We've covered favorite paintings, artists, and the like. Hows about poetry?

My favorite poem is One Train May Hide Another by Kenneth Koch. I have it xeroxed and taped on my wall.

My favorite part is:

One love may hide another love
or the same love
As when "I love you" suddenly rings false and one discovers
The better love lingering behind, as when "I'm full of doubts"
Hides "I'm certain about something and it is that"


[This message was edited Thu Jan 16 20:45:06 PST 2003 by Natsume]

My favorite poem is by Samuel Wesley and it is called "On A Supper of Stinking Ducks."












laureate edit
[This message was edited Thu Jan 16 20:56:27 PST 2003 by 2the9s]

9s, stop farting on my thread

Yes... THAT'S MINE!!!
Of You...
Did you ever think about
Too much time
And how some people must be
So lonely
There was a time I was
But now
I have so many thaughts
Of you...

Robert Jerald Stokes
[This message was edited Fri Jan 17 0:57:18 PST 2003 by 00769BAD]
[This message was edited Fri Jan 17 21:45:04 PST 2003 by 00769BAD]

De Colores

Color U Plagued with quiet pain
Color U Purple as U Reign
Color U Mysterious, U can't C through it
The Question of U, Will U do R don't do it
Color U Amber, U Speak with ur 's
Color U Silent...Color U Disguised

Color U N-tense N Ur effort 2 reveal
There R Colors that Hurt,
U no Some will Heal
Coloring U Sex, was 2 Color a Touch, but
Touch was a Color U didn't get much...of

Color U Distant, Farther than Far
The Color N-Visible IS what U R
Special Glasses R needed 2 C U N Ur World
U offer a pair made of Diamonds and Pearl

Colored U Lace, Flowers and Dolphins
Colored U Paisley, Face Down n Coffins
Colored U FE, though clearly quite MALE
Threw that paint on U STRAIGHT out the Pale

Once Colored Ur hair a brassy fawn
Colored U Eccentric, Colored U Dawn
'THE DAWN' U asked Us 2 Live 2 C
Colored U-U-U Colored Me
Colored Me a fan, but made Me a FRIEND
A Portrait N TRUTH, ALL THE LINES FILLED N

Colored U Permission 2 B Who U Were
Colored U FREE! Then Colored U SIR.
Colored U old, saw U turn New
Colored U single, but LOVE married U
Took ALL the Colors Of Ur GRAND DESIGN
Captured the Picture 4EVER, 4 ALL TIME

Colored U Museum, saw pictures of Ur Past
Pictures Color U, 'THE ARTIST'

The Paintbrush? Music

and

UR MUSIC?...

:LUV: CoLoRFasT :LUV:



from the Prince Novel, '7' by TayknmiAzziz
(c) 97


there r others n the book, but Prince personally gave her props 4 this one!

Lachrimae Amantis
(Lovers' Tears)

What is there in my heart that you should sue
so fiercely for its love? What kind of care
brings you as though a stranger to my door
through the long night and in the icy dew

seeking the heart that will not harbor you,
that keeps itself religiously secure?

At this dark solstice filled with frost and fire
your passion's ancient wounds must bleed anew.

So many nights the angel of my house
has fed such urgent comfort through a dream,
whispered, 'your lord is coming, he is close'

that I have drowsed half-faithful for a time
bathed in pure tones of promise and remorse:
'tomorrow I shall wake to welcome him.'

-- Geoffrey Hill

Cotton Candy on a Rainy Day
By Nikki Giovanni




Don't look now



I'm fading away


Into the gray of my mornings



Or the blues of every night



Is it that my nails



keep breaking



Or maybe the corn



on my second little piggy



Things keep popping out



on my face



or



of my life



It seems no matter how



I try I become more difficult



to hold



I am not an easy woman



to want



They have asked



the psychiatrists . . . psychologists . . . politicians and social workers



What this decade will be



known for



There is no doubt . . . it is



loneliness

Alone
Maya Angelou

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Fate's Cruel Blow


Oh! to be a cauliflower
beside a Brussel Sprout
deep within my cauli heart
I'd positively shout

I'd be happy in a casserole
consomme or stew
oh! my little Brussel Sprout
if there I was with you

I'd pass up all the carrots
the peas hold no attraction
from my little Brussel Sprout
I'd get my satisfaction

I'd swim on through the gravy
with hope arising still
oh! my little Brussel Sprout
love, must have it's fill

Searching for my long lost love
I'd inch across the plate
oh! my little Brussel Sprout
I fear it is too late

With knife and fork descending
the end is very near
oh! my little Brussel Sprout
do not shed a tear

With cries of help ascending
as I slithered down his throat
oh! my little Brussel Sprout
I hope the blighter chokes !!


!!!

On Marriage

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.

You shall be together when white wings of death scatter your days.

Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,

And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another but make not a bond of love:

Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.

Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.

For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together, yet not too near together:

For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow

Kahlil Gibran

Lleena said:

Words- Syliva Plath



Axes
After whose stroke the wood rings,
And the echoes!
Echoes traveling
Off from the center like horses.

The sap
Wells like tears, like the
Water striving
To re-establish its mirror
Over the rock

That drops and turns,
A white skull,
Eaten by weedy greens.
Years later I
Encounter them on the road---

Words dry and riderless,
The indefatigable hoof-taps.
While
From the bottom of the pool, fixed stars
Govern a life.
[This message was edited Fri Jan 17 18:09:02 PST 2003 by Lleena]

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI (1828-1882)


INSOMNIA





Thin are the night-skirts left behind
By daybreak hours that onward creep,
And thin, alas! the shred of sleep
That wavers with the spirit's wind:
But in half-dreams that shift and roll
And still remember and forget,
My soul this hour has drawn your soul
A little nearer yet.

Our lives, most dear, are never near, Our
thoughts are never far apart,
Though all that draws us heart to heart
Seems fainter now and now more clear.
To-night Love claims his full control,
And with desire and with regret
My soul this hour has drawn your soul
A little nearer yet.

Is there a home where heavy earth
Melts to bright air that breathes no pain,
Where water leaves no thirst again
And springing fire is Love's new birth?
If faith long bound to one true goal
May there at length its hope beget,
My soul that hour shall draw your soul
For ever nearer yet.

"Still I Rise"

by Maya Angelou

Some of my faves from when I was a schoolkid were "Ozymandias" by PB Shelley, "Because I Could Not Stop For Death" by Emily Dickinson, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by TS Eliot, "Somewhere I Have Never Travelled" by EE Cummings, and "The Lake Isle of Inisfree" by WB Yeats. Actually I liked most of WB Yeats' work, and Shakespeare's sonnets.

Nowadays I like the poetry of Chuck D, Tupac Shakur, Marvin Gaye etc, Curtis Mayfield etc

unlovely and unlike a dimple
it sits on the skin; the pimple.

wages war on your nose
all the while grows and grows

don't bother to squeeze
this will not bring you ease

as it swells and it swells
where it sits! throbbing hell


and then POP@ one day goes!

the way you take your bus pass
from your purse and board
the way you then get off the bus
and walk a block or more

the rhythym in your footsteps
the swing of purse on thigh
i watch you all excited
and i'm not far behind

darling you're enchanting
a siren with your song
i tiptoe just behind you
oh good! we're almost home

i'm hiding in the tree outside
your window filled with awe
i'm filming every moment and
you leave me wanting more

your shadow silhouetted
against your window light
i watch as you're undressing
a glory in the night

oh shit the cops are coming
how could you call again?
we had an understanding
you know that i'm your friend?

i'll leave you for the night dear
don't worry i'll be back
and next time please don't call the cops
cut me a little slack

I'm so glad this thread took off. I abandoned it yesterday after 9s farted on it.

I love the poem Y..r D..k by Ron Padgett. Here's the first few lines:

It w.s c...h f.r t..m to go b..k to t.e h..e
T..y h.d r..d a...t it

i agree. sometimes 2the9s' behavior up in here is, well, a little bit. . . off imho


___
i am not obsessed with the word 'mumu'.

Fleas

Adam had 'em

[whoa whoa whoa]
WAR!!!
what is it good for?
absolutely nothing
[say it again]
[This message was edited Fri Jan 17 20:02:42 PST 2003 by XxAxX]

Eulalie
by Edgar Allen Poe

I dwelt alone
In a world of moan,
And my soul was a stagnant tide
Till the fair and gentle Eulalie
became my blushing bride-
Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie
became my smiling bride.

Ah, less -- less bright
Are the stars of night
Than the eyes of the radiant girl!
And never a flake
That the vapor can make
With the moon-tints of purple and pearl,
Can vie with the modest Eulalie's
most unregarded curl-
Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's
most humble and careless curl.

Now Doubt -- now Pain
Come never again,
For her soul gives me sigh for sigh
And all day long
Shines, bright and strong,
Astarte within the sky,
While ever to her dear Eulalie
upturns her matron eye-
While ever to her young Eulalie
upturns her violet eye.

another of mine
My Baby Girl
Do you know
That you are loved
And it's also me who loves you???
How can I make life
Your dream come true?
You know
Your dreams are my dream too.
What do you need?
I only hope I do all I can
To give those things to you.
I could do something selfless
I could be a lot of things, but
Because you are you
I could never be
Your only friend
Would you beleive you could be mine?
Did you ever really wonder about love,
All the things love isnt.
Did you know that you are loved
And its me who loves you

Robert Jerald Stokes

Copyright ©2003 Robert Jerald Stokes
[This message was edited Fri Jan 17 21:46:22 PST 2003 by 00769BAD]

00769BAD said:

deep breath AWWW!

william wordsworth


ODE:
INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD
I

THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

II

The Rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the Rose,
The Moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare,
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

III

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong:
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,
The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every Beast keep holiday;--
Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Shepherd-boy!

IV

Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.
Oh evil day! if I were sullen
While Earth herself is adorning,
This sweet May-morning,
And the Children are culling
On every side,
In a thousand valleys far and wide,
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:--
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
--But there's a Tree, of many, one,
A single Field which I have looked upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The Pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

V

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But He beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.

VI

Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with something of a Mother's mind,
And no unworthy aim,
The homely Nurse doth all she can
To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man,
Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came.

VII

Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years' Darling of a pigmy size!
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
With light upon him from his father's eyes!
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself with newly-learned art;
A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral;
And this hath now his heart,
And unto this he frames his song:
Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
But it will not be long
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
The little Actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his "humorous stage"
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
That Life brings with her in her equipage;
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.

VIII

Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy Soul's immensity;
Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,--
Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
On whom those truths do rest,
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave,
A Presence which is not to be put by;
Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!

IX

O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live,
That nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest--
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:--
Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise;
But for those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings;
Blank misgivings of a Creature
Moving about in worlds not realised,
High instincts before which our mortal Nature
Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised:
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
Are yet a master light of all our seeing;
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
To perish never;
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor Man nor Boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither,
Can in a moment travel thither,
And see the Children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

X

Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young Lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound!
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

XI

And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquished one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the Brooks which down their channels fret,
Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
Is lovely yet;
The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
1803-6.

sorry, it's kind of long.

OceanaOne said:

and the one that i did for NATSUME "the RAIN'
ain't too shabby either...

THE RAIN
by BAD...aka ROBERT JERALD STOKES
Oh my lil love NATSUME
it's rainin again,
can you get to me.
in times like this
you need to see
why the rain
is so cool with me.
yeah to get to me
you'll get a lil wet
but of the THANGS we'll do
that's not the ultimate.
and in thirty more years of time
you'll reminiss
on why i wrote this rhyme...
every time you see
THE RAIN.
AM I BAD, I AM BAD!!!
[This message was edited Sat Jan 18 8:52:15 PST 2003 by 00769BAD]