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Poetry:

Keep the Road Real.

To keep the roads winding is to keep the road close..

to keep the wild rose in proportion to the width, and slow the traveller

For there is no destination if there is no destination

And since this is the end of the road, it is the headwaters of the stream

Headwaters start at the mountain, and are narrow and rocky, closely cropped

With Flowers all aglow along each bank; the storehouse of real wealth.

You are here. You have arrived. Stop and smell those roses.

True wealth really is green, and needs to be seen.

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Sand dollar

In life, we are alive

in death, we are no more

but life is a wheel, and we are the spokes

ever turning, supporting, and moving to the next..

and when life leaves our shells upon the shore

like a sand dollar, that was once and now no more...

yet spring's eternal returns to life

brings new offspring to the earth

and puts new dollars in each star

the arms the spokes, and center hub spins

as life's a wheel in the winds...

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Spinning Leaves

 

Found this in an Arbor Day Manual, ca 1907, and dressed it up a bit..

THE NEW HEART.

---------------

Would you understand

The language with silent word,

The speech of the brook and bird,

Of waves splashed along the sand?

 

Would you make your own

The meaning of the leaves,

The song the silence weaves

Where little winds make bows bend,

And water washes stone?

 

Would you know how sweet

The falling of the rain,

The Thrush's song in the lane-

All the tunes the days repeat?

 

Neither arms nor art,

No toil, can help your hear;

The secret of the ear

Is in the open heart;

 

..The secret of the year

Is among natures part.

 

based on John Vance Cheney's poem THE OPEN HEART.

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The willow in spring wears a grass skirt

and slowly sways to the gentle pulse of the wind..

air washes through, like the sounds of drifting sand

on an instrument only nature could make,

and plays a soft sweet tune on the lake in early June

For all to enjoy - sweet sound of freedom whispers through,

warm spring breeze, leaves of green; sky of blue.

 

 

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Hey guys, this is the first piece that I've wrote that I've submitted.

I hope you all like it.

 

ONE HUNDRED

 

There’s a kite caught in a tree not far from here.

It reminds me of you and me and our desperate love.....

Cause I can’t fly when you smother me,

but I’ll just fall to the ground without you, and our desperate love...

 

- You were the saddest song, that I could sing.

- You were a broken bridge dropping a thousand feet.

- You‘re my reason to try be everything....

- You were a starving child, on a TV screen.

- You were the ship beneath a storm mounting.

- You’re the broken hands on a pianist... You’re lost.

 

There’s a boy made of glass, Who stays out the rain,

'Cause he’ll slip and he’ll fall,and he’ll break his brain and then he’ll be gone...

But there’s a girl made of concrete who holds his hand.

She knows just want he wants, what he needs so he wont go smash under her.....

 

-You’re the only place, I really belong.

-You’re the line I scream in my favourite song.

-A mistake I made, I won’t admit was one....

-You’re a boiling day led out in the sun,

-When we’re all happy, and we love everyone.

-You bring me to think of what I’ll become, 'cause I’m scared.

 

...And You just seem to know me so well.

I cant remember anything before you came around.

It’s a joke to say I’d ever been as happy, but I am now.

...And you just seem to know me so well.

 

You were beautiful when you fell asleep...

Then you’d sit awake and you’d talk to me.

Tell me everything's going to be okay and we‘ll heal....

 

-You were a screaming mess on a hospital bed.

-You were a violent night thats ended in death.

-You were one hundred feet of emptiness below.....

 

-You're an accident in a roadside stare.

-You're a statue in a broken monument.

-You're a microphone picking up everything that I say....

 

-You're a little girl, trapped in an old deep well.

-You’re a time long ago, when I could still really feel,

Like I was still alive when I could still feel your hands on my skin.

 

-You’re the cruellest thoughts, that I could never tell.

-You’re the waving hands of my hardest farewell.

-You’re a daydream I won’t ever wake from.

 

You are Everything I hate, And I love, And I need....

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Thanks Bea!!:):):)

My name actually is Chuck.

chuck, or charles? :thinking: nice to meet you, and thanks for bring colours to the board. :D

 

well this previous talk about Dada, had made me just try it...

I just wrote a poem, in a different method as i used to...

 

is here, have a look if you wan't and feel free to give me your opionion. All is explained in that link too.

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Hmm...I finally understand what Dada means...I'm now not too sure is Map of your head was Dada or not...

 

A poem about my recent trip to China (not meaning to brag :P)

Air

A smog

A cloud

A city shroud

A dirt

A dust

The smell of rust

 

The roads

The lanes

All the same

The scarfs

The masks

An endless task

 

A pour

A rain

A city shame

A shadow

A sigh

The wave goodbye

 

-----

That one is mainly about the air in China, which is very smoggy, so I appreciate the air in Australia far more :D. Its also about saying goodbye to our tour guide, named Nina, she was funny and everybody misses her badly :confused:

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good one.. i like how it is short, and in the middle has a bit longer lines, really great one :thumbsup:

 

btw i didn't knew you've been in China recently :uhoh:

-------------------

btw i'm not sure if what i did is dada or not :thinking: is just a 'method' i always wanted to try and that i had finally do tried it.

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separated but by only the tiniest of bits

like waves on an ocean, from the shoals comes the mists..

Controlled worlds abound, yet nature holds firm

On the contract of truth, unearthed in the berm..

Life is and it isn't all that it seems

Upon closer examination unfurls like some dream

A deeper truth, how startling a hue

runs the deeper shades in the ocean of blue.

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Well Put!

 

Hmm...I finally understand what Dada means...I'm now not too sure is Map of your head was Dada or not...

 

A poem about my recent trip to China (not meaning to brag :P)

Air

A smog

A cloud

A city shroud

A dirt

A dust

The smell of rust

 

The roads

The lanes

All the same

The scarfs

The masks

An endless task

 

A pour

A rain

A city shame

A shadow

A sigh

The wave goodbye

 

-----

That one is mainly about the air in China, which is very smoggy, so I appreciate the air in Australia far more :D. Its also about saying goodbye to our tour guide, named Nina, she was funny and everybody misses her badly :confused:

Seems like what Mike had to say about his trip there as well! Busy people - but curious about outsiders.. Shanghai? Whereabouts were you?? Hopefully China will adopt better policies concerning air and water quality - it's taking a large toll on the citizens there as well.. Anywhohow, glad you got to see the world Rachel!!;););):)

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Upon the land

Lying asleep

into the deep

took the sand

one hour to fill

glasses half empty

cups over-full

brimming with confidence

on a plateau of hardened steel

sat the monk of St. Ibis

for five-hundred grand

pianos played on

as the marching band stole

past the strands on the ground

five hundred and four

with one-hundred sounds..

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The speed of water's flow

weathering as it goes

once the nature of the struggle

between rock and liquid earth

had been understood

revealing bands of time

in the rainbow earthy hues

while streams run full, swollen with mud

the display returns on sunny days

streams run; glaciers crawl; time is the watch.

with boundless spring

bubbling forth its cool refreshing views

and setting course for the bands to be seen

by tranqil eyes on the tranquil scene..

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As a graduate of English Literature, I must admit poetry was always my least favourite topic.

Until I was introduced to Robert Frost's poems...

His poems are underlined with the cold, harsh reality of life.

They're very powerful.

One of my favourites is "Home Burial" - much too long to post here. But check out http://www.ketzle.com/frost/homeburi.htm if you feel like having a look...

 

Like most poets, Frost writes about his own territory; rural New England during the first half of the twentieth century.

Moving stuff.

His life was plagued by loss and isolation; themes mirrored throughout each of his poems.

Ch-ch-check 'em out.

:)

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Frosty

 

Hayley, Frost's pretty frosty, I'll have to say! Very moving poem, but how sad, and yet true even today. New Englanders, especially rural, were so preoccupied with survival, I think loss was accepted more matter-of-factly, especially with regards to children, since childhood illness took so many youngsters before the day of vaccines and modern medicine, and so I think some adults tried not to get too emotionally attached to their children.. But it speaks also of the adult disjunction with compassion, and of the truer nature of children - as the adults are in some sense "trained" to be less compassionate. I guess we're all taught to have a thick hide as we grow up, but sometimes it's just not right when someone dies or has problems in life..

Why was poetry your least favorite subject?? I've always enjoyed poetry, as long as it wasn't forced upon me (strange how that works!). What is your favorite area of English literature then??

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What is your favorite area of English literature then??

 

Nice quote, chuck... :cool:

I agree with your point about the adults in Frost's poems not getting emotionally attached to their children; even though it goes against all aspects of human nature it was somehow "expected" of them, in order to actually survive and continue with their lives.

Before the advances in health and social care parents almost came to expect that at least one of their children would become the victim of the times.

 

On a similar note...I recently watched a programme on BBC1 called "Casualty 1907" and was shocked to actually learn from it that parents in the slums of East End London made a point of not seeking medical attention for their sick children in order to recieve the child's life insurance policies when he/she died... :stunned:

TV can have its educational purposes I guess...!

 

Anyway - I just loved the literature side of English - i.e. reading the novels and deciphering their political/social/historical connotations... Brilliant :D

The best book I read @ uni was Mrs Dalloway - have you read it? Superb... :cool:

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Your Wish Is My Command

 

This is all that I have at the moment but I might work at it a bit more.

 

I love you,

And I wished you loved me too,

but I know I am not her,

And so my wish remains unheard.

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