Poems of the Days - Free Speech

 Poems of the Days - Free Speech
 
 On this 'Poem of the Day' thread you can post the poem of your choice
 without it being approved (censored) by Jack Heslop.
(Who, unlike the rest of us, has been granted a DELETE BUTTON!)
 
 Feel free to post whatever you like. AND (very important) to add
 any comments you would like to add.
 
 Here's one I love by Pablo Neruda:


    __If You Forget Me__
                           
    I want you to know
    one thing.
   
    You know how this is:
    if I look
    at the crystal moon, at the red branch
    of the slow autumn at my window,
    if I touch
    near the fire
    the impalpable ash
    or the wrinkled body of the log,
    everything carries me to you,
    as if everything that exists,
    aromas, light, metals,
    were little boats
    that sail
    toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
   
    Well, now,
    if little by little you stop loving me
    I shall stop loving you little by little.
   
    If suddenly
    you forget me
    do not look for me,
    for I shall already have forgotten you.
   
    If you think it long and mad,
    the wind of banners
    that passes through my life,
    and you decide
    to leave me at the shore
    of the heart where I have roots,
    remember
    that on that day,
    at that hour,
    I shall lift my arms
    and my roots will set off
    to seek another land.
   
    But
    if each day,
    each hour,
    you feel that you are destined for me
    with implacable sweetness,
    if each day a flower
    climbs up to your lips to seek me,
    ah my love, ah my own,
    in me all that fire is repeated,
    in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
    my love feeds on your love, beloved,
    and as long as you live it will be in your arms
    without leaving mine

           - - -

By god...beautiful.

s'up ray.
I think that the idea behind Jacks thread was to ensure one poem be posted per day, that way the poem would have more of a chance of being read.
I am not sure i understand the motive behind this thread but if you are happy with multiple poems being posted perhaps 'poems of the day' might be a better title.
Either way I have no wish to get tangled in a personal spat between two people.
I like the idea of reading other peoples favorite poets as i for one need to read more.
one other thing,
is it o.k to post poems that are read on youtube?

     Eamon said: "perhaps 'poems of the day' might be a better title.
[font=Courier New][size=2]
  Yes, you're right. But, on thinking about it, I've changed it to
  "Poems of the Days - Free Speech" as that seems to say it best (IMHO).

The Mother

I do not grudge them: Lord, I do not grudge
My two strong sons that I have seen go out
To break their strength and die, they and a few,
In bloody protest for a glorious thing,
They shall be spoken of among their people,
The generations shall remember them,
And call them blessed;
But I will speak their names to my own heart
In the long nights;
The little names that were familiar once
Round my dead hearth.
Lord, thou art hard on mothers:
We suffer in their coming and their going;
And tho' I grudge them not, I weary, weary
Of the long sorrow--And yet I have my joy:
My sons were faithful, and they fought.
-- Padraic H Pearse

The Freshness by Rumi

When it's cold and raining,
you are more beautiful.
And the snow brings me
even closer to your lips
The inner secret, that which was never born,
you are that freshness, and I am with you now.
I can't explain the goings,
or the comings. You enter suddenly,
and I am nowhere again.
Inside the majesty.

dont know the title

" At what moment does the knife wound sink so deep that the flesh begins to weep with love? At first power, power, then the wound, and love, and love and fears, and the loss of the self, and the gift, and slavery. At first I ruled, loved less; then more, then slavery. Slavery to his image, his odor, the craving, the hunger, the thirst, the obsession.”

— Anais Nin

This is my favourite poem of any days I have had in the past, I assure you Ray I will happily post any poem(s) on any future day(s) that I may feel are my favourite on that day...

Thank you for taking the time to create a thread that all can participate in...mighty kind of you...albeit without a delete button

It is written by: Mike the Engineer

Madman Diaries

I.

And so it began. Running wild,
homeless and bereft of belongings,
came the wild-eyed stranger—
no, strange man. No stranger
to the best of us, not a man
hasn’t felt that blind running.

The wild eyes captured all.
Framed by the rest of his face,
by those greasy curls, sweat-laden
and seeming to tremble with hopeless
energy even as they flew—
a thousand trails to his eyes.

Those two black holes, pulling in
everything but giving nothing.
Bounding, stumbling, flinging himself
headlong anywhere,
those eyes became still as the world
careened wildly about them.

We watched him go. Shook heads, slowly
creaked back into gear, pitied the man
with nothing going for him but speed.
Speeding towards nothing, speeding
from everything, just ragged breaths
and a thousand old ghosts.


II.

They introduced us on my first day.
It felt like I was shaking hands with
one of the vises on the workbench,
for all the character he showed.
Stitched to his cigarette,
bolted to his bottles, sliding along

slotted tracks in the floor. Monotony,
repetition, firmly within the bounds
of his comfort zone, that monk’s black cell.
Just diamond-plate skin,
hydraulic muscles, carbon veins
and that black hole inside.

Things crush a man. The daily grind
curls his hands, the brightest star
in the galaxy implodes, darkens,
leaves that permanent sucking void
inside his chest, tearing him down
from the inside, Gothic abutments razed.

No wonder he died of a heart attack.
The tight dull pain in his chest
was just worse than usual that day.
They figure he sighed, took two aspirin
and a shot of whiskey, put on his hat,
and shuffled bent into oblivion.


III.

The waif lies dying in her bed.
She smiles, taut lips drawn back
to show teeth more bone-white
than what already shines through
the papery skin of her bald head.
I watch with silent eyes across the room.

The doctor asks questions.
She answers with stitches
wrapped tight around the void—
but it threatens to break free,
to burst through the oilcloth
she’s woven around it. It will

wash her frail self away in the maelstrom,
sucking her into that pitiless black hole.
Each day stitches burst,
and she’s all but lost the battle to keep
the nothingness from overwhelming her.
Stitch-stitch, snap-burst, replace.

You can see the panic shining through the calm,
as clear as her skull. She’s translucent,
transparent. The doctor hesitates,
broaches a subject with such concern
she can grasp onto it, a lifeline thrown
as the black hole breaks free underneath.

Time to set blurted regrets over the great dustbowl conspiracy on the back burner and pray that the bigamy rap wont stick just in case that artful cat's paw which yanked Ray's stetson off last Sunday and swept it skywards before he could set foot in church to atone for his sins really is an omen after all...

Raybo mosquito
(deleto selecto)
jolts in his asleep
through a world of cognito
Him shapeshifter picture
wishing invisible
pants round his ankles
he secretly dribbles
at the noose round his neck
he's longing to nibble
Tongue buttoned scheming
hatless in Texas
pretty piss in the wind
since frog face can't vex us
Dragged back to the swamp
by Canadian screaming
though whatever he writes
his missus keeps reading
quel faux-pas
tra-la-la
la-la

Aish said:The Freshness by Rumi

When it's cold and raining,
you are more beautiful.
And the snow brings me
even closer to your lips
The inner secret, that which was never born,
you are that freshness, and I am with you now.
I can't explain the goings,
or the comings. You enter suddenly,
and I am nowhere again.
Inside the majesty.

Its beautifull!

So summer is gone
Leaving no epitaph
It's still warm in the sun
Only thats not enough

All thats true could have come
Like a five fingerd fluff
Folded into my palm
Only thats not enough

No evil was slighted
In the good aftermath
The World was festively lighted
Only thats not enough

Life was forever tucking
Caring
Making me laugh
I was really lucky
Only thats not enough

No leaves ever seared
No limbs broken rough
Day
Like glass
Washed all clear
Only
Thats not enough


No idea who wrote this but its from the movie stalker. which is one of my favourite movies of all time. And an absolute must for any artsy out of it movie buff.

U.A Fanthorpe is a highly underrated poet who i enjoy immensely. This is my favourite of hers, titled 'Collateral Damage'. It comforted me and i read it alot when i had my breakdown.

Barbaric, unruly, alarming,
The power of those who would rather not;

Who, while the others are chewing or snoring
or pondering duty-free,
sustain, by a massive exertion of will
the whole company in air;

Or who avert their magic eyes
from small useful shops in marginal districts,
since if they look, the next message will be
closing down sale and everything must go;

Like the man whose son was riding
the Derby favourite.
Family watched downstairs,
but he ran a bath, laid his dangerous body in it,
earthed it in water,
Made himself harmless;

And those spires,
fragile, audacious, that hover and start
to waver in air when the wrong eyes look.
Safer the parish with its
twice-a-year congregation
whose harvest offerings come to church privately
and after dark: dogged, perculiar, warm.

hellos to all in advance and with somthing to add ..it wasn't written by anyone famous I can say for sure but I thought alot of people might be able to relate


Can’t help that my voice shakes
I’m standing up here looking out
With the lights shining on me for the first time

It’s not just my voice that’s shaking
You know that sound right before you speak
When you can hear everyone out there watching
Hear them all holding their breath
Waiting for you to take your first

I’m standing up here looking out
The lights are shining down on me for the first time
I can barely breathe for all the stillness that’s waiting
For me to take my first

I’m sorry that my voice shakes
But it’s not the only part of me that is
I’m petrified to be standing up here
Under the eyes of so many that are far better than I could ever be

I take my first well all of them are watching
My mind hisses with self doubt
And I can’t stop my legs from trembling under me

I think how the laughter might ring out if I were to collapse
But the only thing I can here is my voice
Echoed out over the stillness
Everyone still holding their breath

Slowly the passion written invisible between the lines of my first
Push’s its way into my voice
Until there is so much of it the shaking is smothered into nothing

I’m still petrified
As these lights shine down on me for the first time
And I stand before all these people
That are far better than I could ever be
As they all hold their breath
Listening to my first

Suddenly it’s all over
Every one that sat so silently listening to my first
They stand now
All of these people that are so much better than I could ever be

They are applauding
I am shaking again

I think I will every time I stand up here
Listening to the silence of everyone holding their breath
As the lights shine down on me for what feels like the first time
I’ll still be petrified

Still be sorry that my voice shakes
That at any moment I might collapse
But I’ll always come back

Because the passion written invisible between the lines
Will come out again and smother my shaking into nothing
But I’ll still remember my first

Even on my last
I’ll still be petrified

fuck that was good miss_sub. I loved its rhythm

Check out more of her stuff, she's wonderful :)