|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Jan 22, 2007 11:10 am
Eloisa to Abelard by Alexander Pope
(those of you who have seen the film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind might recognize this... It's an excerpt since the entire poem is extremely long.)
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
"Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;"
Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n,
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n.
Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,
And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes,
For her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins hymeneals sing,
To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away,
And melts in visions of eternal day.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jan 24, 2007 4:48 pm
I like just about any poem from Edgar Allen Poe. I really like Alone and the Raven.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Feb 01, 2007 10:05 pm
CHARLES SUMNER
Garlands upon his grave,
And flowers upon his hearse,
And to the tender heart and brave
The tribute of this verse.
His was the troubled life,
The conflict and the pain,
The grief, the bitterness of strife,
The honor without stain.
Like Winkelried, he took
Into his manly breast
The sheaf of hostile spears, and broke
A path for the oppressed.
Then from the fatal field
Upon a nation's heart
Borne like a warrior on his shield!--
So should the brave depart.
Death takes us by surprise,
And stays our hurrying feet;
The great design unfinished lies,
Our lives are incomplete.
But in the dark unknown
Perfect their circles seem,
Even as a bridge's arch of stone
Is rounded in the stream.
Alike are life and death,
When life in death survives,
And the uninterrupted breath
Inspires a thousand lives.
Were a star quenched on high,
For ages would its light,
Still travelling downward from the sky,
Shine on our mortal sight.
So when a great man dies,
For years beyond our ken,
The light he leaves behind him lies
Upon the paths of men.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 05, 2007 5:59 pm
lurkindarkness Fire and Ice: Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
I have fire and ice as my text tone...when ever it goes off (and it goes off alot) people give me funny looks ^.^
|
|
|
|
|
|
-Technically Broken- Crew
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Mar 06, 2007 5:57 pm
Still I Rise ~ Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 04, 2007 4:43 pm
My son, My executioner
My son, My executioner
I take you in my arms,
Quiet and small and just astir
And whom my body warms,
Sweet death, small son, our instrument
Of immortality,
Your cries and hungers document
Our bodily decay
We twenty-five and twenty-two,
Who seem to live forever
Observe enduring life in you,
And start to die together.
-Donald Hall
And. ^^
The Prophet
Teach me to Love? go teach thy self more wit;
I am chief Professor of it.
Teach craft to Scots, and thrift to Jews,
Teach boldness to the Stews;
In tyrants courts teach supple flattery,
Teach Jesuits, that have traveled far, to Lye.
Teach fire to burn and Winds to blow.
Teach restless Fountains how to flow,
Teach the dull earth, fixt, to abide,
Teach Woman-kind inconstancy and Pride.
See if your diligence here will useful prove;
But, pr'ithee, teach not me to love.
The God of Love, if such a thing there be,
May learn to love from me,
He who does boast that he has bin,
In every Heart since Adams sin,
I'll lay my Life, nay Mistress on't, that's more;
I'll teach him things he never knew before;
I'll teach him a receipt to make
Words that weep, and Tears that speak,
I'll teach him Sighs, like those in death,
At which the Souls go out too with the breath;
Still the Soul stays, yet still does from me run;
As Light and Heat does with the Sun.
'Tis I who Love's Columbus am; 'tis I, Who must new Worlds in it descry;
Rich Worlds, that yield of Treasure more,
than that has been known before,
And yet like his (I fear) my fate must be,
To find them out for others; not for Me.
Me Times to come, I know it, shall
Loves last and greatest prophet call.
But, ah, what's that, if she refuse,
To hear the whole doctrines of my Muse?
If to my share the Prophets fate must come;
Hereafter fame, here Martyrdome.
-Abraham Cowley
{this one's from the movie actually. ^^ }
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jul 13, 2007 11:22 pm
A Poison Tree I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine -
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree -William Blake
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Sep 10, 2007 4:26 pm
"once on a yellow piece of paper,
he wrote a poem
and he called it "chops"
because that was the name of his dog.
and that's what it was about
and his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
and his mother hung it on he door
and read it to his aunts
that was the year father tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
and let them sing on the bus
that was the year his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
and his mother and father kissed a lot
" and the girl around the corner sent him a
valentine signed with a row of x's
and he had to ask his father what the x's meant
and his father always tucked him in at night
and was always there to do it
once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem called "autumn"
because that was the name of the season
and that's what it was all about
and his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
and the kids told him
that father tracy smoked cigars
and left butts on the pews
and sometimes they would burn holes
that was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
and the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see santa claus
and the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
and his father never tucked him in at night
and got mad
when he cried for him to do it
once on a piece of paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
called "innocence; a question"
because that was the question about his girl
and that's what is was all about
and his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
becaue he never showed her
that was the year that father tracy died
and he forgot how the end
of apostle's creed went
and he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
and his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
and the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
that made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
and at three a.m he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly
that's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
and he called it "absolutely nothing"
becaue that's what it was really about
and he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
and he hung it on that bathroom door
because he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen -- Unknown Author. Also seen in the book The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
[I hope this isn't too long. Sorry if I spam you!]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
