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Favorite lines of poetry


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#201 Lexus77

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Posted 09 December 2017 - 00:29

One of my favorite poems from my own hand, written in my mother tongue, low Saxon:
 

Wat gif dat nog, a'j heimwee hebt?
Dat maakt oew hett mar zwoar.
Dat thoes, da'j laang nich meer hebt zeen,
zeg zölf, wat zeuk iej doar?

 

Loat goan den dreum van laang veurbiej,
de weg wierum is wied.
Iej zeukt gin stuksken oale stiej,
iej zeukt ne keendertied.

 

Iej keunt niks umdreajn, mut veuroet,
loat goan dus, dat beklag.
Kiek nich meer um noar wat is west,
leaf hier, met dizn dag.

In English, roughly translated:

What is there in being homesick? 
It only makes your heart heavy.
That home, you haven't seen for long,
say, what do you search for, there?

Let go that dream of long gone times,
the road back is long,
you're not looking for the old place,
you're looking for a childhood.


You can't reverse anything, have to go forward,
so let go of your complaints.
Don't look back at what has passed,
live here, with this day.
 


Edited by Lexus77, 09 December 2017 - 00:30.

Forgive your enemies. Nothing annoys them so much. - Oscar Wilde.


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#202 Runnin_Ute

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Posted 09 December 2017 - 00:57

If by Rudyard Kipling

the last couple of lines:

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Brad
 
"Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind" - Rudyard Kipling
"None of us can have as many virtues as the fountain-pen, or half its cussedness; but we can try." - Mark Twain
 
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#203 Doulton

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Posted 10 December 2017 - 17:04

I really like your poem, Lexus77  Thank you for posting it and for the translation.  


"Tea cleared my head and left me with no misapprehensions".
The Duke of Wellington



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#204 MG66

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Posted 12 December 2017 - 02:07

My favorite part of one of my favorite poems:

 

-----

 

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' 
We are not now that strength which in old days 
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; 
One equal temper of heroic hearts, 
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will 
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Scribendo Cogito 


#205 Doulton

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Posted 12 December 2017 - 03:21

What an ear Lord Tennyson had! Thank you for posting that.
"Tea cleared my head and left me with no misapprehensions".
The Duke of Wellington



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#206 Lexus77

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Posted 14 December 2017 - 09:10

I really like your poem, Lexus77  Thank you for posting it and for the translation.  

Awh... thank you!


Forgive your enemies. Nothing annoys them so much. - Oscar Wilde.


#207 hh1990

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Posted 14 December 2017 - 16:11

Besides the Autumn poets sing - Emily Dickinson

 

Besides the Autumn poets sing,    
A few prosaic days    
A little this side of the snow    
And that side of the Haze -    

A few incisive mornings -    
A few Ascetic eves -    
Gone - Mr Bryant’s “Golden Rod” -    
And Mr Thomson’s “sheaves.”    

Still, is the bustle in the brook -    
Sealed are the spicy valves -    
Mesmeric fingers softly touch    
The eyes of many Elves -    

Perhaps a squirrel may remain -    
My sentiments to share -
Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind -
Thy windy will to bear!



#208 Doulton

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Posted 16 December 2017 - 02:38

Very nice commentary by Emily Dickinson on those “prosaic days”.
"Tea cleared my head and left me with no misapprehensions".
The Duke of Wellington



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#209 Herrjaeger

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Posted 20 December 2017 - 18:28

The Oxen
BY THOMAS HARDY
Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
“Now they are all on their knees,”
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
“Come; see the oxen kneel,

“In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,”
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so.


One of my favorites at this time of year.

#210 Doulton

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Posted 23 December 2017 - 14:54

I love "The Oxen," Herrjaeger.  "So fair a fancy few would weave..."

I am glad that you posted it.  2 or 3 years ago I posted it to an alumni chat list and was asked to leave the list for the "offensive material"!!!!


"Tea cleared my head and left me with no misapprehensions".
The Duke of Wellington



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#211 Doulton

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Posted 23 December 2017 - 14:55

Christmas Mail
Cards in each mailbox, 
angel, manger, star and lamb, 
as the rural carrier, 
driving the snowy roads, 
hears from her bundles 
the plaintive bleating of sheep, 
the shuffle of sandals, 
the clopping of camels. 
At stop after stop, 
she opens the little tin door 
and places deep in the shadows 
the shepherds and wise men, 
the donkeys lank and weary, 
the cow who chews and muses. 
And from her Styrofoam cup, 
white as a star and perched 
on the dashboard, leading her 
ever into the distance, 
there is a hint of hazelnut, 
and then a touch of myrrh.
 
 

"Tea cleared my head and left me with no misapprehensions".
The Duke of Wellington



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#212 Herrjaeger

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Posted 23 December 2017 - 18:37

Christmas Mail


BY TED KOOSER



Cards in each mailbox, 
angel, manger, star and lamb, 
as the rural carrier, 
driving the snowy roads, 
hears from her bundles 
the plaintive bleating of sheep, 
the shuffle of sandals, 
the clopping of camels. 
At stop after stop, 
she opens the little tin door 
and places deep in the shadows 
the shepherds and wise men, 
the donkeys lank and weary, 
the cow who chews and muses. 
And from her Styrofoam cup, 
white as a star and perched 
on the dashboard, leading her 
ever into the distance, 
there is a hint of hazelnut, 
and then a touch of myrrh.

Doulton, this has a similar, lovely sentiment, albeit more modern. Thanks for posting it.

#213 Doulton

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Posted 25 December 2017 - 14:30

Carol
James Harpur

The falcon flew from dark to dark
drew silver from the Northern Star
and headed for the crinkled hills,
the rivers, lakes and waterfalls
to find the source of light on earth
the source of light on earth.

And as three weary pilgrim kings
looked up and saw his glittering wings
the falcon saw a darkened town
a stable glowing like a crown
and knew that he had found the truth
that he had found the truth.

The falcon hovered like a star
his wings spun out a spirit fire
that drew the kings inside the shed:
the child asleep in his straw bed
was dreaming of a silver bird
was dreaming of a bird.

His task now done, the falcon rose
a spark ablaze with joyful news;
he lit the stars, he lit the moon
then vanished in the arc of sun
that dawned beyond the Southern Cross
beyond the Southern Cross.


"Tea cleared my head and left me with no misapprehensions".
The Duke of Wellington



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#214 MG66

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Posted 27 December 2017 - 20:47

So live, that when thy summons comes to join   
The innumerable caravan, which moves   
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take   
His chamber in the silent halls of death,   
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,   
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed   
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,   
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch   
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

Scribendo Cogito 


#215 Doulton

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Posted 31 December 2017 - 18:57

"Year's End" by Richard Wilbur (1950)

Now winter downs the dying of the year,
And night is all a settlement of snow;
From the soft street the rooms of houses show
A gathered light, a shapen atmosphere,
Like frozen-over lakes whose ice is thin
And still allows some stirring down within.

I’ve known the wind by water banks to shake
The late leaves down, which frozen where they fell
And held in ice as dancers in a spell
Fluttered all winter long into a lake;
Graved on the dark in gestures of descent,
They seemed their own most perfect monument.

There was perfection in the death of ferns
Which laid their fragile cheeks against the stone
A million years. Great mammoths overthrown
Composedly have made their long sojourns,
Like palaces of patience, in the gray
And changeless lands of ice. And at Pompeii

The little dog lay curled and did not rise
But slept the deeper as the ashes rose
And found the people incomplete, and froze
The random hands, the loose unready eyes
Of men expecting yet another sun
To do the shapely thing they had not done.

These sudden ends of time must give us pause.
We fray into the future, rarely wrought
Save in the tapestries of afterthought.
More time, more time. Barrages of applause
Come muffled from a buried radio.
The New-year bells are wrangling with the snow.

 

"Tea cleared my head and left me with no misapprehensions".
The Duke of Wellington



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#216 hh1990

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Posted 01 January 2018 - 19:49

There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul! 
 
Emily Dickinson


#217 Herrjaeger

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Posted 02 January 2018 - 01:50

Dust of Snow
BY ROBERT FROST
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

#218 Doulton

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Posted 02 January 2018 - 17:27

I love the recently posted excerpt from "Thanatopsis," plus the Dickinson and Frost.  They are so very well-chosen for this time of year.  Thank you.


"Tea cleared my head and left me with no misapprehensions".
The Duke of Wellington



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#219 MG66

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Posted 03 January 2018 - 13:43

I've wondered how the end/beginning of the year is seen in the southern hemisphere.  So much of our poetry and literature refer to the darkness, coldness, snow, frost, etc...  the hope of a brighter, warmer tomorrow, new life on the horizon (spring) etc...  What would we write if Christmas and New Year's Day had a decent shot at being among the longest, hottest days of the year?  

 

Interesting.

 

 

- C


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#220 praxim

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Posted 03 January 2018 - 21:15

I've wondered how the end/beginning of the year is seen in the southern hemisphere.  So much of our poetry and literature refer to the darkness, coldness, snow, frost, etc...  the hope of a brighter, warmer tomorrow, new life on the horizon (spring) etc...  What would we write if Christmas and New Year's Day had a decent shot at being among the longest, hottest days of the year?  

 

Interesting.

 

 

- C

 

From my youth I do not recall any poetry related to solstice, christmas or new year. I was down at the beach. :D

 

Henry Lawson probably wrote something about a drover trying to get back home for christmas while his wife at home messed with snakes and fought a bushfire, but he gets killed by a falling gumtree branch before he makes it.


Anyone owning three or more working pens is in no position to disparage choices by others, so cheer up and enjoy your pens. :)






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