Open Thread – #29
Happy Valentine’s Day, Mudflatters!
Here’s one of my favorite poems that seemed to fit today. I wrote this sonnet out and gave it to my first crush on Valentine’s Day when I was in 7th grade. I think it’s safe to say that the recipient did not fully appreciate my token. But you, gentle readers, are a more refined breed, so consider it my Valentine’s Day present to you!
Sonnet #29
by William Shakespeare
When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Feel free to share your favorite poem below. If it’s very long, provide a link instead.
It is also Chinese New Year. Too.
Does it have to be English poetry? If not, this is the most charming Valentine’s day poem I know of:
http://www.subtexttranslations.com/drptp/gorter/gorter.html
(English translations are provided)
Happy Valentine’s Day to all, and most especially to AKM and the mods for their superb efforts at keeping things running smoothly and making The Mudflats so interesting.
Alec Baldwin has a piece up at HuffPo, where he takes on Palin’s palm notes. He believes it was planned in advance………she’s nothing but a puppet.
So, you think Sarah Palin is embarrassed by the crib-notes-on-the-palm incident?
You’re kidding, right?
This woman, like national candidates of both parties, doesn’t draw a breath without a team of political and image consultants vetting her choices. Wardrobe, hair, make-up, speaking style, text, context. This woman hasn’t moved a muscle spontaneously since she was selected as McCain’s running mate.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/alec-baldwin/sarah-palin-faux-populist_b_455331.html
great choice AKM! here’s my favorite poem:-
The Waking
Theodore Roethke [1908-1963]
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
and another, for valentines:
Love Song
How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn’t touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn’t resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin’s bow,
which draws *one* voice out of two separate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.
Rainer Maria Rilke
GreatGranny2C, hope your sister is doing better!
i considered that after hearing Shannyn Moore say something to that effect, but i don’t believe it. i just don’t think she’s that bright. one of her handlers came up with a way for her to make lemonade with the story. she’s got more teflon than brains. or skin, or any organ.
and i’ll be quiet after this, my other favorite poem in the whole wide world:
http://bales-law.com/prufrock.html
The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock, by TS Eliot
Too many choices! I guess my favorite this very minute is “The Song of Hiawatha”, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Here’s just a bit of it.
On the Mountains of the Prairie,
On the great Red Pipe-stone Quarry,
Gitche Manito, the mighty,
He the Master of Life, descending,
On the red crags of the quarry
Stood erect, and called the nations,
Called the tribes of men together.
From his footprints flowed a river,
Leaped into the light of morning,
O’er the precipice plunging downward
Gleamed like Ishkoodah, the comet.
And the Spirit, stooping earthward,
With his finger on the meadow
Traced a winding pathway for it,
Saying to it, “Run in this way!”
From the red stone of the quarry
With his hand he broke a fragment,
Moulded it into a pipe-head,
Shaped and fashioned it with figures;
From the margin of the river
Took a long reed for a pipe-stem,
With its dark green leaves upon it;
Filled the pipe with bark of willow,
With the bark of the red willow;
And, the link:
http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/LonHiaw.html
#7 @barbara
That never fails to bring tears to my eyes.
Here’s my favorite anti-love poem by Adrienne Rich:
Sex, as they harshly call it,
I fell into this morning
at ten o’clock, a drizzling hour
of traffic and wet newspapers.
I thought of him who yesterday
clearly didn’t
turn me to a hot field
ready for plowing,
and longing for that young man
pierced me to the roots
bathing every vein, etc.
All day he appears to me
touchingly desirable,
a prize one could wreck one’s peace for.
I’d call it love if love
didn’t take so many years
but lust too is a jewel
a sweet flower and what
pure happiness to know
all our high-toned questions
breed in a lively animal.
Now I Become Myself
Now I become myself. It’s taken
Time, many years and places;
I have been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other people’s faces,
Run madly, as if Time were there,
Terribly old, crying a warning,
“Hurry, you will be dead before–”
(What? Before you reach the morning?
Or the end of the poem is clear?
Or love safe in the walled city?)
Now to stand still, to be here,
Feel my own weight and density!
The black shadow on the paper
Is my hand; the shadow of a word
As thought shapes the shaper
Falls heavy on the page, is heard.
All fuses now, falls into place
From wish to action, word to silence,
My work, my love, my time, my face
Gathered into one intense
Gesture of growing like a plant.
As slowly as the ripening fruit
Fertile, detached, and always spent,
Falls but does not exhaust the root,
So all the poem is, can give,
Grows in me to become the song,
Made so and rooted by love.
Now there is time and Time is young.
O, in this single hour I live
All of myself and do not move.
I, the pursued, who madly ran,
Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun!
May Sarton
One of my favorite poems is “How Do I Love Thee, Let Me Count The Ways” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Another is “The Wind Beneath My Wings”, although technically not a poem but a song.
You are my husband/wife
My feet shall run because of you
My feet dance because of you
My heart shall beat because of you
My eyes see because of you
My mind thinks because of you
And I shall love because of you
Hold fast to dreams,
For when dreams die,
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams,
For when dreams go,
Life is a barren field,
Frozen with snow.
(Langston Hughes)
Good morning, and Happy Valentines Day, mudpups!
Wonderful poems- I’m adding a brief line from Dr. Seuss:
“Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”
Love Langston Hughes, WakeUpAmerica. Most of my students didn’t know who he was, but after we explored the Jazz Age and Black writers, he became a favorite.
What a lovely thread! But no Edna St. Vincent Millay yet. She was my mother’s favorite poet, and I hope will be one my daughters turn to as well. Another unsentimental poem for Valentine’s Day:
I, being born a woman and distressed
By all the needs and notions of my kind,
Am urged by your propinquity to find
Your person fair, and feel a certain zest
To bear your body’s weight upon my breast:
So subtly is the fume of life designed,
To clarify the pulse and cloud the mind,
And leave me once again undone, possessed.
Think not for this, however, the poor treason
Of my stout blood against my staggering brain,
I shall remember you with love, or season
My scorn wtih pity, — let me make it plain:
I find this frenzy insufficient reason
For conversation when we meet again.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
You Who Never Arrived
You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don’t even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of
the next moment. All the immense
images in me — the far-off, deeply-felt
landscape, cities, towers, and bridges, and
unsuspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods–
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.
You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house– , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me.
Streets that I chanced upon,–
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and,
startled, gave back my too-sudden image.
Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening…
Rainer Maria Rilke
Happy Valentine’s
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VofLbnNronk
Autumn
The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up,
as if orchards were dying high in space.
Each leaf falls as if it were motioning “no.”
And tonight the heavy earth is falling
away from all other stars in the loneliness.
We’re all falling. This hand here is falling.
And look at the other one. It’s in them all.
And yet there is Someone, whose hands
infinitely calm, holding up all this falling.
Rainer Maria Rilke
You fit into me
Like a hook into an eye
A fishhook
An open eye
Margaret Atwood
While on a trip to Colorado one summer, I found Poems on women’s feelings by Susan Polis Shutz—–I want to laugh, I want to cry
She writes
” Music touches feelings
that words can not.
It is the melody of the heart,
the voice
of the Spirit.
It inspires some to think of the past,
some to create
and some to cry.
Music makes me love.
Your heart is my heart
your truth is my truth
your feeling is my feeling
But the real strength of our love
is that we share rather than
control each other’s lives.
When lying beside you
it is strange and away from reality.
I am surrounded by flowers, and you
are all that nature is.
I am so happy with you
I can discuss all my thoughts, or
I don’t have to say anything
You always understand.
I am so relaxed with you
I don’t need to pretend
I don’t need to look good
You accept me for what I am.
I am so strong with you
I depend on you for love
but I live my own life
You give me extra confidence to suceed.
Good morning, all y’all.
Here’s a link (I hope; never done this before) to James Taylor’s Steamroller Blues from 1979. It’s on our Anniversary Mix. Happy Valentine’s Day and also, too Happy Birthday Eve, Happy Hussein, my DH. You betcha!
(Includes one gd and one mf, just so you know. I don’t want to offend anybody.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kfzMLRzH2yw
If I’ve figured this out (been doing some Real Home Schooling this weekend), I may link to a few more love songs from the anniversary mix later.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
My favorite poem is “Kubla Khan” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. I’m a bit of a weirdo, that way. http://etext.virginia.edu/stc/Coleridge/poems/Kubla_Khan.html
And for all the Palinbots, here’s Sonnet 147 for you. Shakespeare could have written this for you:
My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease;
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve,
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are,
At random from the truth vainly express’d;
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
Love, and it’s sometime-partner….loss
Naomi Shihab Nye’s Kindness
“Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things”
http://elise.com/quotes/poetry/naomi.htm
I wrote this for my favorite guy when we dated many years ago:
My heart is going pitter-pat;
I don’t know what’s the matter.
But every time I look at you,
It pits another patter.
In December 2010, we reach our 40th anniversary, so I thank him for marrying me in spite of my poetry!
Happy Valentine’s Day, AKM, and everyone who helps you keep this incredible site going.
Llana
Houston, TX
and from this millennium, our littlebird says this song describes her parents:
Up Up and Away…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_spu8OulbY
Well, thanks to you literary mudflatters, I may just snag one of your poem suggestions and write it inside a blank card!
Just kissed Mr. Terps good-bye and sent him off to work (rehearsals for “Miss Saigon”). They rehearse until 10 and I am going to make a special after work snack for him … a cheese fondue! I’ve never made a fondue before, but I’ve got recipes and yummy dipper ideas including rye bread and naan, roasted veggies (sweet potato, brussels sprouts, parsnip), blanched veggies (broccoli and cauliflower), meat (grilled chicken and lil smokies), radiatore pasta (very al dente) and I’m going to try to pop some large kernal popcorn, see if it will stay on a fondue fork
But I do not have a fondue pot. Anyone have any opinion on sterno vs. electric, ceramic vs. stainless steel?
It’s funny … as he was going out the door, Mr. Terps said “I see a trip to Target in your future”. That was where I was planning to buy the fondue pot, but I have been keeping it a secret and never mentioned going to Target….
#21 @ thatcrowwoman
Oh THAT was just awesome! I have always LOVED James Taylor! When my nephew was an infant I would croon Sweet Baby James to him as he snuggled into my neck. Jamie is now 20 and 6’3″ and he is still my Sweet Baby James.
Thanks for sharing.
#25 @ terpsichore
Hot pads, bricks and sterno:
http://www.ehow.com/how_5120384_make-own-fondue-pot.html
or you could use a Crock Pot
Your menu sounds wonderful.. Yummers.
one more before breakfast
Joni Mitchell A Case of You
(((Canada and Canadians)))
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OKMR6yYc7_o
Not my faviort poem but fits this political venue.
The Waning hours
Clouds hung heavy overhead, the gloomy atmosphere
Like a glue of depression captivated the moment. George
Bush head down, glassy eyed, shoulders stooped, walk’s
slowly out of the white house; no sign of his signature
cocky smirk. His mind wondered too his inter most thoughts:
“father why have you forsaken me”. You Lead me to believe
my faith would make me great. Your wisdom left me, as I
waddled in my own ineptitude. I had faith in our special
relationship. Having done great Wrong in your name, I am
only sorry for myself. “father Why have you forsaken me in
my time of need.
Boarding the helicopter thoughts jumped from faith to
empathy, thinking this must have been how Hitler felt
In the last day’s of his administration, as the truth squad
Closed in on his legacy. He felt a little better at this
Ridiculous comparison. His eyes closed and he began
To sleep, confident that the burden of failure would soon
Fade into euphoric feelings of grandeur.
LiladyNY – i used to sing that song to my baby too! only i’d put “rory” instead of “baby” as my baby’s name is rory james…poor kid, i can’t sing worth sh*t! he’s 17 going on 18 now. i’m going to go check that video out now.
AKM: No offense meant, but you really actually gave this to a boy in the 7th grade? My guess is that he didn’t even know how to read it, let alone understand it. At that age, boys can be described as many things, but I doubt cerebral is one of them – lol.
#30 Barbara
Gosh, they grow so fast. Some days I look at my kids and really want a “do-over”. There’s so much we never had time for.
I’m sure he doesn’t hold it against you that you can’t sing. You shine in other ways. : )
lilady @ 11…
i embrace your poem
This was my great-grandmother’s favorite song. She would play it on the piano, while bemoaning the lack of tune in my dad’s music (e.g. Tommy Dorsey). She outlived my great-grandfather, a civilwar veteran 37 years senior, by 41 years. I like to think she played it and remembered him.
Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms
[play] [print]
(Thomas Moore)
Believe me if all those
Endearing young charms
Which I gaze on so fondly today
Were to change by tomorrow
And fleet in my arms
Like fairy gifts fading away
Though would’st still be adored
As this moment thou art
Let thy loveliness fade as it will
And around the dear ruin
Each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself
Verdantly still
It is not while beauty
And youth are thine own
And thy cheeks
Unprofaned by a tear
That the ferver and faith
Of a soul can be known
To which time will but
Make thee more dear
No the heart that has truly loved
Never forgets
But as truly loves
On to the close
As the sunflower turns
On her god when he sets
The same look which
She’d turned when he rose
music here
http://ro.netlog.com/go/explore/videos/videoid=ro-1647509
I will remember this particular Valentine’s Day for this particular piece by Leonard Pitts -
Dear Sarah: Say it is so, run for president
http://www.miamiherald.com/living/columnists/leonard-pitts/story/1478213.html
“you represent the latest iteration of an anti-intellectualism that periodically rises in the American character. There is, historically and persistently, a belief in us that y’all just can’t trust nobody who acts too smart or talks too good — in other words, somebody whose “general persona” indicates they may have once cracked a book or had a thought. Americans tend to believe common sense the exclusive province of humble folks without sheepskins on the wall or big words in their vocabularies.
I don’t mock those people. They are my parents, my family elders, members of my childhood church. I honor their native good sense, what mom called “mother wit.” But if it is insulting to condescend to them, it is equally insulting to mythologize them.
More to the point, something is wrong when we celebrate mental mediocrity like yours under the misapprehension that competence or, God forbid, intelligence, makes a person one of those “elites” — that’s a curse word now — lacking authenticity, compassion and common sense.
So no, this is not a clash of ideologies, but a clash between intelligence and its opposite. And I am tired of being asked to pretend stupid is a virtue.”
Thank you, Leonard. Have I told you lately that I love you? If I knew alt-code for a heart, I’d print one here.
I’ll offer up one of my songs:
Hold and Fold
If I could hold you
In my arms
If I could fold you
Into my life.
Into every moment
Into every day.
Into every joy
Into every way
I would.
If I could hold you close
Through the night.
I’d never let go
If the moment was right.
Not to possess you or inspect you
Just to ease your journey
In life, I would.
If I could touch you
In any way.
If for only an hour
If for only a day
If for only a time
If only for ever
It’s all I can say,
I would.
Chorus:
There is one thing I know is true:
The earth stands still when I’m with you.
If I could run across this land
Over mountains, water, and sand.
I would kneel before your door,
‘Cause gee, what is life for
And hold your hand.
*waving to LiladtNY*
An actual poem. I’ve spent most of my life in middle school and high school, first as a teacher (science, history, language arts) and then as a librarian. I always had my students memorize and respond to this one. We’d write letters about dreams to our geezer selves…
….and now… I IS one!
Note to younger brothers and sisters here: Happy and I have been together 33 years this spring. Growing up is not for wimps, but geezerdom is NOT the End of the World…it’s very romantic here, soaking our feet together by the fire. (Littlebird says ickickick, cut that out, you two!)
FROZEN DREAM
I’ll take the dream I had last night
And put it in my freezer,
So someday long and far away
When I’m an old grey geezer,
I’ll take it out and thaw it out,
This lovely dream I’ve frozen,
And boil it up and sit me down
And dip my old cold toes in.
- Shel Silverstein
Loving all the poetry.
So, AKM, I’m assuming that Spouse isn’t that seventh grade crush? Let’s hope Spouse is more appreciative of the great things in life!
1 Lani Says: It is also Chinese New Year. Too.
—
General Predictions for the Year of the Tiger
The year of the Tiger is traditionally associated with massive changes and social upheaval. Therefore, 2010 is very likely to be a volatile one both on the world scene, as well as on a personal level.
Tigers who thrive on chance and unpredictabilty are best suited to navigating the many upheavals predicted in the year ahead. Those compatible with the Tiger — the Dragon and the Horse in particular — may also find 2010′s erratic circumstances inspiring them to ever bolder action, and ultimate success.
Those born under other signs will suffer, by degree, depending on how flexible they are to change. Those who can keep a steady hand on the helm may be shaken, but undeterred by the typically thunderous events foreseen in any Tiger year.
___
According to this we are going to have quite a year! Since the Chinese astrology is in 12 year cycles, what was happening in 1998?
*LiladtNY=LiladyNY* Oops.
NY Times Bestseller List today:
#1 Game Change $27.99
#9 Going Rogue $28.99
ROFLMAO Priceless
#
41
#41 @LiladyNY Says:
February 14th, 2010 at 9:04 AM
NY Times Bestseller List today:
#1 Game Change $27.99
#9 Going Rogue $28.99
ROFLMAO Priceless
————
Even funnier, it looks like it’s fallen to #17!
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/21/books/bestseller/besthardnonfiction.html?ref=books
All You who Sleep Tonight
by Vikram Seth
http://www.poemhunter.com/vikram-seth/
“All you who sleep tonight
Far from the ones you love,
No hand to left or right
And emptiness above -
Know that you aren’t alone
The whole world shares your tears,
Some for two nights or one,
And some for all their years.”
#35 @Mo
Hold down the Alt key and number 3 = ♥
#37 @thatcrowwoman – Namaste : ))
I’m so enjoying this sharing of music and poetry. My DH is in Florida and I’m feeling a little sad and missing him today in spite of the gooey Valentine’s Day card and emails and phone calls from him, so reading all the poems and hearing the music has cheered me up immeasurably.
@GG2C Hope all is going well.
Looking forward to geezerdom. I would not trade my “highlights” (grey hairs) and smile crinkles for anything.
And there’s this little gem from my hometown newspaper about Granny Grifter toying with tea partiers (byline Margaret Carlson):
“Like all populists, she’s great on the stump. . . . But, unlike most populists, she’s not faking the absence of book learning.”
ThirtyFiveUp @43 – thank you for that. i do happen to be living 3000 away from most of my loved ones.
and a general big thumbs up to everyone for sharing all the poems, and to AKM for doing this. i love poems.
Here is the “Right’s” idea of a Valentine’s Special!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=jEjUAnPc2VA
He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven Analysis
William Butler Yeats Type:
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Whoops, Analysis is not supposed to be at the end of the title. Why don’t I proof read?
“Type” is not meant to be there either. That was a bad cut and paste job.
..discovered in seventh grade…….
You and I
My hand is lonely for your clasping, dear;
My ear is tired waiting for your call.
I want your strength to help, your laugh to cheer;
Heart, soul and senses need you, one and all.
I droop without your full, frank sympathy;
We ought to be together – you and I;
We want each other so, to comprehend
The dream, the hope, things planned, or seen, or wrought.
Companion, comforter and guide and friend,
As much as love asks love, does thought ask thought.
Life is so short, so fast the lone hours fly,
We ought to be together, you and I.
by Henry Alford
1810-1871
#46 @meede
This animation is brilliant! Very funny.
Happy Valentines Day -
http://i.imgur.com/wXRne.jpg
austintx……wow!
austintx
Awwwww.
ThirtyFiveUp @ 43 and Irishgirl @47 and beyond,
*adding these to my file with Juneaudreams exquisite images, and brushing tears from my cheek*
Toda raba. Thank you.
good morning, austintx.
Love the lovebirds in the Snow! You’re the best!
One of my favorite poems
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
ee cummings
Wow, that’s my favorite Shakespeare sonnet too
I have a really special Valentines for Lee323 when he comes on board.
Wine comes in at the mouth; And love comes in at the eye;\
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh. ~ W.B. yeats
Joy upon joy and gain upon gain
Are the destined rights of my birth
And I shout the praise of my endless days
To the echoing edge of the Earth
Though I suffer all the deaths that a man can die
To the uttermost end of time
I have deep-drained this, my cup of bliss,
In every age and clime
The froth of Pride, the tang of Power,
The sweet of Womanhood!
I drain the lees upon my knees,
For oh, the draught is good
I drink to Life, I drink to Death,
And smack my lips with song
For when I die, another ‘I’ shall pass the cup along
“The man you drove from Eden’s grove
Was ‘I’ my Lord was ‘I’
And I shall be there when the earth and the air
Are rent from sea to sky
For it is my world, my gorgeous world,
The world of my dearest woes
From the first faint cry of the newborn
To the rack of the woman’s throes
Packed with the pulse of an unborn race
Torn with a world’s desire,
The surging flood of my wild young blood,
Would quench the judgment fire
I am Man, Man, Man, from the tingling flesh,
To the dust of my Earthly goal
From the nestling gloom of the pregnant womb
To the sheen of my naked soul
Bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh
The whole world leaps to my will
And the unslackened thrist of an Eden cursed
Shall harrow the earth for its fill
Almighty God,when I drain life’s glass
Of all its rainbow gleams
The hapless plight of eternal night
Shall be none too long for my dreams
The man you drove from Eden’s grove
Was I my Lord was I
And I shall be there when the Earth and the air
Are rent from sea to sky
For it is my world, my gorgeous world
The world of my dear delight
From the brightest gleam of the Arctic stream
To the dusk of my own love-night
The author is unknown. Here is one from me.
Sarah Palin sat high on the wall
Sarah Palin had a great fall
All of Fox’s horses asses
And all of Fox’s poor excuses for men
Try as they might
Won’t be able to put Sarah Palin back together again
7:59 PM 0 Comments(Add Comment) |0 KudosTranslatePowered by
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Happy’s singing this one now:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CB_Vu1DjDU8
another oldie but goodie…
Bob Seger’s Night Moves
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTgLQgpwRvQ
Happy Valentines day everyone.Prayers for everyone in the snow states that already had like some say 79 inches already this year and more to come.Hope everyone is safe and warm
One more from the wedding mix,
by John Prine
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b4b9WxkHo6Y&feature=related
Happy’s a deist. Littlebird and I are of the tribe of Abraham, among others, but Jesus taught some eternal truths, also, too…
So that Home Schooling I was progressin’ this weekend makin the linkin to tunes and such so easy even $arah could do it and enjoyin the sharin but not wantin to monopolize the conversation…and Littlebird not being here in the Forest to tell me when to Hush,mama…and wonderin if I should keep em comin, also, too….or would that just be Showing Off?
*shaking wordsalad from feathers*
Love is a Salmon
King, Dog, Silver, Humpy
Fresh and Firm
Salted and Pickled
Dried and Smoked
Canned in it’s own juices
Packed away for winter
To feed the hungry
Love is a Salmon
Fresh and Firm
Here are two oldies but goodies:
Shakespeare’s Sonnet 30
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night,
And weep afresh love’s long since cancell’d woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish’d sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.
*********************************************
And from wonderful William Butler Yeats:
When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with a love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
(“glowing bars” refers to heating elements in a fireplace )
I’ve memorized this Yeats poem, and reciting it in an Irish pub will get you some free drinks.
One Perfect Rose
A single
flow’r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet -
One perfect rose.
I knew the language of the floweret;
‘My fragile leaves,’ it said, ‘his heart enclose.’
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it’s always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.
-Dorothy Parker
My (single) friends and I have been referring to Valentine’s Day as Black (whatever day of the week it is) for years. This year….Black Sunday.
I wish all of your with a significant other the best. As for me, the dog will get a special cookie. He doesn’t buy me anything. But his doggy kisses are the best. (My parents gave me a DVD. “Up”. )
Right now, I’m going to take an aspirin. I have a headache.
LiladyNY, thanks for the fondue pot suggestion. Not sure if I feel keen enough to DYM (do it myself). We’ll see. I have hours left to decide!
I am probably ging to use one of the poem suggestions here in a blank card OR if I can find a musical card with Gladys Knight and the Pips:
If anyone should ever write
my life story,
for whatever reason
there might be,
you’ll be there
between each line of pain and glory,
’cause you’re the best thing
that ever happened to me.
So glorious the care which comes from thee
never hath i seen at the sea-of-pee
@AKjah, I love it.
Kipling
IF…..
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
‘ Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!
Phrased for chanting (only 2 notes):
i who have died ~ am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s ~ birth day;
this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:
and of the gay great happening ~
illimitably earth
From the poem “i thank You God for most this amazing” by e.e.cummings
If you enjoyed the olympic opening, you may like this poem:
http://www.poemhunter.com/best-poems/navarre-scott-momaday/the-delight-song-of-tsoai-talee/
I’ve always loved this one
Love Is Not All
Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution’s power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Lettersfromeurope: this Kipling poem describes a certain President!
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
I cringe whenever I see his verses trotted out on valentine cards. His love poems were really messages about ecstatic union with the Divine. But still, here we are:
Happy is the moment when we sit together,
With two forms, two faces, yet one soul
You and I
What a miracle of faith, us sitting here!
Even at the opposite ends of the earth
We would still be together, you and I.
We have one form in this world, another in the next.
To us belongs an eternal heaven,
The endless delight of you and I.
Jalaluddin Rumi
Persian, 13th century
Here’s one last link. This is the last song on the wedding mix Happy made.
Derek and the Dominoes: Anyday
But if you believed in me like I believe in you,
We could have a love so true, we would go on endlessly.
And I know anyday, anyday, I will see you smile.
Any way, any way, only for a little while.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pgNYXZL2fB4
hey, Happy, You are the Love of my Life…you believed in me and we’re still smiling after all these years.
I can’t honestly say I have a “favorite” love poem. I’ve many love poems that speak to me; many that express what I feel…
One is:
You are mine
and I am yours
in love
I am I
and you are you
in thought
Independently
we share our lives
together
~ Susan Polis Schultz
Spouse gave me a framed copy of it years ago for Christmas. He wasn’t with me and our 4-year old and 1-month old children that year; he’d had to leave, two-weeks prior, for an unaccompanied 12-month overseas tour with the military. For the past 31-years, the poem has always hung on a living room wall of each home we’ve lived in. Simply put:Together, in love, Spouse and I are.
Another of my “favorite” love poems, is a song: “Hold me, Thrill me, Kiss me.”** Although the song came out in 1953 (a hit sung by Karen Chandler) and again in 1967 (a mega-smash hit sung by Mel Carter), I didn’t ‘discover’ it —or, maybe, more precisely, didn’t ‘understand’ it—until I met Spouse in 1971. *Everything* about the song ‘speaks’ to me and about how I feel towards/with/about Spouse.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=45_8zWktVNE [please ignore the go-go dancers in the background...]
Call me sappy, call me an incurable romantic, but because of the person Spouse is, I can’t put my finger on “one” all-time-favorite love poem. (Heck, even a shopping list he’s written out for ingredients needed to make dinner for us, is, to me, a love poem…yup, I’ve got “it” that bad!)
Truth be told, after 37-years of marriage, Spouse still introduces me daily to full-blown, out-and-out love poems in the things he says and does; he makes my life a love poem. I think I’ll keep Spouse around for at least another 37-years to try to return to him, the incredible honor and favor. beth.
**Oddly enough, at my Mother’s home 3-years ago, us ‘kids’ were talking about this and that, you know, as a family does, at the dinner table [please understand how exceedingly rare it is, in the first place, for Mom's (and my late-Dad's) children --and assorted children-in-law-- to all (mostly) be gathered together in the same place at the same time; our parents raised 5 children whose loves and lives have scattered them around the globe...] In any event, one thing led to another that evening, as it invariably does in free-ranging dinner table discussions amongst long-time friends, and we got onto the topic of songs that really ‘struck a chord’ with us. I mentioned the above song and the ‘reason’ it moved me so. My darling sister-in-law turned to me and asked: “You know my [maternal] aunt’s husband wrote the lyrics to that song, don’t you?” You could have knocked me over with a feather! I hadn’t a clue Harry Noble was kin to my sil! The song is even more ‘special’ to me, if that’s even possible, now that I have an additional ‘connection’ to it. b.
♥ ♥ ♥ Happy Valentine’s Day! ♥ ♥ ♥
Share some love, one to another. God bless everyone here, I pray.
I briefly heard a quick promo come up on CNN on Fareed Zakaria’s Show that ( I thought they said Tuesday ..? ) Cheater Barbie will be on Larry King Tuesday night. I didn’t catch who else would be on as well… or what the topic would be.
Does this mean she will actually get Questions asked of her…?
And if ala Carrie Prejean.. what happens if the questions are ‘ inappropriate ‘?
Will she walk off and cancel the interview..?
Will she be using her handprompter..?
Some of these ‘ interviews ‘ that Larry does he asks the viewers to ask questions. We should all email Larry King with suggestions.
Larry: Why won’t Sarah pay her TAXES like everybody else…Is she ‘ elite ‘ and feels she doesn’t have to?
No poem here………just Lulu layin’ it out there.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CPoFI7m-cjI
aww Austin!!! how beautiful. lovely little chicks sitting on branch with ice covered red berries. happy Valentine’s day lil’ bro.
Also, too, Austintx. what are we, chopped liver? why we gotta wait lee323 comes. it’s Valentine’s day and lee323 might just be out being shot by cupid or somebody’s irate spouse.
Ahem……..bubbles……..I saw a “card” for Lee323 and knew that I had to make it his. You will have to be patient and wait. I would do the same for you.
A Poem for A K M
A rose may be red
An iris Might be blue
But one thing is definite
And another is true
Me and the Pups most certainly
LOVE YOU
by the poet BUBBLES
I don’t know how I missed these videos during the campaign but they are not to be missed and I promise you’ll enjoy them. ( and will be humming the tunes for the next few days) Posted over on Palingates –
http://palingates.blogspot.com/2010/02/open-thread-happy-valentines-day.html
Nothing mean , just really clever , honest and funny.
Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you !
bubbles -
You are a poet
And we didn’t know it
Also , too , new thread up on swilling. Come have a drink while we wait on Lee323.
Well, my favorite love poem is the one my best friend wrote and read at my wedding…she introduced my husband and I so it was extremely heartfelt and sweet. Made us all cry, could’ve killed her
Thank god I don’t wear mascara!
However, my favorite non personal love poem has always been John Boyle O’Reilly’s
A WHITE ROSE
The red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
O the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.
But I send you a cream-white rosebud
With a flush on its petal tips;
For the love that is purest and sweetest
Has a kiss of desire on the lips.
Guess what kind of flowers I had at my wedding!
For AKM:
Jean
Of a’ the airts the wind can blaw,
I dearly like the west,
For there the bonie lassie lives,
The lassie I lo’ve best:
There’s wild woods grow, and rivers row,
And mony a hill between;
But day and night my fancy’s flight
Is ever wi’ my Jean.
I see her in the dewy flowers,
I see her sweet and fair:
I hear her in the tunefu’ birds,
I hear her charm the air:
There’s not a bonie flower that springs
By fountain, shaw, or green,
There’s not a bonie bird that sings,
But minds me o’ my Jean.
I have never been much of a fan of love poems; in high school, our school’s literary magazine featured way too many sappy things and ignored some of the very cool, almost savage poems and short stories (most featuring polemics against social injustices) written by some of my classmates.
However, one of the songs that Hubby and I love and sing along with when we hear it on the radio is “When I’m Sixty-Four” by the Beatles. Teenage son tends to cringe when we do stuff like that. Older son is now married, so tends to be less judgmental about his parents. The homey, mundane things in the song’s lyrics really resonate with us now, 32+ years into our marriage. Hubby also likens us to that old couple holding hands in the DeBeers Diamonds commercial from a few years back (I just checked – 2007).
We refuse to recognize Valentine’s Day because of the commercialism and prefer to celebrate the anniversary of the night we met instead.
BuffaloGal @89 i loved the videos. and had never seen them either. how did we miss them??
Organizers ramp up Palin marketing
http://www.thespec.com/News/Local/article/721366
Tickets are still available to hear a potential American presidential candidate in Hamilton.
Despite one organizer’s prediction in December that the April 15 visit of Sarah Palin to Hamilton would be sold out within two weeks, good seats remain available.
90
austintx Says:
February 14th, 2010 at 1:49 PM
bubbles -
You are a poet
And we didn’t know it
*******************************************************************
WHO KNEW ???
@LilyBart – spot on!
Poem with music Still one of my favorites.
Update:
As per my # 83 post… someone on Palingates clarified what I heard about upcoming Guests on Larry king Tuesday.
The guest will be Bill Maher… and he will be talking ABOUT Cheater Barbie.
Great poems, Thanks AKM..Thanks to all for the linc’s and pictures..
((((((((((MALAIUPPA))))))))))
(((((DOROTHY PARKER)))))
((((((((((Mlaiuppa))))))))))
Sorry I misspelled you name!
(A rose by any other name would smell as sweet!)
I’m on board, austintx……and already a smile is creasing my face. (I would hazard a guess that it combines hearts and baboons…..but I don’t want to spoil your surprise.)
——————————————————————–
I dedicate the following valentine poem to those simple folks who still wander the wilderness of delusion that the Mrs. Palin they see on stage is the real Missus Palin. The poem was written by Johnathan Swift in the year 1734. (It’s a long poem so I shall only post the beginning and the end.)
aHEMmm (clearing throat):
“A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG NYMPH GOING TO BED”
Corinna, Pride of Drury-Lane,
For whom no Shepherd sighs in vain;
Never did Covent Garden boast
So bright a batter’d, strolling Toast;
No drunken Rake to pick her up,
No Cellar where on Tick to sup;
Returning at the Midnight Hour;
Four Stories climbing to her Bow’r;
Then, seated on a three-legg’d Chair,
Takes off her artificial Hair:
Now, picking out a Crystal Eye,
She wipes it clean, and lays it by.
Her Eye-Brows from a Mouse’s Hide,
Stuck on with Art on either Side,
Pulls off with Care, and first displays ‘em,
Then in a Play-Book smoothly lays ‘em.
Now dextrously her Plumpers draws,
That serve to fill her hollow Jaws.
Untwists a Wire; and from her Gums
A Set of Teeth completely comes.
Pulls out the Rags contriv’d to prop
Her flabby Dugs and down they drop.
Proceeding on, the lovely Goddess
Unlaces next her Steel-Rib’d Bodice;
Which by the Operator’s Skill,
Press down the Lumps, the Hollows fill,
Up hoes her Hand, and off she slips
The Bolsters that supply her Hips.
(snip)
CORINNA wakes. A dreadful Sight!
Behold the Ruins of the Night!
A wicked Rat her Plaster stole,
Half eat, and dragged it to his Hole.
The Crystal Eye, alas, was miss’d;
And Puss had on her Plumpers piss’d.
A Pigeon pick’d her Issue-Peas;
And Shock her Tresses fill’d with Fleas.
The Nymph, tho’ in this mangled Plight,
Must ev’ry Morn her Limbs unite.
But how shall I describe her Arts
To recollect the scatter’d Parts?
Or show the Anguish, Toil, and Pain,
Of gath’ring up herself again?
The bashful Muse will never bear
In such a Scene to interfere.
Corinna in the Morning dizen’d,
Who sees, will spew; who smells, be poison’d.
GACK !!
This is awesome,” she said. “It’s all-Americana event. Good, patriotic, wonderful event that’s bringing a whole lot of people together. I think this is good for our country.”
Sporting a black coat, blue jeans and heels â�� no hand notes â�� the self-described “hockey mom” got the full experience in her first visit to the Daytona 500.
She sat through the pre-race driver meeting, muscled her way through pit road, took to the stage on the infield and wished drivers a safe race. She drew roars from throngs of racing fans, many shouting “We love you, Sarah!”
Palin wasn’t with her husband, Todd, on Valentine’s Day. She told the crowd he was back in Alaska preparing for the Iron Dog snowmobile race.
“Whether it’s racing cars, dogs, snow machines, it’s an event like this that brings all Americans together,” she said.
Palin took just two questions from the only two reporters around her entourage, consisting of about a dozen security personnel and managers. That didn’t stop her from doing what she does best: getting out in the crowds and mingling with supporters.
“I’m thinking about this good, active, speed-loving event that a lot of Alaskans, too, are really in to,” said Palin, adding that some elements â�� minus the snow â�� were similar to the famous Iditarod sled dog race.
“We’ve got our snow-machine races up there. This is, of course, on a much greater scale,” she said. “Same type of sport, though, same type of risk-taking, speed-loving all-American event that we participate up north. We love it. You bet.”
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5hAhB7zrcoy83c9ix1ZBvQejIEIyAD9DS5D580
#98 strangelet That was powerful and wonderful and left me in tears. Thank you.
@thatcrowwoman ~ Thank you for sharing your Happy mix of music. It has been a real treat to hear these songs again. I hope some day to sit before the fire with my beloved DH in the fullness of geezerhood while we reflect on the journey that brought us there, too. When my first marriage failed, I thought never to know love or happiness again. Then I chanced to meet my heart-and-soul-mate and learned to believe in miracles.
@(((bubbles))) ~ you never cease to amaze!
What a delightful Valentine’s Day AKM has given us complete with passion and flowers and romance and just enough vinegar to keep it from being too cloying.
I ♥ Mudpuppies and (((AKM))) who brought us together. Namaste
Well Lee323……..of course you are correct in your speculation. I saw the following Valentines greeting this morning and was instantly reminded of our discussion on the color red and how it affects males.
Happy Valentines Day !!
http://i.imgur.com/3t77y.jpg
#103 @lee 323
Standing ovation!!! Clap Clap Clap
Laughing my “aHEM” off!!! Two great minds think alike, austintx!
Valentine’s Day just wouldn’t be the same without a baboon presenting……the card, of course. Anthropologically speaking, of course.
@ LiLadyNY
Thank you! (bowing modestly)
Hoping it was not too much vinegar!….
Johnathan Swift…..so amusing, so harsh, so true, so sad.
And Puss had on her Plumpers piss’d.
A Pigeon pick’d her Issue-Peas;
And Shock her Tresses fill’d with Fleas.
The Nymph, tho’ in this mangled Plight
**************************************************
Bravo Sir !!
http://i217.photobucket.com/albums/cc319/predragpajdic/Orsonclapping.gif
austintx….you are the undisputed master of links…..and lightning fast at it, too. We Mudpups are dazzled and entertained by your skill at putting pictures to the many words written everyday on this wonderful blog! Bravo to you, Sir!
Here’s an Irish poem, dedicated to Irishgirl, about the dangers of falling into and out of:
“On Raglan Road, on a summer day
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair might weave a snare that I might one day rue.
I saw the dangers, yet I walked
Along the enchanted way,
For I said let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet
I see her walking now.
Away from me, so hurriedly, my reason must allow.
For I had wooed, not as I should,
A creature made of clay.
When the angel woos the clay
He’d lose his wings, At dawn of day.”
- Patrick Kavanaugh
(singing this in the odd pub has won me the odd pint at various times of my life!)
Lee323, that was simply awesome!
Austintx…you are a treasure!
I swore I would go to bed early tonight, but you good people have kept me awake and laughing yet again.
Begone!!!
Ewww. and ickickick also, too. austintx and Lee323, you are SO like my nephews! At least we had fair warning…
(indignant sputtering dissolving into giggles)
I’ve had a lovely day at the Mudflats…parting is such sweet sorrow…but I’m off to bake Happy’s favorite Birthday cake for the festivities tomorrow. Chocolate cheesecake on graham cracker crust. With cherries, blueberries, and/or caramel sauce. Recipe from Bubbe Rose, of blessed memory.
*humming Joni’s Circle Game*
Good night, all, and sweet dreams.
((((Mag the Mick))))
Lee323 -
Just tryin’ to keep it fun. We are presented with , and discuss some serious matters at the home AKM has so graciously provided for us here. Gotta bust loose and be silly sometimes. I’m gonna take a break and go out to dinner with the most beautiful and smart daughter in the whole wide world. My world anyway. bubbles can testify.
Written by “Anonymous” in 1300 AD. Dedicated with love to my late spouse:
Western wind, when wilt thou blow,
The small rain down can rain?
Christ, if my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again!
That was beautiful Lee323.
Thanks, Irishgirl.
Short, but visceral. Makes me weep every time.
I think I’ll head out now with my two lovely children, as well.
Happy Valentine’s Day to all the Flats.
#
106
austintx Says:
February 14th, 2010 at 3:39 PM
Well Lee323……..of course you are correct in your speculation. I saw the following Valentines greeting this morning and was instantly reminded of our discussion on the color red and how it affects males.
Happy Valentines Day !!
http://i.imgur.com/3t77y.jpg
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
aah austintx…. you devil you
lee323…..beautiful poem……austin’s baby is a beauty too. very nice young lady
96
90
austintx Says:
February 14th, 2010 at 1:49 PM
bubbles -
You are a poet
And we didn’t know it
*******************************************************************
WHO KNEW ???
*******************************************************************
I did because my feet are Longfellows! Ba-da-bing!
What lovely things to read today. Thank you one and all.
Okay. To be serious for all you mushy, kissy people.
I love e.e. cummings and I think my favorite love poem would be the last verse of i am so glad and very.
“we are so both and oneful
night cannot be so sky
sky cannot be so sunful
i am through you so i”
Because I think love should bring out the very best in us, not stifle who we are but make us better. It heightens the senses. Love makes you not a couple but a single thing, yet you are still both uniquely you. Separate, but united.
For any Poe fans out there….here is a great poem of love (and loss).
My dad dedicated this poem to my mom at her funeral. Not to be morbid or sad, but it was a perfect selection. Her name was Annabel and they were childhood sweethearts. They enjoyed a long life of love and happiness while they could.
It is a nice valentine for some.
Thanks for all the great poetry here today and what a great bunch you all are! There is something for everyone here with all the links and poems. AustinTx, how do you get those links up so fast? Amazing!
**********************************
Annabel Lee (Edgar Allen Poe)
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
mlaiuppa Says:
February 14th, 2010 at 7:26 PM
Okay. To be serious for all you mushy, kissy people.
————–
Thank you, I needed to be reminded of that. Love will come to you, also, too. And it will have been earned by your lovely self. (((hugs)))
I have love. He is sitting half in my lap, kissing my face. (Okay, because he wants out.)
But he still loves me unconditionally.
Anyone that says you can’t buy love has never been owned by a dog.
Well, this just brings back all kinds of bad memories about when I had to read Shakespeare’s stuff and didn’t understand a darn thing because it was in a foreign language.
OTOH, and it’s not really poetry, but, I had to memorize the Intro to the Canterbury Tales in high school (and let’s wonder if SP ever had to do that!!–HA) –excuse the misspellings, but I’m sure Chaucer will go easy on me:
Whan that April weth his shores soote,
The drocht of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich liquor,
Of which vertu engendred is the flore.
Whan Zephyrus eek weth his swayte braythe,
Inspired hath in every holt and heath,
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne,
Hath in the Ram his halfe corse eronne.
And smale fowles maken melodye,
That slepen all the nicht weth open eye,
So pricketh hem nature in her corages,
Thenne longen folke to goen on pilgrimages,
and palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halways, qoth in sondre londes.
And especially from every shires ende of Engelonde
To Canterbury they wende,
The holy blissful martyr for to seke,
Then hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (T. S. Eliot):
S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.
LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
Just have to report: Among other nice little things, Mr. Terps bought me for Valentines Day my very own copy of ….
“Game Change”
And I didn’t even tell him too!
So great to read new poets, and see some old favorites, too! What a great collection.
thatcrowwoman, in honor of bringing Mr Silverstein to the table, I offer up one that my Mom sometimes signs off with, in our phone calls to each other:
I love you, I love you,
I love you, devine.
Please give me your bubble gum;
you’re sitting on mine.
Happy Valentine’s Day, all!