Who here likes poetry ? | |
LoRd-CoNNoR User ID: 15550 Australia 12/02/2005 01:25 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
LoRd-CoNNoR User ID: 15550 Australia 12/02/2005 01:28 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Dr Strange (OP) User ID: 43074 United States 12/02/2005 01:35 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 1163 United States 12/02/2005 01:37 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Dr Strange (OP) User ID: 43074 United States 12/02/2005 01:40 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Also many dont consider this ...But Nostradomus wrote all his future predictions in poetry style. |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 21591 United States 12/02/2005 01:41 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Anders User ID: 45575 United Kingdom 12/02/2005 01:43 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all convictions, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again; but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 45853 Ireland 12/02/2005 01:44 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | When you ask "likes poetry," do you mean, "Who likes to write poetry" or "Who likes to read poetry"? A lot more people write poetry than read it. And song lyrics are seldom poetry. I can´t think of more than one or two in my entire life that could be called poetry. For one thing, most song lyrics use rhyme, and very simple rhymes, so I would not call them poetry. For another thing, lyrics are written for money. Poets write for the sake of their souls. |
Adam Seijuro User ID: 38018 Australia 12/02/2005 01:44 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Dr Strange (OP) User ID: 43074 United States 12/02/2005 01:44 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Love of the ages shattered the eternal night A shock wave through evil fear gripped the darkness in every heart the conscience of the people.... It spread like a needed disease sickening the cruel fire burned a forest of lies in deceitful minds the brutal heavy hand of man was crushed in an instant when love conquered the world for the first time tears flooded a battlefield instead of the blood of dying pawns the last wave opened the flood gates of guilt The truth of love claimed victory on Earth |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 77 Hong Kong 12/02/2005 01:45 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Dr Strange (OP) User ID: 43074 United States 12/02/2005 01:47 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Anders User ID: 45575 United Kingdom 12/02/2005 01:47 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
The I Know It Poet User ID: 45847 United States 12/02/2005 01:47 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Dr Strange (OP) User ID: 43074 United States 12/02/2005 01:48 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Anders User ID: 45575 United Kingdom 12/02/2005 01:49 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Ebony one are you fitful He nods his obeisance Do you know they throng knowing To assured carnage abruptly turning The cunning raven desperate to flee Sighs anew running toward the Bay The Invaders swarm diamonds clasped to chest The open plains leaping over the edge Destroying in legions free-breathing at last Mind I discover hitting the fourth step Fertile fields hard! Fluid and undulant a fearful rhythm now Sustaining their spines every seventh step Emerald stalks reciting The Táin Bewitching florescence five centuries pre-Christ Bed fields of battle all Flailing victorious the Hordes to dust way Cattle cries the Badb home The raven feasts to Among carcasses of armies Maryann |
Marlboro Man User ID: 45831 United States 12/02/2005 01:49 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 1163 United States 12/02/2005 01:49 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Last Night the Rain Spoke to Me Last night the rain spoke to me slowly, saying, what joy to come falling out of the brisk cloud, to be happy again in a new way on the earth! That’s what it said as it dropped, smelling of iron, and vanished like a dream of the ocean into the branches and the grass below. Then it was over. The sky cleared. I was standing under a tree. The tree was a tree with happy leaves, and I was myself, and there were stars in the sky that were also themselves at the moment at which moment my right hand was holding my left hand which was holding the tree which was filled with stars and the soft rain – imagine! imagine! the long and wondrous journeys still to be ours. Mary Oliver |
Dr Strange (OP) User ID: 43074 United States 12/02/2005 01:50 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Most Ancient Hunger Rising An ancient hunger for love, been suppressed for so long Just love...nothing but love...it´s rising from the core breaking through miles of hardened surface years of taking life for granted and they cannot feel the rising desperate power the hungry beast of love rising Their feelings for such things desensitized a machine created by false logic and numbers turned them cold...cold to the reasons why shaky nervous world now...tears and pain dismissed a march with terrible song of progress into a mouth of a flaming volcano the tender nurturing steadying hand of love...almost gone only a ghost of its former self just an echo of its potential remains its healing powers for all this, lost on progressive minds that aren´t really progressive and empty shells where souls once lived and love once ruled when children reached for mother in purer days |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 77 Hong Kong 12/02/2005 01:55 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | How to Kill Under the parabola of a ball, a child turning into a man, I looked into the air too long. The ball fell in my hand, it sang in the closed fist: Open Open Behold a gift designed to kill. Now in my dial of glass appears the soldier who is going to die. He smiles, and moves about in ways his mother knows, habits of his. The wires touch his face: I cry NOW. Death, like a familiar, hears And look, has made a man of dust of a man of flesh. This sorcery I do. Being damned, I am amused to see the centre of love diffused and the wave of love travel into vacancy. How easy it is to make a ghost. The weightless mosquito touches her tiny shadow on the stone, and with how like, how infinite a lightness, man and shadow meet. They fuse. A shadow is a man when the mosquito death approaches Keith Douglas |
Dr Strange (OP) User ID: 43074 United States 12/02/2005 01:57 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Interesting 368 ...good stuff ....good stuff from everyone. Ruled By Zero Ideology....nothing but pure thoughts Garnered by the soul and all that it means See how nothing controls everything You go into the invisible world.... Of what you see and cannot You always look for the soul...the center It is always the unknown which pulls us forward Questions create the future Answers keep the grounds under our feet Curiosity and imagination.... They ensure humanity...they ensure eternity I Love....these words speak of the highest nothing No invisible is like that feeling...The world This tangible place is marked by nothing History is saturated with love and hate The ghost of those passions still ignite our world The fire of those passions marks us all It is so extraordinary to contemplate that It gives me free reign into a future world It allows me to see back and give advice |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 77 Hong Kong 12/02/2005 01:58 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Cairo Jag Shall I get drunk or cut myself a piece of cake, a pasty Syrian with a few words of English or the Turk who says she is a princess--she dances apparently by levitation? Or Marcelle, Parisienne always preoccupied with her dull dead lover: she has all the photographs and his letters tied in a bundle and stamped Decede in mauve ink. All this takes place in a stink of jasmin. But there are the streets dedicated to sleep stenches and the sour smells, the sour cries do not disturb their application to slumber all day, scattered on the pavement like rags afflicted with fatalism and hashish. The women offering their children brown-paper breasts dry and twisted, elongated like the skull, Holbein´s signature. But his stained white town is something in accordance with mundane conventions- Marcelle drops her Gallic airs and tragedy suddenly shrieks in Arabic about the fare with the cabman, links herself so with the somnambulists and legless beggars: it is all one, all as you have heard. But by a day´s travelling you reach a new world the vegetation is of iron dead tanks, gun barrels split like celery the metal brambles have no flowers or berries and there are all sorts of manure, you can imagine the dead themselves, their boots, clothes and possessions clinging to the ground, a man with no head has a packet of chocolate and a souvenir of Tripoli. Keith Douglas |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 1163 United States 12/02/2005 01:59 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | The Fish The first fish I ever caught would not lie down quiet in the pail but flailed and sucked at the burning amazement of the air and died in the slow pouring off of rainbows. Later I opened his body and separated the flesh from the bones and ate him. Now the sea is in me: I am the fish, the fish glitters in me; we are risen, tangled together, certain to fall back to the sea. Out of pain, and pain, and more pain we feed this feverish plot, we are nourished by the mystery. Mary Oliver |
Dr Strange (OP) User ID: 43074 United States 12/02/2005 02:03 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | wow great stuff ...i so do love poetry ...it holds my attention while reading so well. And it fills the soul so fast to. Unique reading. Change Will Come As Never Before Change is coming...one way or the other The greatest change in human history is coming Mountains explode, grounds open, diseases spread, wars and rumors of wars grow Most of all masses are stopped in their work Because the real job of humanity must be seen The heavy hand becomes all too visible However change can come another way It can come as a gentle touch Words to the heart of another from the poet in all Simple and profound words to save humanity So we may live by our humanity The greater virtues that make us rise in spirit With the spirit we must see within and without. . . Love, compassion, understanding, Bravery is acknowledgement of the soul All this from within and without We live as one in the magik sphere called Earth There is no escape from virtues learned here |
Dr Strange (OP) User ID: 43074 United States 12/02/2005 02:06 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | The doom sayer How to see the doom sayer one who speaks of the end of civilization for many a troubling issue indeed In all irony i have spoken of doom more than most more than anyone i know I have studied the reasons why i know the causes of doom i have listened to a majority ignore important issues i have seen them ignore minorities weak and strong many believed indifference would never be punished still i worried about the other dooms sayers would they know when to speak it did they know the pain behind the words of doom or was it just the cold science of data and facts did they weep for knowing the solution to doom were they brave enough to speak it about the love, gentleness, wisdom that was needed when the end comes will they not say... ´i told you so" quiet pitty will be all that can be given |
The I Know It Poet User ID: 45847 United States 12/02/2005 02:06 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Within the Myriad Halls of Heaven, time space and dimension are superceded and transcended. Bathed in bluest sapphireen effulgence; all affirmaties thus healed and mended. Soaring thru columns of shimmering aurora hued, cumuliform clouds, amid legions of Cherubim, Seraphim, and Auphanim, arrayed in gold glinted crowds. At the right hand of the ´Father´, is enthroned the ´Lamb of Glory´ His coutenance as burnished brass, fiery majestic and clarion in gaze and voice. Hair like unto wool, upon a throne of translucent crystaline gold. He bids us; come away! as we soar alae, eagles on high serenely, gloriously, we mount to the sky. Transfigured unto pillars of onyx and alabaster, in YaoHuVeHshua´s Millennial Temple, arising forth with angelic orisons sung out from the Sides of the North ! |
The I Know It Poet User ID: 45847 United States 12/02/2005 02:09 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | The New Jerusalem Behold !!! The New Heaven, and The New Earth ! : Melchizedek Planet 10 - X ! King of Righteousness : Molkhiul YaoHuVeHshua Emmanuel Melchizedek hol - Mehushkhay ! Lord of virtue, Soveriegn of worth ! The smouldering giant orb, of burnt umber hue, source of heavenly fire, sans oceans and seas, yet teeming with the abundant waters of the river of life. Crowned with the diadem of the New Jerusalem, bejewelled and resplendent, as befits the Monarch´s Bride And Wife. The great orb itself ; originating no spark of effulgent radiant light, emits the warm, comforting, healing, purifying fire of the shimmering cumuliform Shekinah, the very presence of YaoHuVeH ul - Avah ; smouldering, blazing up, illuminating, leaving no shadows, darkness or night. No Temple/Church of inert, lifeless matter is to be found therein. instead; those who intrinsically personify and project absolute love and life, remade in the image of YaoHuVeHshua Himself, Ancient of Days, One in being with Avah and Ruckha, Logos and Rhema, Urim and Thumim, the everlasting hope of men. Adorned and Completed with living stones, the human overcomers, in YaoHuVeHshua, the resurrecting, regenerating, substance of our faith. The master carpenter, Who installs us as pillars and columns, glorified in His identity, purpose and place. YaoHuVeHshua´s reward is with Him, and in Him ; intimately, lovingly, and tenderly, in His protective, covering embrace. Dispelling all pain, suffering, sorrow and death, as we progress from glory to glory everlasting, in beholding Him as He really is, bathed in the inefable glory of His Face ! The veritable heart and soul of this; the City of the Living God, is it´s light, it´s fire, it´s warmth and it´s love. You verily can go home again, upon receipt of your eternal home, as the one from above. This fiery chariot of sienna and umber, illumined by the King of Righteousness, driving it onward, propelled by mighty steeds, races inexorably into the inner solar system. Anon, drawing nigh, to the old defiled Earth He Comes, seeming to those who see, as a second Son, a majestically glorious conveyance, suitable for the King ! He has come knocking upon the door of our people´s heart, He bids His Fair One to arise and come away with Him, riding across the heavens in the Chariot of the King. He awaits our response in the fragrant, dew laden gardens of our souls, to meet Him there in that hidden place, never more to part !!! |
i don´t know User ID: 45856 Canada 12/02/2005 02:17 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
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