saemo Posted May 9, 2014 Share Posted May 9, 2014 (edited) First stanza of "Pale Fire", Vladimir Nabokov:I was the shadow of the waxwing slainBy the false azure in the windowpaneI was the smudge of ashen fluff--and ILived on, flew on, in the reflected sky,And from the inside, too, I'd duplicateMyself, my lamp, an apple on a plate:Uncurtaining the night, I'd let dark glassHang all the furniture above the grass,And how delightful when a fall of snowCovered my glimpse of lawn and reached up soAs to make chair and bed exactly standUpon that snow, out in that crystal land!We had Cedar Waxwings in our trees a few days ago, which brought to mind Nabokov's "waxwing slain by the false azure".Please, add your favorite poems! Remember copyright restrictions, which allow only snippets of copyrighted material. Edited May 9, 2014 by saemo 2 Link to comment
The Nehor Posted May 9, 2014 Share Posted May 9, 2014 I wake, reluctantToo cold to get out of bedBut I need to pee -Unknown Link to comment
saemo Posted May 9, 2014 Author Share Posted May 9, 2014 I wake, reluctantToo cold to get out of bedBut I need to pee -UnknownSneekin' in haiku. Link to comment
seed Posted May 9, 2014 Share Posted May 9, 2014 https://www.lds.org/scriptures/ot/ps/23?lang=eng Psalms 23 Link to comment
The Nehor Posted May 9, 2014 Share Posted May 9, 2014 (edited) One that fits the theme of the board: All of these straw menTogether must constituteA huge fire hazard. And for my new neighbors moving in: Lord, please bless that homeand all the crazy peoplewho are moving in. And my deep cynicism: I have heard it saidthat love makes the world go 'round.The days seem longer. Edited May 9, 2014 by The Nehor Link to comment
saemo Posted May 9, 2014 Author Share Posted May 9, 2014 https://www.lds.org/scriptures/ot/ps/23?lang=eng Psalms 23Psalms are the best. Psalm 63:2O God, you are my God—it is you I seek!For you my body yearns;for you my soul thirsts,In a land parched, lifeless,and without water. Link to comment
saemo Posted May 9, 2014 Author Share Posted May 9, 2014 One that fits the theme of the board: All of these straw menTogether must constituteA huge fire hazard. And for my new neighbors moving in: Lord, please bless that homeand all the crazy peoplewho are moving in. And my deep cynicism: I have heard it saidthat love makes the world go 'round.The days seem longer. Link to comment
volgadon Posted May 9, 2014 Share Posted May 9, 2014 First stanza of "Pale Fire", Vladimir Nabokov:I was the shadow of the waxwing slainBy the false azure in the windowpaneI was the smudge of ashen fluff--and ILived on, flew on, in the reflected sky,And from the inside, too, I'd duplicateMyself, my lamp, an apple on a plate:Uncurtaining the night, I'd let dark glassHang all the furniture above the grass,And how delightful when a fall of snowCovered my glimpse of lawn and reached up soAs to make chair and bed exactly standUpon that snow, out in that crystal land!We had Cedar Waxwings in our trees a few days ago, which brought to mind Nabokov's "waxwing slain by the false azure".Please, add your favorite poems! Remember copyright restrictions, which allow only snippets of copyrighted material. I could post a Nabokov poem in Russian... Muahahaha. Link to comment
saemo Posted May 9, 2014 Author Share Posted May 9, 2014 (edited) I could post a Nabokov poem in Russian... Muahahaha.That is one of the amazing things about "Pale Fire". Nabokov uses the English language, not his native, in ways that 99% of native speakers could never hope to match. I can't imagine his works in Russian. Edited May 9, 2014 by saemo Link to comment
bluebell Posted May 9, 2014 Share Posted May 9, 2014 Two of my favorite poems: Ozymandias I MET a Traveler from an antique land, Who said, "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read, Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is OZYMANDIAS, King of Kings." Look on my works ye Mighty, and despair! No thing beside remains. Round the decay Of that Colossal Wreck, boundless and bare, The lone and level sands stretch far away. Daffodils I wandered lonely as a cloudThat floats on high o'er vales and hills,When all at once I saw a crowd,A host, of golden daffodils;Beside the lake, beneath the trees,Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.Continuous as the stars that shineAnd twinkle on the milky way,They stretched in never-ending lineAlong the margin of a bay:Ten thousand saw I at a glance,Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.The waves beside them danced; but theyOut-did the sparkling waves in glee:A poet could not but be gay,In such a jocund company:I gazed—and gazed—but little thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had brought:For oft, when on my couch I lieIn vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils. 2 Link to comment
volgadon Posted May 9, 2014 Share Posted May 9, 2014 Bluebell, I used to have Ozymandias memorised. Link to comment
volgadon Posted May 9, 2014 Share Posted May 9, 2014 That is one of the amazing things about "Pale Fire". Nabokov uses the English language, not his native, in ways that 99% of native speakers could never hope to match. I can't imagine his works in Russian. His father was an Anglophile, so Nabokov was taught English from a very early age, had English tutors, and after the Revolution, studied in England. He had an amazing education, but of course that doesn't take away from his genius one whit. I find it more incredible that his command of Russian was as good as it was. Link to comment
Okrahomer Posted May 10, 2014 Share Posted May 10, 2014 (edited) Journey of a Blind Grandmother, EndingMARILYN MCMEEN MILLER BROWNGrowing old, I hear bees(Or is it light?)—I hear buzzing bees.Outside of my hands there is light,I remember—purple dragonfliesTurning a thousand pointed mirrors,Golden buttercups refracted by rain,My mother’s shadowy hands on my brow.Shadows like those hands cover my eyes, A dark rippling silkDrawing inner circles of sunWhere the buttercups wakeAlong the smooth crevasOf my mind behindA smoky lens that breaks light,Makes geometry of the sun.Suddenly a shadowy angelDraws circles, draws me inWhere I may sleepAnd wakeAnd, for the first time,See. Edited May 10, 2014 by Okrahomer 1 Link to comment
saemo Posted May 10, 2014 Author Share Posted May 10, 2014 (edited) Auguries of Innocence, by William Blake (ending)Every Night & every MornSome to Misery are Born Every Morn and every NightSome are Born to sweet delight Some are Born to sweet delight Some are Born to Endless Night We are led to Believe a LieWhen we see not Thro the EyeWhich was Born in a Night to perish in a Night When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light God Appears & God is LightTo those poor Souls who dwell in Night But does a Human Form DisplayTo those who Dwell in Realms of day Edited May 10, 2014 by saemo 2 Link to comment
Stargazer Posted May 10, 2014 Share Posted May 10, 2014 I wrote this in 1968, while I was in High School: If I were a toadAnd sat in a roadI'd probably getrun over. 3 Link to comment
WysteriaBlue Posted May 11, 2014 Share Posted May 11, 2014 Someone in this forum posted this poem by Max Ehrmann...I really liked it and hope they will forgive me for not giving them their due.. Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly, and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment; it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. ©1927 Max Ehrmann (renewed) Bell & Son publishing, LLC Link to comment
Bill “Papa” Lee Posted May 12, 2014 Share Posted May 12, 2014 You can click on "My Poetry Blog" in my signature line and find a lot of good ones...just ignore those by William Lee, the guys a hack. I have some by John Doone...great poet. Edwin Markham is my favorite poet. Link to comment
saemo Posted May 15, 2014 Author Share Posted May 15, 2014 You can click on "My Poetry Blog" in my signature line and find a lot of good ones...just ignore those by William Lee, the guys a hack. I have some by John Doone...great poet. Edwin Markham is my favorite poet.I like your poetry blog. Thanks for pointing it out. Link to comment
saemo Posted May 15, 2014 Author Share Posted May 15, 2014 Someone in this forum posted this poem by Max Ehrmann...I really liked it and hope they will forgive me for not giving them their due.. Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly, and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment; it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. ©1927 Max Ehrmann (renewed) Bell & Son publishing, LLCHa, that was me. The title of this poem is Desiderata. I actually came across it in my atheist years and found it inspiring. I still like it but am more inspired by Christian poetry, particularly those of Catholic mystics. Link to comment
saemo Posted May 15, 2014 Author Share Posted May 15, 2014 "The Dark Night", by St. John of the Cross, from "Ascent of Mount Carmel"A song of the soul's happiness in having passed through the dark night of faith, in nakedness and purgation, to union with its Beloved. One dark night, fired with love's urgent longings - ah, the sheer grace! - I went out unseen, my house being now all stilled. In darkness, and secure, by the secret ladder, disguised, - ah, the sheer grace! - in darkness and concealment, my house being now all stilled. On that glad night in secret, for no one saw me, nor did I look at anything with no other light or guide than the One that burned in my heart. This guided me more surely than the light of noon to where he was awaiting me - him I knew so well - there in a place where no one appeared. O guiding night! O night more lovely than the dawn! O night that has united the Lover with his beloved, transforming the Beloved into his Lover. Upon my flowering breast, which I kept wholly for him alone, there he lay sleeping, and I caressing him there in a breeze from the fanning cedars. When the breeze blew from the turret, as I parted his hair, it wounded my neck with its gentle hand, suspending all my senses. I abandoned and forgot myself, laying my face on my Beloved; all things ceased; I went out from myself, leaving my cares forgotten among the lilies. Link to comment
WysteriaBlue Posted May 15, 2014 Share Posted May 15, 2014 Saemo was kind enough to remind me that he had indeed posted the poem I quoted earlier! Thanks!! I knew it resonated, and had indeed seen it before myself but forgotten....wonderful! Desiderata Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals;and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself.Especially, do not feign affection.Neither be critical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;you have a right to be here.And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be,and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy. © Max Ehrmann 1927 Link to comment
WysteriaBlue Posted May 15, 2014 Share Posted May 15, 2014 Saemo was kind enough to remind me that he had indeed posted the poem I quoted earlier! Thanks!! I knew it resonated, and had indeed seen it before myself but forgotten....wonderful! Desiderata Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals;and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself.Especially, do not feign affection.Neither be critical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;you have a right to be here.And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be,and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy. © Max Ehrmann 1927 Link to comment
Walden Posted May 15, 2014 Share Posted May 15, 2014 His father was an Anglophile, so Nabokov was taught English from a very early age, had English tutors, and after the Revolution, studied in England. He had an amazing education, but of course that doesn't take away from his genius one whit. I find it more incredible that his command of Russian was as good as it was.Whatever the origin of his genius regarding his absolute command of the English language, I have no doubts that Nabokov could write a short story about navel lint and make it seem the most beautiful thing ever encountered....that man was pure genius. From the greatest book of poetry ever written, Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass, the opening stanzas of Song of Myself: 1I celebrate myself;And what I assume you shall assume;For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you.I loafe and invite my Soul;I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of summer grass.Houses and rooms are full of perfumes—the shelves are crowded with perfumes;I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it;The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.The atmosphere is not a perfume—it has no taste of the distillation—it is odorless;It is for my mouth forever—I am in love with it;I will go to the bank by the wood, and become undisguised and naked;I am mad for it to be in contact with me.2The smoke of my own breath;Echoes, ripples, buzz’d whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine;My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs;The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore, and dark-color’d sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn;The sound of the belch’d words of my voice, words loos’d to the eddies of the wind;A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms;The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag;The delight alone, or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides;The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much?Have you practis’d so long to learn to read?Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?Stop this day and night with me, and you shall possess the origin of all poems;You shall possess the good of the earth and sun—(there are millions of suns left;)You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books;You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me:You shall listen to all sides, and filter them from yourself. 1 Link to comment
thesometimesaint Posted May 15, 2014 Share Posted May 15, 2014 Sounds of Silenceby Simon and Garfunkle Hello darkness, my old friendI've come to talk with you againBecause a vision softly creepingLeft its seeds while I was sleepingAnd the vision that was planted in my brainStill remainsWithin the sound of silenceIn restless dreams I walked aloneNarrow streets of cobblestone'Neath the halo of a street lampI turned my collar to the cold and dampWhen my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon lightThat split the nightAnd touched the sound of silenceAnd in the naked light I sawTen thousand people, maybe morePeople talking without speakingPeople hearing without listeningPeople writing songs that voices never shareAnd no one daredDisturb the sound of silence"Fools", said I, "You do not knowSilence like a cancer growsHear my words that I might teach youTake my arms that I might reach you"But my words, like silent raindrops fellAnd echoedIn the wells of silenceAnd the people bowed and prayedTo the neon god they madeAnd the sign flashed out its warning In the words that it was forming And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls And tenement halls" And whispered in the sounds of silence 1 Link to comment
Bill “Papa” Lee Posted May 16, 2014 Share Posted May 16, 2014 Sounds of Silenceby Simon and Garfunkle Hello darkness, my old friendI've come to talk with you againBecause a vision softly creepingLeft its seeds while I was sleepingAnd the vision that was planted in my brainStill remainsWithin the sound of silenceIn restless dreams I walked aloneNarrow streets of cobblestone'Neath the halo of a street lampI turned my collar to the cold and dampWhen my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon lightThat split the nightAnd touched the sound of silenceAnd in the naked light I sawTen thousand people, maybe morePeople talking without speakingPeople hearing without listeningPeople writing songs that voices never shareAnd no one daredDisturb the sound of silence"Fools", said I, "You do not knowSilence like a cancer growsHear my words that I might teach youTake my arms that I might reach you"But my words, like silent raindrops fellAnd echoedIn the wells of silenceAnd the people bowed and prayedTo the neon god they madeAnd thesign flashed out its warning In the words that it was forming And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls And tenement halls" And whispered in the sounds of silenceOne of the greatest songs of "All" time! Another great one is in my sig line by Joni Mitchell. Then "I Am, I Said"...by Neal Diamond. Link to comment
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