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Thread: Poets and Poetry

  1. #1
    Something clever... bu11itt's Avatar
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    Poets and Poetry

    A post I made in the "vibe badge" thread got me thinking (dangerous proposition). As my brain is often so inclined, I was led down a meandering, circuitous path that often doubles back and side-tracks chasing more than its fair share of rabbits. Ultimately I stopped and lingered on the writings of my favorite poet...

    "Grief thief of time crawls off,
    The moon-drawn grave, with the seafaring years,
    The knave of pain steals off
    The sea-halved faith that blew time to his knees,
    The old forget the cries,
    Lean time on tide and times the wind stood rough..."

    Those are of course the words of Dylan Thomas. From the aforementioned, "Grief thief of time", to "Oh make me a mask" past "The hand that signs the paper" all the way to the ubiquitous "Do not go gentle into that good night" his works have always transfixed and astonished me. I even chose my favorite, "Grief thief of time" to place on the back of the programs at my father's funeral. I can not really explain it, but reading his words twist the very sinew of my soul.

    Now I realize this won't be as raucous as the "chat thread", as mouth-watering as the "food" thread our get near the traction or interest of the "whiskey" or "beer" thread; but I'm interested in the poetic thoughts of the board. Your favorite poem, favorite stanza, favorite line, favorite poet or even some works of your own (if you are so inclined as I understand poems can be very personal).

    "The hand that signed the paper felled a city;
    Five sovereign fingers taxed the breath,
    Doubled the globe of dead and halved a country;
    These five kings did a king to death"
    Chris:

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  3. #2
    Another Member crownpuller's Avatar
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    Traditional classic poetry leaves me cold (in the most part); but, John Cooper Clarke's poems (generally) strike a chord with me.

    Arguably his best piece, Beasley Street:

    Far from crazy pavements -
    the taste of silver spoons
    A clinical arrangement
    on a dirty afternoon
    Where the fecal germs of Mr Freud
    are rendered obsolete
    The legal term is null and void
    In the case of Beasley Street

    In the cheap seats where murder breeds
    Somebody is out of breath
    Sleep is a luxury they don't need
    - a sneak preview of death
    Belladonna is your flower
    Manslaughter your meat
    Spend a year in a couple of hours
    On the edge of Beasley Street


    Where the action isn't
    That's where it is
    State your position
    Vacancies exist
    In an X-certificate exercise
    Ex-servicemen excrete
    Keith Joseph smiles and a baby dies
    In a box on Beasley Street

    From the boarding houses and the bedsits
    Full of accidents and fleas
    Somebody gets it
    Where the missing persons freeze
    Wearing dead men's overcoats
    You can't see their feet
    A riff joint shuts - opens up
    Right down on Beasley Street

    Cars collide, colours clash
    disaster movie stuff
    For a man with a Fu Manchu moustache
    Revenge is not enough
    There's a dead canary on a swivel seat
    There's a rainbow in the road
    Meanwhile on Beasley Street
    Silence is the code

    Hot beneath the collar
    an inspector calls
    Where the perishing stink of squalor
    impregnates the walls
    the rats have all got rickets
    they spit through broken teeth
    The name of the game is not cricket
    Caught out on Beasley Street

    The hipster and his hired hat
    Drive a borrowed car
    Yellow socks and a pink cravat
    Nothing La-di-dah
    OAP, mother to be
    Watch the three-piece suite
    When shit-stoppered drains
    and crocodile skis
    are seen on Beasley Street

    The kingdom of the blind
    a one-eyed man is king
    Beauty problems are redefined
    the doorbells do not ring
    A lightbulb bursts like a blister
    the only form of heat
    here a fellow sells his sister
    down the river on Beasley Street

    The boys are on the wagon
    The girls are on the shelf
    Their common problem is
    that they're not someone else
    The dirt blows out
    The dust blows in
    You can't keep it neat
    It's a fully furnished dustbin,
    Sixteen Beasley Street

    Vince the ageing savage
    Betrays no kind of life
    but the smell of yesterday's cabbage
    and the ghost of last year's wife
    through a constant haze
    of deodorant sprays
    he says retreat
    Alsations dog the dirty days
    down the middle of Beasley Street

    People turn to poison
    Quick as lager turns to piss
    Sweethearts are physically sick
    every time they kiss.
    It's a sociologist's paradise
    each day repeats
    On easy, cheesy, greasy, queasy
    beastly Beasley Street

    Eyes dead as vicious fish
    Look around for laughs
    If I could have just one wish
    I would be a photograph
    on a permanent Monday morning
    Get lost or fall asleep
    When the yellow cats are yawning
    Around the back of Beasley Street
    Some people have opinions - The rest of us have taste.

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  5. #3
    MWC is that my watch's Avatar
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    SONNET 116


    Let me not to the marriage of true minds
    Admit impediments. Love is not love
    Which alters when it alteration finds,
    Or bends with the remover to remove:
    O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
    That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
    It is the star to every wandering bark,
    Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
    Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
    Within his bending sickle's compass come;
    Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
    But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
    If this be error and upon me proved,
    I never writ, nor no man ever loved.




    this has always been a Favorited of mine
    one night I dreamed I was locked in my fathers watch, with Ptolemy and twenty one ruby stars mounted on spheres and the primum mobile coiled and gleaming to the end of space and the notched spheres eating each other's rinds to the last tooth of time and the case closed - John Ciardi ...

    https://emgwatches.com/
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    ЖИЗНЬ НЕ ОСТАНАВЛИВАЕТСЯ, ПРОХОДИТ ТОЛЬКО ВРЕМЯ.
    Russian Watches



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  7. #4
    I was once waiting in a hospital for a blood test, clutching ticket number 31. I was there so long I had time to write this on my blackberry



    Not sure I've written anything since
    Last edited by Der Amf; Apr 28, 2015 at 06:54 PM.

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  9. #5
    wind-up merchant OhDark30's Avatar
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    Mid-August at Sourdough Mountain Lookout
    BY GARY SNYDER

    Down valley a smoke haze
    Three days heat, after five days rain
    Pitch glows on the fir-cones
    Across rocks and meadows
    Swarms of new flies.

    I cannot remember things I once read
    A few friends, but they are in cities.
    Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup
    Looking down for miles
    Through high still air.


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  11. #6
    Something clever... bu11itt's Avatar
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    I realized I didn't post the entire poem, only the first little bit that I always quote to myself in my head. So here's the whole thing.

    Grief Thief of Time
    - Dylan Thomas

    Grief thief of time crawls off,
    The moon-drawn grave, with the seafaring years,
    The knave of pain steals off
    The sea-halved faith that blew time to his knees,
    The old forget the cries,
    Lean time on tide and times the wind stood rough,
    Call back the castaways
    Riding the sea light on a sunken path,
    The old forget the grief,
    Hack of the cough, the hanging albatross,
    Cast back the bone of youth
    And salt-eyed stumble bedward where she lies
    Who tossed the high tide in a time of stories
    And timelessly lies loving with the thief.

    Now Jack my fathers let the time-faced crook,
    Death flashing from his sleeve,
    With swag of bubbles in a seedy sack
    Sneak down the stallion grave,
    Bull's-eye the outlaw through a eunuch crack
    And free the twin-boxed grief,
    No silver whistles chase him down the weeks'
    Dayed peaks to day to death,
    These stolen bubbles have the bites of snakes
    And the undead eye-teeth,
    No third eye probe into a rainbow's sex
    That bridged the human halves,
    All shall remain and on the graveward gulf
    Shape with my fathers' thieves.

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  13. #7
    Missing manual. BlackNomad's Avatar
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    O Wert Thou In The Cauld Blast


    O wert thou in the cauld blast,
    On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
    My plaidie to the angry airt,
    I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee;
    Or did Misfortune's bitter storms
    Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
    Thy bield should be my bosom,
    To share it a', to share it a'.

    Or were I in the wildest waste,
    Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,
    The desert were a Paradise,
    If thou wert there, if thou wert there;
    Or were I Monarch o' the globe,
    Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign,
    The brightest jewel in my Crown
    Wad be my Queen, wad be my Queen.
    .................................................. ....


    "Happiness is not a state to arrive at, but a manner of travelling." Margaret Lee Runbeck.

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  15. #8
    Moderator - Central tribe125's Avatar
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    Days

    What are days for?
    Days are where we live.
    They come, they wake us
    Time and time over.
    They are to be happy in:
    Where can we live but days?

    Ah, solving that question
    Brings the priest and the doctor
    In their long coats
    Running over the fields.


    (Philip Larkin)

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  17. #9
    Dive Watches & Japanese Moderator OTGabe's Avatar
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    I am all over the map with poetry, but 100 Love Sonnets by Pablo Neruda is the latest that I've purchased.

    Sonnet LXXXI

    And now you're mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.
    Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
    The night turns on its invisible wheels,
    and you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber.

    No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,
    we will go together, over the waters of time.
    No one else will travel through the shadows with me,
    only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.

    Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
    and let their soft drifting signs drop away; your eyes closed like two gray
    wings, and I move

    after, following the folding water you carry, that carries
    me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
    Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.

  18. #10
    The Dude Abides Nokie's Avatar
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    Only one thing made him happy
    And now that it was gone
    Everything made him happy

    Leonard Cohen
    "Either He's Dead, Or My Watch Has Stopped....."
    Groucho Marx

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