Great site. It's funny, it took The Smiths to get me to read poetry:
A dreaded sunny day
so I meet you at the cemetery gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
A dreaded sunny day
so I meet you at the cemetery gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
while Wilde is on mine
So we go inside and we gravely read the stones
all those people all those lives
where are they now?
with the loves and hates
and passions just like mine
they were born
and then they lived and then they died
seems so unfair
and I want to cry
You say: "ere thrice the sun done salutation to the dawn"
and you claim these words as your own
but I've read well, and I've heard them said
a hundred times, maybe less, maybe more
If you must write prose and poems
the words you use should be your own
don't plagiarise or take "on loans"
there's always someone, somewhere
with a big nose, who knows
and who trips you up and laughs
when you fall
who'll trip you up and laugh
when you fall
You say: "ere long done do does did"
words which could only be your own
and then you then produce the text
from whence was ripped some dizzy whore, 1804
A dreaded sunny day
so let's go where we're happy
and I meet you at the cemetery gates
Oh Keats and Yeats are on your side
A dreaded sunny day
so let's go where we're wanted
and I meet you at the cemetery gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
but you lose because Wilde is on mine
My favorite's always been Pablo Neruda.
Walt Whitman, "Song of the Open Road"
I'll just give you a taste:
From this hour, freedom!
From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master, total and absolute, 55
Listening to others, and considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.
I get this blank card at Barnes & Nobles, with the grey scene of a man sweeping the streets on a rainy day. Just lovely! I give this card to people, at times, when I want to speak to their hearts.
It's a grand poem. It's a wonderful piece.
Just watch for the pop up spam on their site.
Why do webmasters still insist on ruining their sites with popup rubbish advertising animated cursors, screensavers and all that dross, do they seriously expect to make any money from it? I can't believe it for a second.
Popups are so 90's spam.
I once visited a site on the net
that promised so much for a budding poet
Alas it was riddled with pop ups
So I didn't go there again.
Never.
Ever.
The End.
Wonderful archive thanks for the information .
No problem Slippenol.
It's nice to get lost in poetry once in a while.
The snow
It falls
It covers
It blows
It refreshes
It makes the world clean
It is
It wonderfull
Redwolf
1-31-09
Rocco... thanks for the Neruda recommendation. The sonnet is one of the most beautiful art forms there is.
Look up all his stuff. He's my favorite poet.
She Walks in Beauty
by Lord Bryon
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that wins, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
"Love all, trust a few, and do wrong to none."
Great poem Z nice and sweet
