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Thread: If you could what would you write ...

  1. #1
    Join Date
    Mar 2010
    Posts
    364

    If you could what would you write ...

    I love poetry and when I'm down or up, I can always drag something out match the mood.

    I can't stand at a window in Summer without thinking of Keat's Ode to a Nightingale

    Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

    I wonder often if he suffered depression. But if I want to be depressed and there are days then Auden's Funeral Blues hits the mark

    Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
    Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
    Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
    Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

    Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
    Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
    Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
    Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

    He was my North, my South, my East and West,
    My working week and my Sunday rest,
    My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
    I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

    The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
    Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
    Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
    For nothing now can ever come to any good
    __________________
    one of us
    Made for spirituality, we wallow in introspection.
    Made for joy, we settle for pleasure.
    Made for justice, we clamour for vengeance.
    Made for relationship, we insist on our own way.
    Made for beauty, we are satisfied with sentiment.
    But new creation has already begun.
    The sun has begun to rise.


    Tom Wright, The Bishop of Durham
    from Simply Christian


  2. #2
    Join Date
    Jan 2009
    Posts
    1,260

    Re: If you could what would you write ...

    I've always though this poem sums me up.


    Stevie Smith - Not waving but drowning


    Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning:
    I was much further out than you thought and not waving but drowning.
    Poor chap, he always loved larking and now he's dead.
    It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,They said.
    Oh, no no no, it was too cold always(Still the dead one lay moaning)
    I was much too far out all my life and not waving but drowning.


    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NC2b9...=youtube_gdata
    Last edited by mick_uk; 18-04-10 at 10:11.
    __________________
    Never trust a man, who when left alone in a room with a tea cosey... Doesn't try it on

  3. #3
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    Re: If you could what would you write ...

    Sometimes I feel like a priest in a fish and chip queue,
    quietly thinking as the vinegar runs through,
    how nice it would be to buy supper for two.

    Roger McGough
    __________________
    "Never wear anything that panics the cat"
    P. J. O'Rourke

  4. #4
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    Re: If you could what would you write ...

    I like that one Veronica, never heard it before
    __________________
    Never trust a man, who when left alone in a room with a tea cosey... Doesn't try it on

  5. #5
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    Re: If you could what would you write ...

    Hi Nick/Mick
    This will be an interesting thread for us all, and I like both of your contributions.

    Veronicax
    __________________
    "Never wear anything that panics the cat"
    P. J. O'Rourke

  6. #6
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    Re: If you could what would you write ...

    Mother, any distance greater than a single span
    requires a second pair of hands.
    You come to help me measure windows, pelmets, doors,
    the acres of the walls, the prairies of the floors.

    You at the zero-end, me with the spool of tape, recording
    length, reporting metres, centimetres back to base, then leaving
    up the stairs, the line still feeding out, unreeling
    years between us. Anchor. Kite.

    I space-walk through the empty bedrooms, climb
    the ladder to the loft, to breaking point, where something
    has to give;
    two floors below your fingertips still pinch
    the last one-hundredth of an inch...I reach
    towards a hatch that opens on an endless sky
    to fall or fly.

    Mother by Simon Armitage
    Veronicax
    __________________
    "Never wear anything that panics the cat"
    P. J. O'Rourke

  7. #7
    Join Date
    May 2009
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    2,228

    Re: If you could what would you write ...

    Climbing up a mountain,
    Pulling yourself higher and
    higher.
    Out of the pit of misery.
    Things seem to look brighter.
    Grass is growing, Birds are
    singing,
    And the sun emerges from the
    clouds.
    Then you start to slip,
    To lose your grasp,
    And down you fall.
    Not quite to the bottom,
    Just teetering on a ledge,
    Could you go over at any moment
    Have you the strength to climb
    again?
    The pain of your cut soul
    Burns like a fire,
    The anger, hurt and frustration
    Come flooding back into your
    mind.
    The fight for survival starts
    again.
    Overcome the fear,
    Search for the holds,
    Rely on the support from before.
    I know it's going to be difficult,
    But you did it once,
    You can do it again.
    Remember, you're not the only
    one -
    Out there are other climbers
    Fighting their own battles,
    Searching their own soul
    And conquering their own
    mountains.


    . . . . . . . . . .by emma nurton

  8. #8
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    Jan 2009
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    1,260

    Re: If you could what would you write ...

    Said Hamlet to Ophelia,

    I'll draw a sketch of thee,

    What kind of pencil shall I use?

    2B or not 2B?
    __________________
    Never trust a man, who when left alone in a room with a tea cosey... Doesn't try it on

  9. #9
    Join Date
    Mar 2010
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    Re: If you could what would you write ...

    To all our members of the fairest sex

    Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
    Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
    Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
    And Summer's lease hath all too short a date:
    Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
    And oft' is his gold complexion dimm'd;
    And every fair from fair sometime declines,
    By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:
    But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
    Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
    Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
    When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

    So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
    __________________
    one of us
    Made for spirituality, we wallow in introspection.
    Made for joy, we settle for pleasure.
    Made for justice, we clamour for vengeance.
    Made for relationship, we insist on our own way.
    Made for beauty, we are satisfied with sentiment.
    But new creation has already begun.
    The sun has begun to rise.


    Tom Wright, The Bishop of Durham
    from Simply Christian


  10. #10
    Join Date
    Jul 2008
    Posts
    2,429

    Re: If you could what would you write ...

    I stole through the dungeons, while everyone slept,
    Till I came to the cage where the monster was kept,
    There, locked in the arms of a Giant Baboon,
    Rigid and smiling, lay....Mrs Ravoon!

    I climbed the clock-tower in the first morning sun
    And 'twas midday at least ere my journey was done;
    But the clock never sounded the last stroke of noon,
    For there, from the clapper, swung Mrs Ravoon.

    I hauled in the line, and I took my first look
    At the half eaten horror that hung from the hook.
    I had dragged from the depths of the limpid lagoon
    The luminous body of Mrs Ravoon.

    I fled in the storm, through lightning and thunder,
    And there, as a flash split the darkness asunder,
    Chewing a rat's-tail and mumbling a rune,
    Mad in the moat squatted Mrs Ravoon.

    I stood by the waters so green and so thick,
    And I stirred at the scum with my old, withered stick;
    When there rose through the ooze, like a monstrous balloon,
    The bloated cadaver of Mrs Ravoon.

    Facing the fens, I looked back from the shore
    Where all had been empty a moment before;
    And there, by the light of the Lincolnshire moon,
    Immense on the marshes, stood Mrs Ravoon!

    Alternative Endings To An Unwritten Ballad by Paul Dehn

    Feel free to contribute your own alternative endings
    Veronicax
    __________________
    "Never wear anything that panics the cat"
    P. J. O'Rourke

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