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Index »
Radio Paradise/General »
General Discussion »
Poetry
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Page: Previous 1, 2, 3 Next |
oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Oct 20, 2011 - 9:14am |
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10-20-11 Dear Diary
This morning before the paper came and the dog went I inhaled a blast of crisp October air and stepped to the cold gate between Myself and a beeline to the coffee pusher From there I nursed the paper cup and little truck through empty streets Downtown, where the long black awning beckoned my brush. The water chapped my hands in the brisk morning chill, and the soapy Mist smelled of apples; or maybe pears. I enjoyed the moment when, some two hours later, after finishing my work, I looked to the eastern horizon And warmed myself with the knowledge of standing in the sun for at least one more day.
b
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meower
Location: i believe, i believe, it's silly, but I believe Gender:
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Posted:
Oct 20, 2011 - 9:00am |
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What the Living Do | | by Marie Howe |
| Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there.
And the Drano won't work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up
waiting for the plumber I still haven't called. This is the everyday we spoke of.
It's winter again: the sky's a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through
the open living-room windows because the heat's on too high in here and I can't turn it off.
For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,
I've been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those
wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,
I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.
What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want
whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss-we want more and more and then more of it.
But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,
say, the window of the corner video store, and I'm gripped by a cherishing so deep
for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I'm speechless:
I am living. I remember you. |
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hobiejoe
Location: Still in the tunnel, looking for the light. Gender:
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Posted:
Aug 24, 2011 - 3:56pm |
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MrsHobieJoe wrote:for Melissa although I'm not so sure that a limerick wouldn't have been more her thing. With credit to OV I (I think?) for introducing me to the poem. . . Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. I read this while listening to Joni. Beautiful combination, thank you darling And thank you Melissa for all the laughs and the arse-kicking
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MrsHobieJoe
Location: somewhere in Europe Gender:
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Posted:
Aug 24, 2011 - 1:49pm |
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for Melissa although I'm not so sure that a limerick wouldn't have been more her thing. With credit to OV I (I think?) for introducing me to the poem. . . Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
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Alexandra
Location: PNW Gender:
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Posted:
Jan 3, 2011 - 8:16pm |
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This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they're a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of it's furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond. —Rumi
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Painted_Turtle
Location: Land of Laughing Waters Gender:
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Posted:
Oct 25, 2010 - 10:38am |
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Visiting Tea Master Li On An Autumn Evening by Ken Cohen Climbing the narrow trail That winds along the edge of the mountain, Blowing fog hides and reveals The storied landscape.
Small cascades make trails Along the granite face; Majestic pines fill my Senses with peace.
From somewhere, the cry Of a hawk pierces the void.
I wander all day, Stopping occasionally, Leaning on my aspen branch Walking stick to enjoy the scene, Until as shadows lengthen I see your hut, hiding among The wood and grasses.
Your door is open And already the coals Are glowing in the brazier. How touching, an old friend's kindness. After exchanging pleasantries, You pour water into the peach-shaped pot Of purple sand, surely Shou Lao, The God of Immortality, is smiling.
The fragrance of Monkey-picked Tie Guanyin, Is autumnal and refreshing. (I wonder at the risk you take As you, the monkey, clamber up The steep slopes to gather the wild leaves.)
One taste and all knowledge is forgotten; Flavor returns, sweet burgundy Coats the sides of my tongue, Fills the palate and spreads Until my whole being is Taste and scent. More steepings, Autumn deepens. Each cup Brings me closer to the cliffs, Until I am the earth, the leaves, The mist, the mountain itself. Did I walk the mountains, Or were the mountains walking?
The next morning, awakening to a clear dawn, You accompany me to the edge Of your mountain paradise. Now I can see how your home is a dragon's Lair resting among the twisting Folds of gray peaks under a jade sky. No need to mention the frost at our temples— Who knows how many years will pass, Or if we will ever meet again? But hasn't this always been The Way of Tea-to experience Each moment as complete in itself.
We pour the same tea
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(former member)
Location: hotel in Las Vegas Gender:
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Posted:
Jan 16, 2010 - 3:18pm |
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Manbird wrote: hey, thanks, man.
You deserve it... you have more talent as a poet than most university professors who teach it...
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Manbird
Location: ? ? ? Gender:
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Posted:
Jan 16, 2010 - 3:00pm |
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romeotuma wrote:
Dude, I want you to know I am not being the slightest bit supercilious when I say this— you are a hellacious poet... you have two major gifts of a great poet— you are vivid, and you are original... I am in awe of just the raw talent alone, and I mean it...
hey, thanks, man.
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(former member)
Location: hotel in Las Vegas Gender:
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Posted:
Jan 16, 2010 - 2:09pm |
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Manbird wrote:#13
Dude, I want you to know I am not being the slightest bit supercilious when I say this— you are a hellacious poet... you have two major gifts of a great poet— you are vivid, and you are original... I am in awe of just the raw talent alone, and I mean it...
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Manbird
Location: ? ? ? Gender:
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Posted:
Jan 16, 2010 - 1:37pm |
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#13
I to savage mustachio I to kill the one of man I to movement head hung low I of the mustachio of the wax I to mount the savage red we to tie the cord we to eat the food I to wine the apple dry I to apple scorpion serpent mordedura necessity one bath one fruit and one bed I to the bed and to habitat go to sweat inside the dream I to stink out when I sleep I to lie and I to lay I to the shit-hulled shameboat sink I to the brown and we to the deep
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sirdroseph
Location: Not here, I tell you wat Gender:
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Posted:
Jan 16, 2010 - 7:59am |
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I noticed there are some Austin TX. members here; anyone ever hear of the poet "Crackhead?"
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triskele
Location: The Dragons' Roost
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Posted:
Jan 10, 2010 - 1:15pm |
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MrsHobieJoe wrote:I'm going to pop that lovely poem that Old Violin lead me to in here as well:
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
one of my lifetime favorites...thank you for posting!
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MrsHobieJoe
Location: somewhere in Europe Gender:
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Posted:
Jan 10, 2010 - 12:13pm |
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I'm going to pop that lovely poem that Old Violin lead me to in here as well:
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
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MrsHobieJoe
Location: somewhere in Europe Gender:
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Posted:
Jan 10, 2010 - 12:07pm |
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samiyam wrote:The Definition of Love
My Love of a birth as rare As 'tis for object strange and high: It was begotten by Despair Upon Impossibility.
Magnanimous Despair alone Could show me so divine a thing, Where feeble Hope could ne'er have flown But vainly flapped its Tinsel wing.
And yet I quickly might arrive Where my extended soul is fixt, But Fate does iron wedges drive, And always crowds itself betwixt.
For Fate with jealous eye does see Two perfect Loves; nor lets them close: Their union would her ruin be, And her tyrannic power depose.
And therefore her decrees of steel Us as the distant Poles have placed, (Though Love's whole World on us doth wheel) Not by themselves to be embraced.
Unless the giddy Heaven fall, And Earth some new convulsion tear; And, us to join, the World should all Be cramped into a planisphere.
As lines so Loves oblique may well Themselves in every angle greet: But ours so truly parallel, Though infinite can never meet.
Therefore the Love which us doth bind, But Fate so enviously debars, Is the conjunction of the Mind, And opposition of the Stars.
~ Andrew Marvell ~
Marvell-
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MrsHobieJoe
Location: somewhere in Europe Gender:
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Posted:
Jan 10, 2010 - 12:04pm |
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THE BAIT. by John Donne
COME live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines and silver hooks.
There will the river whisp'ring run Warm'd by thy eyes, more than the sun ; And there th' enamour'd fish will stay, Begging themselves they may betray.
When thou wilt swim in that live bath, Each fish, which every channel hath, Will amorously to thee swim, Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.
If thou, to be so seen, be'st loth, By sun or moon, thou dark'nest both, And if myself have leave to see, I need not their light, having thee.
Let others freeze with angling reeds, And cut their legs with shells and weeds, Or treacherously poor fish beset, With strangling snare, or windowy net.
Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest The bedded fish in banks out-wrest ; Or curious traitors, sleeve-silk flies, Bewitch poor fishes' wand'ring eyes.
For thee, thou need'st no such deceit, For thou thyself art thine own bait : That fish, that is not catch'd thereby, Alas ! is wiser far than I.
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oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Sep 27, 2008 - 1:39pm |
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This might be the one you want, then.
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stewliscious
Location: northGA Gender:
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Posted:
Sep 27, 2008 - 1:36pm |
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oldviolin wrote:You might also find this thread interesting, Stew. Thanks oldviolin all I was trying to do was see new haiku
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oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Sep 26, 2008 - 5:39pm |
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You might also find this thread interesting, Stew.
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stewliscious
Location: northGA Gender:
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Posted:
Sep 26, 2008 - 5:31pm |
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What the hell happened? My haiku posted four times I'm incompetent
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stewliscious
Location: northGA Gender:
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Posted:
Sep 26, 2008 - 5:25pm |
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Where are the haiku? So simple yet so profound Less poem is more
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