long
before me lies.

Farewell, friends!
I hear the call.
The ship's beside
the stony wall.

Foam is white
and waves are grey;
beyonf the sunset
leads my way.

Foam is salt,
the wind is free;
I hear the rising
of the Sea.

Farewell, friends!
The sails are set,
the wind is east,
the moorings fret.

Shadows long
before me lie,
beneath the
ever-bending sky.

But islands lie
behind the sun
that I shall raise
ere all is done.

Lands there are
to west of West,
where night is quiet
and sleep is rest.

Guided by the
Lonely Star,
beyond the utmost
harbour-bar.

I'll find the havens
fair and free,
and beaches of
the Starlit Sea.

Ship, my ship!
I seek the west,
and fields
and mountains
ever blest.

Farewell to
Middle-earth at last,
I see the Star
above your mast!

Aragon: My favourite game. But GK 3 is much better :-)

Sins of the Fathers is a great one Fencer, Haven't read it in ages. quite Stiring :o)

Thanks to Fencer we have an instant success here. Not only does he generously create the DB but he then presents work of sterling quality. Not only Fencer but harley and danoschek have masterful early entries. This is awesome. Thanks one and all! :o)