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Saint Vitus is the patron saint of actors, comedians, dancers, and of entertainers in general.
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Poetry I have discovered ....

Oct 30th 2012 new
When I am looking for distraction ...direction ... I will go looking for poetry that is off beat (at least off beat to me). I am no expert but when a poem "speaks" to me ... well I like that kind of discovery.

Believe it or not...I have never read any of Robert Frost's poetry. I stumbled across "Acquainted with the Night" and was charmed by this. So far, I haven't warmed up to his other stuff ...but did like the "November" poem below. Is there any particular writer and his/her poetry that you would like to share because of it's imagery or vividness - or the ability to touch the heart or senses?



Acquainted with the Night


I have been one acquainted with the night.

I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.

I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.

I have passed by the watchman on his beat

And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet

When far away an interrupted cry

Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;

And further still at an unearthly height,

A luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.

I have been one acquainted with the night.



My November Guest


My Sorrow, when she's here with me,

Thinks these dark days of autumn rain

Are beautiful as days can be;

She loves the bare, the withered tree;

She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.

She talks and I am fain to list:

She's glad the birds are gone away,

She's glad her simple worsted grey

Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,

The faded earth, the heavy sky,

The beauties she so truly sees,

She thinks I have no eye for these,

And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know

The love of bare November days

Before the coming of the snow,

But it were vain to tell her so,

And they are better for her praise

Robert Frost
Oct 31st 2012 new

Do you remember the old show, "Beauty and the Beast"? They put out a cassette (back in the day) of 'Vincent' reading poetry. Very lovely and I still enjoy listening to it today. But here is Acquainted.... www.youtube.com

I like Robert Frost. We studied some of his works in World Lit in high school. I remember well The Road Not Taken.

I also particularily like Robert Burns. His work, "A Red, Red Rose" is a beautiful poem and a lovely song.

O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

Richard Lovelace, a short, yet powerful poem. (I'm related to him, too)

Tell me not (Sweet) I am unkind,
That from the Nunnery
Of thy chaste breast, and quiet mind,
To War and Arms I flee.

True, a new Mistress now I chase,
The first Foe in the Field;
And with a stronger Faith embrace
A Sword, a Horse, a Shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not Honour more.

I can't let this thread go without mentioning St John of the Cross...The Spiritual Canticle is one of the most beautiful and moving works.... well worth study. It's...intense and long, so I will not post but the first four stanzas here.

Where have You hidden Yourself,
And abandoned me in my groaning, O my Beloved?
You have fled like the hart,
Having wounded me.
I ran after You, crying; but You were gone.

O shepherds, you who go
Through the sheepcots up the hill,
If you shall see Him
Whom I love the most,
Tell Him I languish, suffer, and die.

In search of my Love
I will go over mountains and strands;
I will gather no flowers,
I will fear no wild beasts;
And pass by the mighty and the frontiers.

O groves and thickets
Planted by the hand of the Beloved;
O verdant meads
Enameled with flowers,
Tell me, has He passed by you?

Oct 31st 2012 new

I wrote this poem Laurie. Hope you like it.

YOU ARE THEM

You are King Cheops of the mighty Egypt

who made the world wonder worthy of praise.

Though I am tired, fatigue, and helpless,

I can build a pyramid for my love is restless.

You are the Romeo of the famous Shakespeare

who knew no bars just his love of Juliet.

Though life is colorful, enjoyable, and sweet,

I am willing to die for my love is real.

Longfellow created you as the patient Gabriel

who waited for Evangeline with his love sublime.

Though Fate is uncertain, heartless, and cruel,

my love can wait for it knows no time.

You are the Robert Browning of the proud England

who made Elizabeth known throughout the land.

Though I am simple, naive, and not gifted,

With your inspiration I can be famous and noted.

By Me

Oct 31st 2012 new
(Quote) Kelly-215783 said: Do you remember the old show, "Beauty and the Beast"? They put out a cassette (back in the day) of &...
(Quote) Kelly-215783 said:

Do you remember the old show, "Beauty and the Beast"? They put out a cassette (back in the day) of 'Vincent' reading poetry. Very lovely and I still enjoy listening to it today. But here is Acquainted.... www.youtube.com



I like Robert Frost. We studied some of his works in World Lit in high school. I remember well The Road Not Taken.



I also particularily like Robert Burns. His work, "A Red, Red Rose" is a beautiful poem and a lovely song.



O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.



As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:



Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.



And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.



Richard Lovelace, a short, yet powerful poem. (I'm related to him, too)



Tell me not (Sweet) I am unkind,
That from the Nunnery
Of thy chaste breast, and quiet mind,
To War and Arms I flee.



True, a new Mistress now I chase,
The first Foe in the Field;
And with a stronger Faith embrace
A Sword, a Horse, a Shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not Honour more.



I can't let this thread go without mentioning St John of the Cross...The Spiritual Canticle is one of the most beautiful and moving works.... well worth study. It's...intense and long, so I will not post but the first four stanzas here.

Where have You hidden Yourself,
And abandoned me in my groaning, O my Beloved?
You have fled like the hart,
Having wounded me.
I ran after You, crying; but You were gone.

O shepherds, you who go
Through the sheepcots up the hill,
If you shall see Him
Whom I love the most,
Tell Him I languish, suffer, and die.

In search of my Love
I will go over mountains and strands;
I will gather no flowers,
I will fear no wild beasts;
And pass by the mighty and the frontiers.

O groves and thickets
Planted by the hand of the Beloved;
O verdant meads
Enameled with flowers,
Tell me, has He passed by you?

--hide--


Those are so pretty Kelly. I will definitely have to read up on Robert Burns ...
Oct 31st 2012 new
(Quote) Liberacion-894835 said: I wrote this poem Laurie. Hope you like it. Y...
(Quote) Liberacion-894835 said:



I wrote this poem Laurie. Hope you like it.





YOU ARE THEM



You are King Cheops of the mighty Egypt



who made the world wonder worthy of praise.



Though I am tired, fatigue, and helpless,



I can build a pyramid for my love is restless.





You are the Romeo of the famous Shakespeare



who knew no bars just his love of Juliet.



Though life is colorful, enjoyable, and sweet,



I am willing to die for my love is real.





Longfellow created you as the patient Gabriel



who waited for Evangeline with his love sublime.



Though Fate is uncertain, heartless, and cruel,



my love can wait for it knows no time.





You are the Robert Browning of the proud England



who made Elizabeth known throughout the land.



Though I am simple, naive, and not gifted,



With your inspiration I can be famous and noted.





By Me

--hide--


That is very creative! Did you take poetry in school?
Oct 31st 2012 new

(Quote) Laurie-770331 said: That is very creative! Did you take poetry in school?
(Quote) Laurie-770331 said:

That is very creative! Did you take poetry in school?
--hide--

No Laurie. I am a poet. I have a collection of the poems I wrote. I will not write all here to give others their space. Thanks Laurie Here is another one, but the others might go later when others do not join and I find an extra space.

I WISH I WERE SPECIAL TO HIM

I wish I were special to him

when he smells the fragrance of the roses,

and he touches their tender petals;

he thinks of me.

I wish I were special to him

when he starts to sing a love song,

and he needs someone who listens;

he calls my name.

I wish I were special to him

when he sleeps alone and lonely,

and he turns around so gently;

he dreams of me.

I wish I were special to him

when he feels the joy of living,

and he needs someone to share with;

he lives for me.

By: ME

Oct 31st 2012 new
(Quote) Liberacion-894835 said: No Laurie. I am a poet. I have a collection of the poems I wrote. I will not write all her...
(Quote) Liberacion-894835 said:



No Laurie. I am a poet. I have a collection of the poems I wrote. I will not write all here to give others their space. Thanks Laurie Here is another one, but the others might go later when others do not join and I find an extra space.





I WISH I WERE SPECIAL TO HIM





I wish I were special to him



when he smells the fragrance of the roses,



and he touches their tender petals;



he thinks of me.



I wish I were special to him



when he starts to sing a love song,



and he needs someone who listens;



he calls my name.



I wish I were special to him



when he sleeps alone and lonely,



and he turns around so gently;



he dreams of me.



I wish I were special to him



when he feels the joy of living,



and he needs someone to share with;



he lives for me.



By: ME

--hide--


Very very nice, thank you!
Oct 31st 2012 new

Laurie ---

My Monsignor often used The Hound of Heaven in his homilies. It's by Francis Thompson..his is a tragic story. www.poemhunter.com




I write too, but few have read them. If interested, I'll give you the link.


Oct 31st 2012 new
(Quote) Laurie-770331 said: When I am looking for distraction ...direction ... I will go looking for poetry that is off beat (at least off be...
(Quote) Laurie-770331 said: When I am looking for distraction ...direction ... I will go looking for poetry that is off beat (at least off beat to me). I am no expert but when a poem "speaks" to me ... well I like that kind of discovery.



Believe it or not...I have never read any of Robert Frost's poetry. I stumbled across "Acquainted with the Night" and was charmed by this. So far, I haven't warmed up to his other stuff ...but did like the "November" poem below. Is there any particular writer and his/her poetry that you would like to share because of it's imagery or vividness - or the ability to touch the heart or senses?







Acquainted with the Night




I have been one acquainted with the night.



I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.



I have outwalked the furthest city light.



I have looked down the saddest city lane.



I have passed by the watchman on his beat



And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.



I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet



When far away an interrupted cry



Came over houses from another street,



But not to call me back or say good-bye;



And further still at an unearthly height,



A luminary clock against the sky



Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.



I have been one acquainted with the night.







My November Guest




My Sorrow, when she's here with me,



Thinks these dark days of autumn rain



Are beautiful as days can be;



She loves the bare, the withered tree;



She walks the sodden pasture lane.



Her pleasure will not let me stay.



She talks and I am fain to list:



She's glad the birds are gone away,



She's glad her simple worsted grey



Is silver now with clinging mist.



The desolate, deserted trees,



The faded earth, the heavy sky,



The beauties she so truly sees,



She thinks I have no eye for these,



And vexes me for reason why.



Not yesterday I learned to know



The love of bare November days



Before the coming of the snow,



But it were vain to tell her so,



And they are better for her praise



Robert Frost
--hide--


Love

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers

I ache from the perfumes of spring.

I have forgotten your face,

I no longer remember your hands;

how did your lips feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks

the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;

I have forgotten your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume,

I am bound to my vague memory of you.

I live with pain that is like a wound;

if you touch me, you will do me irreparable harm.

Your caresses enfold me,

like climbing vines on melancholy walls.

I have forgotten your love,

yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me;

because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitates desires:

shooting stars and falling objects.

(Pablo Neruda)
Oct 31st 2012 new

..dark nights...

Dark nights
travel like a whispering shadow
that fill and consume
the
light that
spills radiantly over
the dry and barren land

enveloping
all
that it touches
breaths are bated
and shallow

hearts thump a
slow
sonorous tune as if to say
help, alas I fall
surrounded within
darks
deadly halls

yet as breath does remain
a flicker of
light
holds the deepest darkness at bay

it's piercing screams
echo
dark and long
fading not into the distance
but to the darkest
depths
of our soul

save me
the cry continues to call
warmth I
need
assurance that you
truly are there

within the saddened
chamber
of my heart
I fight the darkness
yet I am only man
and weak
beyond bearing

your hand of grace
let me feel it's warmth
it's glow
sustain me
as I pass through
this dark night of my soul

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