Its nice to escape to romanticsm every now and again, to test out your emotions. As much as we all, especially here, try to remain objective and emotionless, as a critical part of debating, lets not forget we are humans. Our gift and our menace is our emotions, so it is nice to indulge and create complexities through these. My favourite poem Is by Robert Frost. Its called to road not taken, you will proberbly know it. I mean I have a billion others; sonnets and so forth, but this one really hit home... for those that dont know it.... sucked in! heheheheh i mean ill quote it here for you. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
INCANTATION Human reason is beautiful and invincible. No bars, no barbed wire, no pulping of books, No sentence of banishment can prevail against it. It establishes the universal ideas in language, And guides our hand so we write Truth and Justice With capital letters, lie and oppression with small. It puts what should be above things as they are, Is an enemy of despair and a friend of hope. It does not know Jew from Greek or slave from master, Giving us the estate of the world to manage. It saves austere and transparent phrases From the filthy discord of tortured words. It says that everything is new under the sun, Opens the congealed fist of the past. Beautiful and very young are Philo-Sophia And poetry, her ally in the service of the good. As late as yesterday Nature celebrated their birth, The news was brought to the mountains by a unicorn and an echo. Their friendship will be glorious, their time has no limit. Their enemies have delivered themselves to destruction. --Czeslaw Milosz
Working Class Hero As soon as you're born they make you feel small By giving you no time instead of it all Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all A working class hero is something to be A working class hero is something to be They hurt you at home and they hit you at school They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules A working class hero is something to be A working class hero is something to be When they've tortured and scared you for 20 odd years Then they expect you to pick a career When you can't really function you're so full of fear A working class hero is something to be A working class hero is something to be Keep you doped wit religion and sex and TV And you think you're so clever and classless and free But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see A working class hero is something to be A working class hero is something to be There's room at the top they are telling you still But first you must learn how to smile as you kill If you want to be like the folks on the hill A working class hero is something to be If you want to be a hero just follow me If you want to be a hero well just follow me -John Lennon
You'll wait a long, long time for anything much To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves. The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch, Nor strike out fire from each other nor crash out loud. The planets seem to interfere in their curves But nothing ever happens, no harm is done. We may as well go patiently on with our life, And look elsewhere than to stars and moon and sun For the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane. It is true the longest drouth will end in rain, The longest peace in China will end in strife. Still it wouldn't reward the watcher to stay awake In hopes of seeing the calm of heaven break On his particular time and personal sight. That calm seems certainly safe to last to-night. - Robert Frost I like this line 'For the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane. It is true the longest drouth will end in rain, The longest peace in China will end in strife.' How true is that, craziness keeps us sane.
You'll wait a long, long time for anything much To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves. The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch, Nor strike out fire from each other nor crash out loud. The planets seem to interfere in their curves But nothing ever happens, no harm is done. We may as well go patiently on with our life, And look elsewhere than to stars and moon and sun For the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane. It is true the longest drouth will end in rain, The longest peace in China will end in strife. Still it wouldn't reward the watcher to stay awake In hopes of seeing the calm of heaven break On his particular time and personal sight. 'That calm seems certainly safe to last to-night. - Robert Frost 'For the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane. It is true the longest drouth will end in rain, The longest peace in China will end in strife.' How true is that, the constant craziness keeps us sane.
One of our members recommended this to me, and it's been a favorite ever since: Irene Rutherford Mcleod. Lone Dog I'M a lean dog, a keen dog, a wild dog, and lone; I'm a rough dog, a tough dog, hunting on my own; I'm a bad dog, a mad dog, teasing silly sheep; I love to sit and bay the moon, to keep fat souls from sleep. I'll never be a lap dog, licking dirty feet, A sleek dog, a meek dog, cringing for my meat, Not for me the fireside, the well-filled plate, But shut door, and sharp stone, and cuff and kick, and hate. Not for me the other dogs, running by my side, Some have run a short while, but none of them would bide. O mine is still the lone trail, the hard trail, the best, Wide wind, and wild stars, and hunger of the quest!
I appreciate romantic poems but im so fricken sick of everything to do with "love". Why? Simply because i have two pussy whipped brothers. (excuse me) later T But go back to poems They have such wonderful tones! Poems are quite Neat, Poems are simply a cool, cool Treat! But dont get too far from the main mat! Or you will get whipped by mister congrats! Later T (P.S I just made that poem)
Thats actually supposed to be: Or you will get whipped BY mister congrats! Thats referring to what he said about threads that go off topic, ect. Me? Issues? Nope. Im as perfect as perfect as can be, Believe me, Im perfect as a little bumble bee, Open up your eyes and see, Im perfect like the sea, And my nick name is T!
I wrote this prose-poem the other day. June 27, 2002 the thought of the elephant man has haunted me all my life -- such a gentle man... such a brave, gentle man... take heed.
This is one of my favorites, simple and elegant.... William Carlos Williams - The Red Wheelbarrow so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens.
well.. its not really about love (well it is but its hard to see).. but.. its the only one i know... Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! The world is a chessboard, in which we hop from sqaure to square we play the hands that we've been dealt, and join our hands in prayer. We dont see the beginning, we dont see the end. but what we do see is a detailed trail of events. And we are told to win. Each player has his pawn, each player has a color. They put us all on one chessboard, where we laugh and joke with eachother. but we are only figurines, not human minds at all. and we are made to fight our friends and batle them standing tall And we are told to win. And when the battle is over, and all the tears are shed, The player will put us in his little box, Till he needs us once again. And without a single thought, he will go on his merry way, but its been a while, and i heard that he might need us again soon someday. And we are told to win. And i heard he's opening our little box, and dusting off our colored squares. As we all try to see his intentions, but are left with blankly stares, and he's putting us in our little spots and telling us goodbye and he's setting up his game of chess to bargain with our lives. and we are told to win