to get to the archive click here ... ~*~ :)

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned out backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

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.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.


by Wilfred Owen

Hi, danoschek! Where did you find this one? It´s not only very interesting but nearly forgotten, as far as I know, especially outside Scotland.

Hi, that´s one of my favourite songs by Cohen - and I still love it...
Well done...

Hello! I´m very pleased and really delighted that you posted this poem. Generally Hikmet is not so well known here...
Thanks a lot...

I really enjoyed that, thank you :o)

wow honey...that is very visually descriptive :)

ON LIVING

I

Living is no laughing matter:
you must live with great seriousness
like a squirrel, for example-
I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,
I mean living must be your whole occupation.
Living is no laughing matter:
you must take it seriously,
so much so and to such a degree
that, for example, your hands tied behind your back,
your back to the wall,
or else in a laboratory
in your white coat and safety glasses,
you can die for people-
even for people whose faces you've never seen,
even though you know living
is the most real, the most beautiful thing.
I mean, you must take living so seriously
that even at seventy, for example, you'll plant olive trees-
and not for your children, either,
but because although you fear death you don't believe it,
because living, I mean, weighs heavier.


II

Let's say you're seriously ill, need surgery -
which is to say we might not get
from the white table.
Even though it's impossible not to feel sad
about going a little too soon,
we'll still laugh at the jokes being told,
we'll look out the window to see it's raining,
or still wait anxiously
for the latest newscast ...
Let's say we're at the front-
for something worth fighting for, say.
There, in the first offensive, on that very day,
we might fall on our face, dead.
We'll know this with a curious anger,
but we'll still worry ourselves to death
about the outcome of the war, which could last years.
Let's say we're in prison
and close to fifty,
and we have eighteen more years, say,
before the iron doors will open.
We'll still live with the outside,
with its people and animals, struggle and wind-
I mean with the outside beyond the walls.
I mean, however and wherever we are,
we must live as if we will never die.


III

This earth will grow cold,
a star among stars
and one of the smallest,
a gilded mote on blue velvet-
I mean this, our great earth.
This earth will grow cold one day,
not like a block of ice
or a dead cloud even
but like an empty walnut it will roll along
in pitch-black space ...
You must grieve for this right now
-you have to feel this sorrow now-
for the world must be loved this much
if you're going to say ``I lived'' ...



Nazim Hikmet February, 1948 Trans. Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk - 1993

A Divine Image
by William Blake


Cruelty has a human heart,
And Jealousy a human face;
Terror the human form divine,
And Secresy the human dress.

The human dress is forged iron,
The human form a fiery forge,
The human face a furnace sealed,
The human heart its hungry gorge.

Thank you Thank you Thank you...all of you...my grannies heart is so blessed and touched and tears but happy tears.....words I cannot find to say right to how I feel...but very elated and excited and want to dance :) any one ready LOLOL...thank you all again...such beautiful beautiful words..from you all...wow what a birthday!!!!!!!!!!!and its still going here also where I am now.........Granny Wombats so proud!! to be a part of the family...also:)

Current river dear........wow am I happy to see you also ...:) I know you were so busy time....!!

Johnny Walker - always browned by sun
Johnny Walker - I shall let you run
Johnny Walker - come and take my hand
Johnny - you are my only friend ...

Johnny Walker - there you are again
Johnny Walker - I do enjoy your chain
Johnny Walker - come flow into my glass
Johnny - you are my favorite mass ...

I tried, seems cannot live without you though
- Why anyway ? I'm daily used to bow
Nobody else does listen like you do,
You'd never laugh at me or, at my view ...

Johnny Walker - I don't believe that crap
Johnny Walker - you'd wear the devil's tab
Johnny Walker - go merely roast me grind
Johnny - I'm king after the next pint ...

transposed by Daniel
from german songlyrics of
Marius Mueller Westernhagen ... ~*~

lol you been a little preoccupied with other issues not really had time to do much posting honey :)

maybe you will grace us with more beautiful poetry soon

I can't believe you put this up!!!! I was listening to this just yesterday, one of my ALL TIME favorite songs. Was considering making the post myself. Unbelievable. TY :o)

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by
You can spend the night beside her
And you know that she's half crazy
But that's why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges
That come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell her
That you have no love to give her
Then she gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer
That you've always been her lover
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For you've touched her perfect body with your mind.

And Jesus was a sailor
When he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching
From his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain
Only drowning men could see him
He said "All men will be sailors then
Until the sea shall free them"
But he himself was broken
Long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human
He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
And you want to travel with him
And you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him
For he's touched your perfect body with his mind.

Now Suzanne takes your hand
And she leads you to the river
She is wearing rags and feathers
From Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey
On our lady of the harbour
And she shows you where to look
Among the garbage and the flowers
There are heroes in the seaweed
There are children in the morning
They are leaning out for love
And they will lean that way forever
While Suzanne holds the mirror
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that you can trust her
For she's touched your perfect body with her mind.

*Leonard Cohen

ty carolinaQT
:-)

sorry you were hurt..no fun being the butt of someones sad jokes:)

Just a poem I wrote about two people I thought were my friends...
I went to this chat room and was friends with two very special people and they back stabbed me..
This is the poem I wrote about the experience.......

FRIENDLY ANGEL
by MIKE
Hi my Friendly Angel...
The one I found so dear...
But now I find I have a tear...
True friendship is rare...
Now my heart is a bit bare...
Due to circumstance we are no more...
You showed me welcome then the door...
Yet all is not lost I don't mind the toss... Besides your the BOSS... When power controls your mind...
I got it in my behind...
They say life's success is not the money... It's the friends and people that love you honey... For you are still young and have allot to learn... For my friendship you have to earn...
For at times I was there more then you two... Because of a word from one we are through... I thank you for the time...
But you two can no longer be friends of mine...

wAit tiLL Ya gEt a LoAd oF My pOeTry!!
lol....i WiLL KeEp iT cLeArn!
Hi Usurper!

Very Happy Birthday granny!!! sorry for lateness.had ill child ):

A Happy Birthday to You ~~

A Happy Birthday to You ~~

Everyday day of the year ~~

May You find Jesus near ~~

A Happy Birthday to You ~~

A Happy Birthday to You ~~

And the BEST one you've ever had.

" HAPPY BIRTHDAY " Edrena.

Happy Birthday, grannywombatplops! I told you you have lots of friends here!
As your birthday treat I won't moan when you nag me!

Have a very happy birthday Granny. :o)

Thank you so much, lilac fairy and Radiant. :o)

OK Radiant, you've talked me into it!!! ;o)

Happy Birthday granny! You make these boards shine. :o)

Happy birthday granny!!!!

(((Granny)))

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you, dear Edrena
Happy Birthday to you!!!!

And have a wonderful, blessed day and many many sunny days ahead!! :-)))))))

hugs&love,
~*Radiant 36:9*~

YAY ! :D

such poetry of math must be at the right board here ... :)

happy birthday, Granny !!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amore e 'l cor gentil"

Dante Alighieri
(1265-1321)
Tuscan Dialect


Amore e 'l cor gentil sono una cosa,
sě come il saggio in suo dittare pone,
e cosě esser l'un sanza l'altro osa
com'alma razional sanza ragione.

Falli natura quand'č amorosa,
Amor per sire e 'l cor per sua magione,
dentro la qual dormendo si riposa
tal volta poca e tal lunga stagione.

Bieltate appare in saggia donna pui,
che piace a li occhi sě, che dentro al core
nasce un disio de la cosa piacente;

e tanto dura talora in costui,
che fa svegliar lo spirito d'Amore.
E simil face in donna omo valente.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ '._ --'--;{@ _.-' ~~~~~~~~~~ ~*~

________________________________________________

Translation:

"Love and the gentle heart"

Love and the gentle heart are one thing,
as the wise one sets forth in his poem,
and one can be without the other only
as much as the rational soul without reason.

Nature creates them both when it is turned toward love,
love as the lord, the heart as his mansion
wherein he abides and sleeps
sometimes a short while, sometimes long.

Then beauty comes forth in a lady who is wise,
so pleasing to the eyes that in the heart
a desire in born for that beautiful thing;

and lasts so long, sometimes, in the heart,
it makes the spirit of Love awaken.
In woman's heart a man of worth brings forth the same awakening.
_

I'm sorry if this is the wrong board but I would like to wish granny (emattie1943) an extra special HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
Even with my bad maths I can work out that it's a milestone birthday today!

those are lovely Usurper. :o)

you are on the go!! Absolutely beautiful: both poems... Entry-Quality-Guaranteed!!! ;o)))

A woman’s touch
Pillow at my head
Mother is dying
Father is dead

Eyes like crystals
Skin like glass
Coldness becomes you
My hollow lass

Winter is coming
We are alone
I am your flesh
You are my bone

Unnatural fragrance
Masking the truth
I can’t remember
Being a youth

Elegant tombstone
Death in the air
Frozen earth waiting
You were once fair

Winter is coming
You’ve turned away
Where you have gone to
I cannot say

"starting" you say?? Oh no dear Aragon....it was love at first "type" hehehe

GEEEE YA THINK??? LOL

OMG!!!!! thank you my darling :) my heart has melted and i have a tear in my eye...you are soooo wonderful :)

Stunning Usurper! Can I see a big KM love affair beginning here? ;o)

And the preste haffys the poppys power in hande,
Betuix thre and sex - whoso wyll understande -
Mekyll baret ande bale shall fall in Brutis lande.

When pryde is most in price, ande wyt is in covatyse,
Lychory is ryffe, and theffis has haldin thar lyff,
Holy Chirche is awlesse, and justicis ar lawlesse,
Bothte knychtis and knawys clede in on clething,
Be the yheris of Cryst, comyn and gone,
Fully nynty ande nyne (nocht one wone):
Then shall sorow be sett ande unsell,
Than shall Dame Fortowne turne hir whell.
Scho sall turne up that ar was doune,
And than sall leawté ber the crowne.

Betweyne the cheyff of the somer and the sad winter,
For the heycht of the heyte happyne sall wer;
And everyche lorde shall austernly werk.
Then shall Nazareth noy well awhile;
And the Lilly so lele wytht lovelyche flouris
For harmes of the hardé heyte sall hillyne his ledis,
Syne speyde hime at sped, and spawne in the wynter.

All the Flowris in the Fyrth sall folow hime one.
Tatcalders sall call on Carioun the noyus,
And than sall worthe up Wallys and wrethe othir landis,

And erth on tyll Albany, if thai may wyne.
Herme wnto alienys, anever thai sall wakyne!
The Bruttis blude sall thame wakyne and bryttne wyth brandis of stell:

Ther sall no bastarde blode abyde in that lande.
Then Albanattus the kene, kynde kynge offe erthe,
Unto the Libert shall leng - leve yhe non othir.

The Lyone, leder of bestis,
Shall lowte to the Libert and long hume wytht,
And shall stere hume at stryff be stremis of Humber.

The stopsonys of the Lyonne, steryt up at ones,
The Leoperde sall thame stryke doune, and stroy thame for ever.
He sall thame kenly kersse, as Cryst has hume bydyne,
And thus He sall thame doune dryff, ewyne to the ende.
For thai luf nocht the Lylly nor the Libert lelle,
And thai halde to the hardé, happyn as it may,
Ay to the tayle of somyr tyne hir lappis.
Wytht that sall a Libert be louse, when thai lest weyne.
Ane Egle of the est, ande ane aventruse byrde,
Shall fande flowrys to fange in that fyrste sesoun;
Sterte to the stopsonys, stryke thame doune to-gether,
To bynde bandis unbrokyne that salbe furthe broucht.
He sall hime garlandis gete of the gay flowrys
At in that sesoune spredis so fayre.
And all sall fawle the foulke that the freke strykis;
A sely northyrune flaw sall fadyne for ever.

Herafter on othir syde sorow sall ryse,
The Barge of Bar-Jona bowne to the sonkyne,
Secularis sall set thame in spiritual clothis
And occupy thar offices, ennoyntyd as thai war.
Thar tonsurys tak wytht turnamentis inowe,
And trow tytyll of trouth that the strenth haldis.
That salbe tene for to tell the tende of thar sorow
That sall ourdryff the date doune to the boke.
This most betyde in the time - throw yhe forsuthe -
Qwhen A B C may sett hume to wryte.
Anon efter M1, evene to rewlle,
Tre CCC in a sute semblyt to-gether,
Ande syne, efter ane l, as the lyne askis,
Tris X ande ane R enterly folowande:
This is the dolorouse date - understande yhe the glose -
Wheroff whyll Merlyne melys in his bokis.

Busk ye wyell, Berwyk, be blyth of this wordis,
That Sant Bede fande in his buk of the byg bergh.
The trew towne upon Twede wytht towrys fayre!
Thow sall releve to thi keng, that is the kende eyr.
Ande othir burghys abowte, wytht thar brade wall,
Sall wytht the Lyoune be leffe ande longe for-ever.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

also known as The Second Scottish Prophecy

Gulp. Could you make it just 10 lashes this time instead of the usual 20? I've been through a lot.

There you go again Chief giving me a bad name...tsk tsk tsk...I warned you about that.......

Merely for walking. The only one who might use it for spanking is Mistress Stardust KM who is in charge of discipline. lol

You mean this KM thing involves spanking??? Oo-er!

I have a cane available. It's ok...I have 3 others.

Gum??? Not a chance! I've found a big stick is much more effective in my games. lol

Yeah a big one, thats a better idea i'll just beat them.........erm.........you mean of gum??

ggggggulp. wanna borrow a stick? :o)

Yeah all you top players just watch out!! I have come to win checkers games or chew gum. And im all out of gum! ROFL

Aragon KM is a true genius at everything he undertakes. When he turns that genius to checkers all the "top" guys better head for the woods. My plan is to keep him distracted with Trivia Quizzes. LOL

BRAINKING FRIENDS

I have an amazing group of friends,
As dear as they can be.
I love them all, but sad to say,
Most I'llnever get to see.

The only claim I have is that
When I feel sad, alone or blue,
I get on line, play games and chat.
And maybe find someone who feels it too.

They give love, support, opinions and such,
Which I can take or ponder much,
But...sometimes I round a bend
And Lo!! I'll make a brand new friend.

Feel bad, or sad?
Just plain sick:
Got an attitude or habit you want to kick?
"Its ok", your friends will say,
"We've all been there before,
A time or two, just like you".

We know the ups, the downs,
The highs, the lows,
The "I-could-kill-that-so-n-so's".
The pain and strain, of getting through
The leave-takings without adieu.

We've seen it all, the been-theres done-thats,
We've worn all the different hats,
That makes us each uniquely "us",
And when we want to make a fuss,
We come online and find the equalizers,
The friends, who become our sympathizers,
Who know, feel, wish, and pray,
When you both know there is nothing more to say--
But an online friend,
WILL say it anyway....

TNP

This epitomizes the KM Family :o)
and my two serogate sisters Medic & Harley!! LOL

Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary,
System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor,
Longing for the warmth of bed sheets, still I sat there doing spreadsheets.
Having reached the bottom line I took a floppy from the drawer,
I then invoked the SAVE command and waited for the disk to store,
Only this and nothing more.

Deep into the monitor peering, long I sat there wond'ring, fearing,
Doubting, while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more.
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token.
"Save!" I said, "You cursed mother! Save my data from before!"
One thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more,
Just, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

Was this some occult illusion, some maniacal intrusion?
These were choices undesired, ones I'd never faced before.
Carefully I weighed the choices as the disk made impish noises.
The cursor flashed, insistent, waiting, baiting me to type some more.
Clearly I must press a key, choosing one and nothing more,
From "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

With fingers pale and trembling, slowly toward the keyboard bending,
Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored,
Praying for some guarantee, timidly, I pressed a key.
But on the screen there still persisted words appearing as before.
Ghastly grim they blinked and taunted, haunted, as my patience wore,
Saying "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

I tried to catch the chips off guard, and pressed again, but twice as hard.
I pleaded with the cursed machine: I begged and cried and then I swore.
Now in mighty desperation, trying random combinations,
Still there came the incantation, just as senseless as before.
Cursor blinking, angrily winking, blinking nonsense as before.
Reading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

There I sat, distraught, exhausted, by my own machine accosted.
Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor.
And then I saw a dreadful sight: a lightning bolt cut through the night.
A gasp of horror overtook me, shook me to my very core.
The lightning zapped my previous data, lost and gone forevermore.
Not even, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

To this day I do not know the place to which lost data go.
What demonic nether world us wrought where lost data will be stored,
Beyond the reach of mortal souls, beyond the ether, into black holes?
But sure as there's C, Pascal, Lotus, Ashton-Tate and more,
You will be one day be left to wander, lost on some Plutonian shore,
Pleading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

_Anon

Masterful,Greg...simply divine! Mark it as an entry and I suspect you'll be one trophy richer! :-)
Of course,deep within the recesses of that mind of yours there no doubt lies countless more works to leave us all in awe! Your talent is great and just one reason I doubt I'll enter this poetry challenge,myself! lol

Seated in my study dreaming, all the air about me teeming,
Images of lost years streaming, broken strands of yesterday –
Through the pane comes moonlight gleaming on my face, O ever seeming
To intrude with clever scheming, secrets hid in every ray –
Might there be a cryptic meaning in this strange, unearthly play
Shining o’er this brittle clay?

Outside my door the wild wind sleeps ‘neath dusky sky and western steeps –
Succumbs the Summer; Winter creeps into my sanctuary –
Into my blood dejection seeps as ‘round a nook a lorn eye peeps,
And sorrow rises from the deeps to clothe this sad-eyed Fairy –
The silence moans, the twilight weeps, and all the world’s contrary –
Lost ghosts glide o’er the prairie.

In the gloaming, beyond the coast, there march the souls I treasure most;
Beneath the crescent moon a hoste of warriors in the fleeting day –
Of treasures lost I surely boast and place my name upon the Post
Which stands like some unliving ghost on the edge of my dismay –
I lift the glass and make the toast to ghosts whom I would fain belay –
Old soldiers lost in the fray.

Some ghosts are living, some are gone to hollow holes in lands unknown
Where starlight gleams as cold as stone and black-eyed demons bar the gate –
A curse it is to be alone, lost in that chilling, timeless Zone
Where ev’ry echo is a groan against the calloused hands of Fate –
There is, in sooth, cause to bemoan a Cosmos laid on slabs of hate,
Whose Lord I dare to inculpate.

My ancestors were men of steel and to them now I must appeal,
For though they’ve passed, they are more real than far-fetch’d gods of make-believe –
O shadows flee! O Satan reel! before whose throne all cowards kneel –
I’ll make no parleys, strike no deal, nor let my mind his lies deceive –
Let others yield, their hearts congeal – I’ll never give nor ask reprieve,
Though he doth my soul bereave.

Father, you have gone to the grave, that mystic realm, that far enclave
Where all my future hopes once clave, while still I searched for the Grail –
The Earth takes back what once she gave no matter how we fret or rave,
And what is free she’ll soon enslave and lead along the ancient trail –
Wash now my heart, my spirit lave! O Goddess underneath the Veil –
‘Gainst thee I shall never rail!

I’ve surely lived in Hell-bent haste, as if there were no time to waste –
Each moment might have been encased, and here the pain of loss allay –
But she beckoned, so I raced until I had myself out-paced,
And left my heart and mind un-braced for dark emotions long at bay –
With sadness now my soul is laced in mounting grief too great to weigh –
Against myself I must inveigh.

Riding now on wave-upon-wave, plunging into the nethermost cave,
Where music swells my soul doth crave, once more my heart to impale –
For though I be so bold, so brave, I’m still, in truth, a simple slave
Who clings to chains within this Nave to withstand the bitter gale –
I cannot walk the path I pave, nor can I gaze beyond the pale –
To be mortal is to fail.

I summon ghosts from far and near to inspire hope and withstand fear,
But ofttimes shed a lonely tear while gazing into the Past –
Too long! too long! those voices dear have failed to grace this yearning ear,
And phantoms vanish while I peer into the dismal gloom so vast –
No ripple on the haunted mere reveals the anchor vainly cast –
I am left alone at last.

O come, bright Maiden, lithe and fair, and guide me to thy hidden lair –
For I am yours, I now declare, against impossibility –
Entwine me in thy silver hair and lift the burden I can’t bear,
As I ascend the arcane stair into thy dark tranquility –
I’ll sit beside thee in thy chair and praise thy high facility –
Blessed rare ability!

A puff of smoke, a sip of wine preserve my memories in brine,
And I take oath: I will be thine, O Maiden fair, O spectral Dame –
Take I this Vision for a sign that you, my Lady, will be mine;
Upon thy breast I shall recline, and lay to rest this mortal frame –
Be thou my Love, my true Ensign, for never will I be the same –
My Love, what is thy name?

Now darkness falls, the Vision’s fled – I must bestir myself to bed,
Content to know my soul is wed to the Sylph of my delusion –
For though my Angel now is dead, when all is done and all is said,
She ever lives within my head, and all else is confusion –
These ghosts are rather real instead, and this is my conclusion –
Dare not call it Illusion!