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Get the Quote - Ohmsen - Oct 21, 2021 - 9:09am
 
Lyrics that strike a chord today... - miamizsun - Oct 21, 2021 - 8:39am
 
Philosophy (Meaty Metaphysical Munchables!) - dischuckin - Oct 21, 2021 - 8:38am
 
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A little smooth jazz never hurt anyone - rhahl - Oct 21, 2021 - 7:27am
 
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Upcoming concerts or shows you can't wait to see - miamizsun - Oct 21, 2021 - 5:47am
 
Outstanding Covers - Ohmsen - Oct 21, 2021 - 5:39am
 
Graphic designers, ho! - Ohmsen - Oct 21, 2021 - 4:25am
 
Tech & Science - Manbird - Oct 20, 2021 - 6:17pm
 
Bitcoin - kurtster - Oct 20, 2021 - 4:50pm
 
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Way Cool Video - oldviolin - Oct 20, 2021 - 3:10pm
 
The Obituary Page - Red_Dragon - Oct 20, 2021 - 2:28pm
 
- PUNS - POLICE - oldviolin - Oct 20, 2021 - 12:02pm
 
Index » Entertainment » Books » Poetry Forum Page: Previous  1, 2, 3, ... 205, 206, 207  Next
Post to this Topic
Manbird

Manbird Avatar

Location: Owl Creek Bridge
Gender: Male


Posted: Jul 13, 2021 - 7:06pm

 ScottN wrote:

The Want of Peace

All goes back to the earth,
and so I do not desire
pride of excess or power,
but the contentments made
by men who have had little:
the fisherman's silence
receiving the river's grace,
the gardner's musing on rows.

I lack the peace of simple things.
I am never wholly in place.
I find no peace or grace.
We sell the world to buy fire,
our way lighted by burning men,
and that has bent my mind
and made me think of darkness
and wish for the dumb life of roots.

WENDELL BERRY




 hey now...

ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Jul 13, 2021 - 12:46pm

The Want of Peace

All goes back to the earth,
and so I do not desire
pride of excess or power,
but the contentments made
by men who have had little:
the fisherman's silence
receiving the river's grace,
the gardner's musing on rows.

I lack the peace of simple things.
I am never wholly in place.
I find no peace or grace.
We sell the world to buy fire,
our way lighted by burning men,
and that has bent my mind
and made me think of darkness
and wish for the dumb life of roots.

WENDELL BERRY

oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Jul 8, 2021 - 12:37pm

oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Jun 29, 2021 - 11:18am

 

HAMLET

To die, to sleep—
No more—and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep—
To sleep—perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of disprized love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death
The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?

WS

oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Jun 28, 2021 - 10:36am

A Psalm of Life

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

 

What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist.

 

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
   Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
   And things are not what they seem.
 
Life is real! Life is earnest!
   And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
   Was not spoken of the soul.
 
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
   Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
   Find us farther than to-day.
 
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
   And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
   Funeral marches to the grave.
 
In the world’s broad field of battle,
   In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
   Be a hero in the strife!
 
Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
   Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,— act in the living Present!
   Heart within, and God o’erhead!
 
Lives of great men all remind us
   We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
   Footprints on the sands of time;
 
Footprints, that perhaps another,
   Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
   Seeing, shall take heart again.
 
Let us, then, be up and doing,
   With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
   Learn to labor and to wait.
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Jun 24, 2021 - 12:03pm

 Steely_D wrote:
 oldviolin wrote:

All that glisters is not gold—

When people say "glitters" it really grinds my gears.
 
you mean it gritters your getters?
Steely_D

Steely_D Avatar

Location: Biscayne Bay
Gender: Male


Posted: Jun 21, 2021 - 12:09pm

 oldviolin wrote:

All that glisters is not gold—



When people say "glitters" it really grinds my gears.
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Jun 21, 2021 - 10:40am

All that glisters is not gold—
Often have you heard that told.
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold.
Gilded tombs do worms enfold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been inscrolled
Fare you well. Your suit is cold—

— William Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, Act II Scene 7
Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: Jun 20, 2021 - 12:04pm

MaryOliver Summer
Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: Jun 12, 2021 - 3:55pm

 oldviolin wrote:

He is woefully underappreciated IMO.
He and his wife Susan are super nice people.
{#Good-vibes}


Love his fiction. Lovely wordsmith.
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Jun 12, 2021 - 3:48pm

 Antigone wrote:
 
Fred is one of my favorites. 
 
He is woefully underappreciated IMO.
He and his wife Susan are super nice people.{#Good-vibes}
Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: Jun 12, 2021 - 3:31pm

 oldviolin wrote:

 

Epitaph- The Poet

I never truckled.
I never pandered.
I was born
To be remaindered.

Fred Chappell




Fred is one of my favorites. 
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Jun 12, 2021 - 3:29pm

 

Epitaph- The Poet

I never truckled.
I never pandered.
I was born
To be remaindered.

Fred Chappell

ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Jun 9, 2021 - 4:43am

The Second Coming
by William Butler Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
 
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Jun 4, 2021 - 6:43pm

 Manbird wrote:
Agua y Tiempo

nothing speaks
of the water
of the time
of the candles
I who asks nothing
with voice of water
no song of time
pay I the lemons with lime
that uncoloring of essence
of the yellowed maps
light candles for scent
in the carved bowls
of hawthorn wood
bowl of breath
of the time
collected and saved for I
the driftwood
the photographs
fixed next to letters
candles of the cirrus
of the citric fruit
of the time
the water sanctified
of the time
chinese and aztec
of the symbols
of lemongrass
of the bitter orange
of the containers of tin
oiled by the fingers from the past
ruined with bones and teeth
they do not reveal
in darkness of unreach
nothing dispersed by the
gathered wind
identified and altered
I with no fingerprint
of the time
this wax of bees
wax of the cedar
bees of the desert
I of the water
the rosewood boxes
the tobacco rubbed
by I with tea fingers
stones rolled above
within the walls of the earth
gathered in jars

Within I nothing
speaks colors of rose
of silence of mandarin
of the water found
in the sea
the aroma of the salt
salt in the sea
the almonds grow
the fruit accumulation
measures I with time
of the unread memories
and to record in wood
the books never inked
the soldiers of the metal called lead
who die within prayer
yellowed of leather
unspoken for one decade
current of time
black angelica upon I
wormwood and blood oranges
I for more water
washing the time
of the copper icons
of the flowering of jazmín
and the star of the evening
the medals received
for the war never battled
of time
of the water
breathe I inside me

by Rob Diebold
 
{#Good-vibes}
Manbird

Manbird Avatar

Location: Owl Creek Bridge
Gender: Male


Posted: Jun 4, 2021 - 5:56pm

Agua y Tiempo

nothing speaks
of the water
of the time
of the candles
I who asks nothing
with voice of water
no song of time
pay I the lemons with lime
that uncoloring of essence
of the yellowed maps
light candles for scent
in the carved bowls
of hawthorn wood
bowl of breath
of the time
collected and saved for I
the driftwood
the photographs
fixed next to letters
candles of the cirrus
of the citric fruit
of the time
the water sanctified
of the time
chinese and aztec
of the symbols
of lemongrass
of the bitter orange
of the containers of tin
oiled by the fingers from the past
ruined with bones and teeth
they do not reveal
in darkness of unreach
nothing dispersed by the
gathered wind
identified and altered
I with no fingerprint
of the time
this wax of bees
wax of the cedar
bees of the desert
I of the water
the rosewood boxes
the tobacco rubbed
by I with tea fingers
stones rolled above
within the walls of the earth
gathered in jars

Within I nothing
speaks colors of rose
of silence of mandarin
of the water found
in the sea
the aroma of the salt
salt in the sea
the almonds grow
the fruit accumulation
measures I with time
of the unread memories
and to record in wood
the books never inked
the soldiers of the metal called lead
who die within prayer
yellowed of leather
unspoken for one decade
current of time
black angelica upon I
wormwood and blood oranges
I for more water
washing the time
of the copper icons
of the flowering of jazmín
and the star of the evening
the medals received
for the war never battled
of time
of the water
breathe I inside me

by Rob Diebold
ScottN

ScottN Avatar

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary
Gender: Male


Posted: Jun 4, 2021 - 6:21am

COMFORT OF THE RESURRECTION
by Kim Addonizio

One day everything that’s over or dead
will come back, oil painting & God,
chivalry & the kings (even the mad
old rotters, why not, while the heads
of the plotters are removed
from their iron spikes & carefully glued
on again)— why not believe in the miracle— plaid
has already come back so why not the starved
& flooded corpses, why not fresh bread
from charred toast, aren’t the grubbers in the cupboard
constantly churning up from the charnel the old
ingredients, holy seed, holy blood,
nothing is ever destroyed,
but tell that to Marianna whose child
lived for three days brainless & blind
close by cheap factories on the filthy Rio Grande,
tell it to all the ruined & annulled
residents of the earth, everything
& everyone will be restored
& immortal diamonds will soon be yours.

Antigone

Antigone Avatar

Location: A house, in a Virginian Valley
Gender: Female


Posted: May 30, 2021 - 7:02am

 Manbird wrote:
La Vida Roja

Sometimes we call it the red life - la vida roja -
When we walk with our backs to the sun
And our paint never dries
Sometimes we breath with our eyes
Sometimes we breath on our own
We dangle in the deep cello hollow
Like small cotton
Like wicked rags

So feed this mouth with a deep soul kiss
Then sew it shut with steel and twine
We are chronographs winding down
We are Kings and Queens of Emptiness
So many halls to careen
So little rice to digest
Such slow raven into the ink
And alabaster lamb to the soil
We have crimson strain and ruby pull

To carry our freight in the red red rain
Fear is the name of our chemical push
It drives us across these plains
And then wash hands
And then wash hands
And then wash hands
And then wash hands

This red life is mostly fever and sleep
And although we never seem to sleep
We can dream with our knives
In the image of the bull
When we wake we smell like wolves
We sign each other with dirty fingers
Finger the signals in our twisted hairs
In hospital white we shine

This is the trinity of my own red life:
Time - fueled by a mandelbrot set
Mind - the electric feedback juice of a hinge
Body - a manhole cover just balanced up high
I devour silence with my own sweet silence
Feeding between the walls away from the light
I become beast and buck at my night
I cover my mirrors and clocks

With a dull blue gaze and one new scar
I sit next to you and touch your hand
There is no kinesis and little speech
While you allow me to collapse
Then you lift me like a memory
Like a well-adjusted cat
I believe I'm on the railroad tracks
With my back to the sun again

by Rob Diebold






Manbird

Manbird Avatar

Location: Owl Creek Bridge
Gender: Male


Posted: May 29, 2021 - 7:15pm

La Vida Roja

Sometimes we call it the red life - la vida roja -
When we walk with our backs to the sun
And our paint never dries
Sometimes we breath with our eyes
Sometimes we breath on our own
We dangle in the deep cello hollow
Like small cotton
Like wicked rags

So feed this mouth with a deep soul kiss
Then sew it shut with steel and twine
We are chronographs winding down
We are Kings and Queens of Emptiness
So many halls to careen
So little rice to digest
Such slow raven into the ink
And alabaster lamb to the soil
We have crimson strain and ruby pull

To carry our freight in the red red rain
Fear is the name of our chemical push
It drives us across these plains
And then wash hands
And then wash hands
And then wash hands
And then wash hands

This red life is mostly fever and sleep
And although we never seem to sleep
We can dream with our knives
In the image of the bull
When we wake we smell like wolves
We sign each other with dirty fingers
Finger the signals in our twisted hairs
In hospital white we shine

This is the trinity of my own red life:
Time - fueled by a mandelbrot set
Mind - the electric feedback juice of a hinge
Body - a manhole cover just balanced up high
I devour silence with my own sweet silence
Feeding between the walls away from the light
I become beast and buck at my night
I cover my mirrors and clocks

With a dull blue gaze and one new scar
I sit next to you and touch your hand
There is no kinesis and little speech
While you allow me to collapse
Then you lift me like a memory
Like a well-adjusted cat
I believe I'm on the railroad tracks
With my back to the sun again

by Rob Diebold


GeneP59

GeneP59 Avatar

Location: On the edge of tomorrow looking back at yesterday.
Gender: Male


Posted: May 23, 2021 - 5:09pm

On the forgotten penning mind of Dotman
the whimsical insight of the here and now
with a gentle laugh or a teary-eyed reader
acknowledgment in the word I bow.
but where have thou gone
have you written your last gasp to humanity? 
I hope that not the case
for in times like this
we could use a change of pace. 

Me 
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