An outlet for players whose creativity extends beyond the board. Post your original works here!
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We have received word from Fencer that other's poetry can be posted to this board. These are the two conditions: 1) When someone posts a known copyrighted poem, he must add the author's name as well 2) If the author is not known, the poem can be posted without problems
Vestlusringide loetelu
Sa ei tohi sellesse vestlusringi kirjutada. Madalaim lubatud liikmelisustase sellesse vestlusringi kirjutamiseks on Ajuratsu.
Weaver of life, let me look and see
The pattern of my life gone by,
Shown on your tapestry.
Just for one second, one glance upon your loom
The flower of my childhood could have fit within this room
Does it of my youth show, tears of yesterday?
Broken hearts, within a heart, as love first came my way.
Do the lifeline patterns change as I became a man
An added aura untold blend as I asked for her hand.
Did your golden needle sew it, thread virginial white
As long as we embrace as one upon our wedding night.
Did you capture all the joys the birth of our first son?
The happiness of family made a brother for the one.
The growing of the brothers, the manliness that grew
is it there in detail? Is it their to view?
Do the sparks of life grow bright as one by one they wed?
To live as fathers, husbands, apart from lives they've led.
Are my lover's threads cut off when aged she laid to rest
My sorrow blacking out a space upon thou woven crest
A gathering for the last time as her coffin slowly lain
Ash to ashes, dust to dust, one day we will regain.
Does it show, does it swipe, grandchildren on my knee
But only hearing laughter when age took my sight from me.
Lastly through these last few years of loneliness maybe
Does it by sight a shooting star fade from your tapestry.
Wait there in the distance, over your loom I think I see
Could it be that after all my prayers you've answered me?
After days of wondering I see the reason why.
You kept it to this minute, for I'm about to die.
Weaver of life,
At last now I can see
The patterns of my life gone by, shown on your tapestry.
Every dragon 'round these parts
Breathes a breath of flame.
But I can't even blow a spark
Which brings me grief and shame.
The other dragons often tease.
They jeer and sneer and shout
Cos every time I take a breath
I'm breathing hot dogs out.
Hot dogs when I blow my nose.
Hot dogs when I snore.
Hot dogs when I go achoo.
Hot dogs when I roar.
I lived a life of misery,
Agony, and woe,
Until I met a boy dragon.
Our friendship seemed to grow.
I said to him one starry night,
"I love you dear the most."
We sighed a gentle sigh together
And had a hot dog roast.
My response to this has been delayed because nothing I say can do it justice. This is about Being, a collaboration of the soul and the earth. More than collaboration, it is re-union, a foretaste of heaven. This is true peace. You are marvelous, Radiant. :o)
Upon your creation, God broke the mould
a beautiful vision to behold.
The envy of both Kings and Queens
for a beauty so fair they would risk many things.
Beauty so fair cannot be duplicated
though many have tried they have as yet to make it.
You enter a room and men fight for a try
to have one so lovely stand by their side.
But the beauty that I find I cannot deny
is the beautiful heart that is kept deep inside.
It's the beautiful heart of the fairest of Queens
a beauty reserved just for fairy tale dreams.
When I look in your eyes I see love that's so true
it outweighs all physical beauty seen in you.
You see, true beauty is not found in magazines
it cannot be whipped up with make-ups and creams.
True beauty's a blessing, a gift from above
and can only be seen through the kind eyes of love.
And my vow to you now so the whole world can see
is to treat you with the same love you show to me.
Love so strong it weakens the strongest of men
I feel my love for you growing again and again.
If I have but one wish to wish before I die
it will be to forever have you at my side.…
Aragon,Cariad,danoshek, what can I say...all is beautiful...so very moving....so deep in me I feel..thanks for all of them thanks...Granny and
Current River I miss you...but know you have a busy time now..(smile) thanks to all of you that put things here to read, and to get into it...thanks!!!!Granny as you can see I am so moved today by them...
The Irish song, 'A Nation Once Again' by Thomas Osbourne Davis was the inspiration for the following:
Yn fachgen brwd a ’ngwaed ar dân,
Darllenais hanes cywrain
Tri chant a thri o arwyr glân
Fu’n gwarchod Groeg a Rhufain;
Ac yna rhoddais weddi daer
Cawn eto weld y dydd
Y chwalem furiau’r estron gaer
A dod yn Gymru rydd.
Daw Cymru’n Gymru Rydd
Daw Cymru’n Gymru Rydd
’Rôl byw yn hir dan estron gaer
Daw Cymru’n Gymru Rydd
Mor ddisglair drwy’r holl ddyddiau blin
Fu’r gobaith pell am ryddid,
Na allai serch a’i decaf rhin
Ragori ar ei lendid;
Fy ngwylio wnâi mewn llys a llan
Ac yn y maes liw dydd,
Pan gysgwn, canai ’gylch y fan ’
Daw Cymru’n Gymru rydd!
Ond nod aruchel, sanctaidd, hardd
Yw gwasanaethu rhyddid;
A gallai nwyd o isel radd
Amharu ar ei lendid;
Daw rhyddid o ddeheulaw Duw
A’i sail a’ sêl yw’r ffydd,
Drwy Gymry da caiff Cymru fyw
A dod yn Gymru rydd.
Fy unig sêl wrth ddod i oed
Oedd brwydro dros ei rhyddid,
A meithrin ysbryd, yn ddioed
Sy’n rhydd o bob aflendid;
Drwy fyw’n lân gobeithio’n wir
Caf godi ’ngwlad ryw dydd -
Nid ofer dweud, rôl caethglud hir
Bydd Cymru’n Gymru rydd!
I may not know how well it was translated, I do remember the competition though!! And the song! Is inspirational (in any language!!)
When boyhood’s fire was in my blood
I read of ancient freemen,
For Greece and Rome who bravely stood,
Three hundred men and three men;
And then I prayed I yet might see
Our fetters rent in twain,
And Cymru, long a province, be.
A Nation once again!
A Nation once again,
A Nation once again,
And Cymru, long a province, be
A Nation once again!
And from that time, through wildest woe,
That hope has shone a far light,
Nor could love’s brightest summer glow
Outshine that solemn starlight;
It seemed to watch above my head
In forum, field and fane,
Its angel voice sang round my bed,
A Nation once again!
It whisper’d too, that freedom’s ark
And service high and holy,
Would be profaned by feelings dark
And passions vain or lowly;
For, Freedom comes from God’s right hand,
And needs a Godly train;
And righteous men must make our land
A Nation once again!
So, as I grew from boy to man,
I bent me to that bidding
My spirit of each selfish plan
And cruel passion ridding;
For, thus I hoped some day to aid,
Oh, can such hope be vain?
When my dear country shall be made
A Nation once again!
English translation of this Breton poem, written by Alan Stivell
Ensemble (Understand)
The heart of another can be felt by all
Deep down, all men are alike
To know the source of man´s heart is unchanging
Makes the exchange of idea´s possible
We must understand what others are really saying
We don´t always hear what they tell us
Eventually, we´ll have to get on, and live together
While each remains himself, so goes life
Indistincly, we hear what we want to believe in another´s words
Each time we remain deaf to this, evil sprouts among us
We can´t stay indifferent when injustice brings havoc
We must awaken consciousness both inner and outer.
Eventually we´ll have to get on, and live together
While each remains himself, so goes Life.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round :
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.
But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover !
A savage place ! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover !
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced :
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail :
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean :
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war !
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves ;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice !
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw :
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome ! those caves of ice !
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
You may talk o' gin and beer
When you're quartered safe out 'ere,
An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;
But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water,
An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
Now in Injia's sunny clime,
Where I used to spend my time
A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,
Of all them blackfaced crew
The finest man I knew
Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
He was "Din! Din! Din!
You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!
Hi! slippery ~hitherao~!
Water, get it! ~Panee lao~! [Bring water swiftly.]
You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din."
The uniform 'e wore
Was nothin' much before,
An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind,
For a piece o' twisty rag
An' a goatskin water-bag
Was all the field-equipment 'e could find.
When the sweatin' troop-train lay
In a sidin' through the day,
Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl,
We shouted "Harry By!" [Mr. Atkins's equivalent for "O brother."]
Till our throats were bricky-dry,
Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.
It was "Din! Din! Din!
You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been?
You put some ~juldee~ in it [Be quick.]
Or I'll ~marrow~ you this minute [Hit you.]
If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"
'E would dot an' carry one
Till the longest day was done;
An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear.
If we charged or broke or cut,
You could bet your bloomin' nut,
'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear.
With 'is ~mussick~ on 'is back, [Water-skin.]
'E would skip with our attack,
An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire",
An' for all 'is dirty 'ide
'E was white, clear white, inside
When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire!
It was "Din! Din! Din!"
With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green.
When the cartridges ran out,
You could hear the front-files shout,
"Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!"
I shan't forgit the night
When I dropped be'ind the fight
With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.
I was chokin' mad with thirst,
An' the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.
'E lifted up my 'ead,
An' he plugged me where I bled,
An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green:
It was crawlin' and it stunk,
But of all the drinks I've drunk,
I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
It was "Din! Din! Din!
'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen;
'E's chawin' up the ground,
An' 'e's kickin' all around:
For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!"
'E carried me away
To where a dooli lay,
An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.
'E put me safe inside,
An' just before 'e died,
"I 'ope you liked your drink", sez Gunga Din.
So I'll meet 'im later on
At the place where 'e is gone --
Where it's always double drill and no canteen;
'E'll be squattin' on the coals
Givin' drink to poor damned souls,
An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
Yes, Din! Din! Din!
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
Though I've belted you and flayed you,
By the livin' Gawd that made you,
You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep and cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this, if full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
Is there, for honest poverty
That hings his head, an' a' that?
The coward slave, we pass him by
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Our toils obscure , an' a' that;
The rank is but the the guinea stamp;
The Man's the gowd for a' that!
2. What tho' on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hodden grey, an' a' that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A Man's a Man for a' that!
For a' that an' a' that,
Their tinsel show and a' that;
The honest man, though ne'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that!
3. Ye see yon birkie ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, and stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that:
For a' that an' a' that,
His riband, star, and a' that;
The Man of independent mind,
He looks an' laughs at a' that!
4. A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that;
But an honest Man's aboon his might,
Guid faith he maunna fa' that!
For a' that an' a' that,
Their dignities an' a' that,
The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
Are higher ranks than a' that.
5. Then let us pray that come it may —
As come it will for a' that —
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
May bear the gree, and a' that;
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's comin' yet for a' that
That Man to Man the warld o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that!
Yes.. it has begun..
first small drops, hesitating in touching the pavement..
there came yet no steam off the pavement, but I think the pavement must have thought:
"Hey! Whats that? What is touching me there so wet?? Long time no feel!" lol
Meanwhile..
the people took their umbrella´s out and coats, while I thought:
"Hey! Whats that? Whats touching me on my face, hair, clothes, feet so light, but wet? Whats that trying to say "hi"? Long time no feel! Lets enjoy - no umbrella for me!!"
The life that I have is all that I have
And the life that I have is yours.
The love that I have of the life that I have is yours and yours and yours.
A sleep I shall have, a rest I shall have yet death will be but a pause,
For the peace of my years in the long green grass
Will be yours and yours and yours.
The poem was written by Leo Marks (age 60)when he heard about the death of his fiancée in a plane crash in Canada. The full details are given in his very readable book "Between Silk and Cyanide".
Sorry, I was making fun with a friend then read your poem and made lil fun of it, but this is moving, when you know more of a background when and why poems are written.. how tragic.. yet: such huge L O V E - awesome..
Red Dragon (tears happy tears) thank you for the poem/song....words so lovely and my heart swells as I find more truth of love now more than ever...thanks so much....for thinking of me..I cherish this now and lilac.....thanks for the music........I love it....I love music too of course :) Man I am so glad I am still here to have met all of you ...all so unique and special to me....one on one....so special...I dream of memories and I am thinking on these new ones too...These help keep a spring in my step...!!LOLOLGranny!
Teema: Re: Thought this would fit here just right...........
That was beautiful, Anon! :-)
awwww, couldn´t have said it any better, yet trying - L:)L
cannot find any word to express it more,
and more,
the core
of friendship online;
shivers down my spine...
for this world; for others unknown
but yet words reflects for us a known
reality
like a mirror
I often think of the blind
touching others face in order to find
their soul,
their spirit
their true self
Thank You my friends for letting me be a part of your day for a while,
with either a tear or a smile,
a big laughter or a hoot;
each time its doing me good!
I've learned some things from having lived:
If you're alive, experience one thing with all your power
Your beloved should be worn out from being kissed
And you should drop exhausted from the smelling of a flower
A person can gaze at the sky for hours
Can gaze for hours at a bird, a child, the sea
To live on the earth is to become part of it
To strike down roots that won't pull free
If you cling to anything, tightly hold a friend
Fight for something with every muscle, whole body, all your passion
And if you lay yourself for a time on the warm beach
Let yourself rest like a grain of sand, a leaf, a stone
To your utmost, listen to every beautiful song
As though filling all the self with sound and melody
One should plunge head-first into life
As one dives from a cliff into the emerald sea
Distant lands should draw you, people you don't know
To read every book, know other's lives, you should be burning
You shouldn't exchange for anything the pleasure of a glass of water
No matter how much the joy, your life should be filled with yearning
You should know sorrow, honorably, with all your being
Because the pains, like joys, make a person grow
Your blood should mingle in the great circulation of life
And in your veins life's endless fresh blood should flow
I've learned some things from having lived:
If you're alive, experience largely, merge with rivers, heavens, cosmos
For what we call living is a gift given to life
And life is a gift bestowed upon us
Ataol Behramoglu
"Yasadiklarimdan Ogrendigim Bir Sey Var"
Our feet tread down the same ground
Each of us lofty and weak
Sharing pride and fear,
Ireland always sends strength to heart
By songs of battle or peaceful tunes
Ireland always sends strenght to heart
And we´ll do our duty: protecting the heritage,
And the winds of Scotland sing strong in our skies
Giving hope and joy to our kinly nation
And the winds of Wales blow long and loud
Colouring the dream into reality,
A uniform world
Or in a million pieces
Somewhere in between we can still live.
Translated Breton poem/song written by Alan Stivell - from his album: 1 Douar
(peida) Kui Sa hoiad oma hiirekursorit mängija liikmelisuse ikoonil, siis tulevad nähtavale selle peamised detailid. (pauloaguia) (näita kõiki vihjeid)