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Category: Community
Forum: Chat Room
Thread: Poetry - just poetry .... |
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Thread Status: Active Total posts in this thread: 953
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David Autumns
Ace Cruncher UK Joined: Nov 16, 2004 Post Count: 11062 Status: Offline Project Badges: 
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David Autumns
Ace Cruncher UK Joined: Nov 16, 2004 Post Count: 11062 Status: Offline Project Badges:
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I'm not convinced a life not lived to the fullest is not one well lived.
----------------------------------------Peoples lives including mine are not perfect but have a value. Life is a journey with stop offs on that trip. I've been to Istanbul and Dubai but never got outside the Airport Terminals, they were just transit points on the way to my ultimate destination. I love Boris Yellnikoff's initial soliloquy in the tortured Woody Allen's "Whatever Works" which is some of the best writing since Shakespeare Everyone's lives less than ideal ... great ending. Breakfast at Tiffany's Sally Tomato says "Someday, Mr. Fred, you take this book, turn it into a novel, everything is there, just fill in the details" Lives less than ideal ... great ending. Who knows I might not make it through today, Van Morrison sings of precious time slipping away. Today I'll wander lonely as that Cloud But |
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David Autumns
Ace Cruncher UK Joined: Nov 16, 2004 Post Count: 11062 Status: Offline Project Badges:
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"Moon River"
----------------------------------------Moon river, wider than a mile I'm crossing you in style some day Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker Wherever you're going, I'm going your way Two drifters, off to see the world There's such a lot of world to see We're after the same rainbow's end, waiting, round the bend My Huckleberry Friend, Moon River, and me |
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bjbdbest
Master Cruncher Joined: May 11, 2007 Post Count: 2333 Status: Offline Project Badges: 
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All of us live less than perfect lives...total agreement there and
----------------------------------------surely those lives are of value. Even those considered successful have times of fear and insecurity. We climb and stumble along the way and hopefully learn the lessions. We forge through sorrow and disappointment but go on. Rejoice in simple things - the beauty of nature, like our esteemed Mr.Wordsworth - a wonderful example. Whether a wanderer, a dreamer, a lover, an achiever, etc. My point exactly... A full life = "Whatever Works"  One Moment in Time [Edit: I C U Neil  What do you think?]---------------------------------------- [Edit 1 times, last edit by bjbdbest at Feb 16, 2014 4:51:53 PM] |
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NAP2614
Master Cruncher Joined: Mar 27, 2007 Post Count: 2546 Status: Offline Project Badges: 
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All of us live less than perfect lives...total agreement there and
----------------------------------------surely those lives are of value. Even those considered successful have times of fear and insecurity. We climb and stumble along the way and hopefully learn the lessions. We forge through sorrow and disappointment but go on. Rejoice in simple things - the beauty of nature, like our esteemed Mr.Wordsworth - a wonderful example. Whether a wanderer, a dreamer, a lover, an achiever, etc. My point exactly... A full life = "Whatever Works" ] [Edit: I C U Neil What do you think? Searching fervently for something constructive, or helpful, or both. Complete loss for words.  |
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bjbdbest
Master Cruncher Joined: May 11, 2007 Post Count: 2333 Status: Offline Project Badges:
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Searching fervently for something constructive, or helpful, or both. Complete loss for words. When at a loss, punt  *punt---to do something different in a pinch; to improvise (It's hard to be wise all the time - for me, at least)  How about one of your clever poetic finds? |
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NAP2614
Master Cruncher Joined: Mar 27, 2007 Post Count: 2546 Status: Offline Project Badges:
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The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
----------------------------------------In the ranks of death you'll find him; His father's sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him; "Land of Song!" said the warrior bard, "Though all the world betrays thee, One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee!" The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain Could not bring his proud soul under; The harp he loved ne'er spoke again, For he tore its chords asunder; And said "No chains shall sully thee, Thou soul of love and bravery! Thy songs were made for the pure and free They shall never sound in slavery!" Thomas Moore (1779–1852) who set it to the melody of The Moreen, an old Irish air. It is widely believed that Moore composed the song in remembrance of a number of his friends, whom he met while studying at Trinity College, Dublin and who had participated in (and were killed during) the Irish Rebellion of 1798. |
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bjbdbest
Master Cruncher Joined: May 11, 2007 Post Count: 2333 Status: Offline Project Badges:
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A strong, wonderful, patriotic poem. Thanks for coming through with another winner!
----------------------------------------Some say that the song, Danny Boy was written about an Irish lad going off to war. Here's a nice version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8s_jleJFR_M Bless them all! |
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NAP2614
Master Cruncher Joined: Mar 27, 2007 Post Count: 2546 Status: Offline Project Badges:
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My cousin in Llanwrst sent me this for the forum.
----------------------------------------Pan fwyf yn hen a pharchus Ac arian yn fy nghod, A phob beirniadaeth drosodd A phawb yn canu 'nghlod Mi brynaf fwthyn unig Heb ddim o flaen y ddôr. Ond creigiau Aberdaron A thonnau Gwyllt y Môr When I am old and reverend With money to my name, With all my judgments over Yet basking in my fame: I'll buy a lonely cottage With nothing 'fore its door, But the rocks of Aberdaron And the ocean's maddened roar. translation by Robin ap Cynan [Edit 1 times, last edit by NAP2614 at Feb 17, 2014 11:22:13 PM] |
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bjbdbest
Master Cruncher Joined: May 11, 2007 Post Count: 2333 Status: Offline Project Badges:
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Another cycle of life poem ...
----------------------------------------The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; Along the sea-sands damp and brown The traveller hastens toward the town, And the tide rises, the tide falls. Darkness settles on roofs and walls, But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls; The little waves, with their soft, white hands, Efface the footprints in the sands, And the tide rises, the tide falls. The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls; The day returns, but nevermore Returns the traveller to the shore, And the tide rises, the tide falls. -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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