4
   

Poetry Wanted: Seasons of a2k.

 
 
Tai Chi
 
  1  
Reply Mon 5 Oct, 2009 01:49 pm
@Francis,
Er...hastily backtracking if I appeared to be fishing for compliments. I guess I was thinking that if my audience was not familiar with French they could hardly fault me for mangling pronunciation.

I had a pleasant voice -- not exactly in Eva Cassidy's league. (Will stop digressing now.)
Francis
 
  1  
Reply Mon 5 Oct, 2009 01:54 pm
@Tai Chi,
Don't worry, I think I got the gist of what you were trying to convey..

0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Mon 5 Oct, 2009 02:01 pm
@tsarstepan,
tsarstepan, I love your cantata for Autumn.

"..a litany..a fuge...a harvest moon..." and the mood music was perfect.

Thank you for starting this thread.

tsarstepan
 
  2  
Reply Mon 5 Oct, 2009 06:19 pm
@Letty,
Thank you... and your welcome.
0 Replies
 
Gargamel
 
  4  
Reply Fri 9 Oct, 2009 08:11 pm
Maple Leaves and Seven Stars
by Bei Dao

The world is as small as a street scene
when we met you nodded briefly
dispensing with the past
and friendly greetings
happiness is just a passage perhaps
and all is at an end
but why do you still wear that red scarf
look, through the lace of maple leaves the sky
is very clear, and the sun
has shifted to the last windowpane

The seven stars ascending
behind the massive roofs
no longer look like a cluster of ripe grapes
it is another autumn
the street lights will soon be lit of course
I should dearly like to see your smile
forgiving but indifferent
and that calm gaze
the street lights will soon be lit
CalamityJane
 
  2  
Reply Fri 9 Oct, 2009 09:29 pm
This is the way that autumn came to the trees:
it stripped them down to the skin,
left their ebony bodies naked.
It shook out their hearts, the yellow leaves,
scattered them over the ground.
Anyone could trample them out of shape
undisturbed by a single moan of protest.

The birds that herald dreams
were exiled from their song,
each voice torn out of its throat.
They dropped into the dust
even before the hunter strung his bow.

Oh, God of May have mercy.
Bless these withered bodies
with the passion of your resurrection;
make their dead veins flow with blood again.

Give some tree the gift of green again.
Let one bird sing.

(Faiz Ahmed Faiz)
tsarstepan
 
  1  
Reply Fri 9 Oct, 2009 10:03 pm
@Gargamel,
That's a beautifully intimate poem.

And the great imagery in ...
look, through the lace of maple leaves the sky
and
The seven stars ascending
behind the massive roofs
no longer look like a cluster of ripe grapes


And I love when astronomy finds its way into the poetry I read.
0 Replies
 
tsarstepan
 
  1  
Reply Fri 9 Oct, 2009 10:04 pm
@CalamityJane,
That's a hauntingly depressing poem.
CalamityJane
 
  2  
Reply Fri 9 Oct, 2009 10:14 pm
@tsarstepan,
Yes, autumn can be quite depressing, especially towards the end when all
there is left is bare tree branches and a gray, moist and foggy sky. As beautiful
as September and parts of October are, November can be depressing.
0 Replies
 
dlowan
 
  2  
Reply Fri 9 Oct, 2009 10:15 pm
@tsarstepan,
Here's a happier one!!!

The greatest Spring poem in the language (IMHO)

Remembering the properer part of the world is in Spring....


1. The Prologue to the Canterbury Tales



Geoffrey Chaucer (1340(?)"1400)


WHAN that Aprille with his shoures soote
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,
And smale fowles maken melodye,
That slepen al the night with open ye,
(So priketh hem nature in hir corages:





Here's one with a pronunciation guide (though I thought there was some discord between those who favour a more French or a more German mode...but I digress:


Pronunciation Help

First 18 lines of the General Prologue

Whan that Aprille with his shoores soote
Wan thot A'prill with his sure-es so-tuh

The drought of March hath perced to the roote
The drewgt of March hath pear-said to the row-tuh

And bathed every vein in swich liquor
And ba-thed every vane in sweech lee-coor

Of which vertu engendred is the flour
of wheech ver-too en-jen-dred is the flu-er

When Zephyrus eek with his sweete breeth
When Zeph-er-us ache with his sway-tuh breath

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
In-spear-ed hath in every holt and heth

The tendre croppes and the yonge sun
The tawn-dray crop-pays and the young-gay soan

Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne
Hath in the rahm his hall-vey coors e-rown

And smale fowles maken melodye
And smal-ay foe-lays mock-en mel-oh-dee-uh

That slepen all the night with open eye
That slep-en all the neekdt with open ee-ah

So priketh hem nature in hir courages
So prick-eth him nah-tour in hear core-ahj-ez


And here's one modern English version:

When in April the sweet showers fall
That pierce March's drought to the root and all
And bathed every vein in liquor that has power
To generate therein and sire the flower;
When Zephyr also has with his sweet breath, 5
Filled again, in every holt and heath,
The tender shoots and leaves, and the young sun
His half-course in the sign of the Ram has run,
And many little birds make melody
That sleep through all the night with open eye 10
(So Nature pricks them on to ramp and rage)
0 Replies
 
Izzie
 
  2  
Reply Sat 10 Oct, 2009 03:27 am
Scél lem dúib
Irish 9thC

Summer Has Gone


Scél lem dúib:
dordaid dam,
snigid gaim,
ro-fáith sam;

gáeth ard úar,
ísel grían,
gair a rith,
ruirthech rían;

rorúad rath,
ro-cleth cruth,
ro-gab gnáth
giugrann guth;

ro-gab úacht
etti én,
aigre ré:
é mo scél.

Thus my song:
shouting stag;
drips down ice;
summer sags.

high wind wails.
sun can't pierce;
short its course.
sea swims fierce.

red run ferns,
shape concealed.
frequent calls
greygoose peal

fetters frost
seagulls strong.
time is ice;
thus my song.

tsarstepan
 
  1  
Reply Sat 10 Oct, 2009 12:08 pm
@Izzie,
Ooh... my first Gaelic poem!

Sounds like Irish autumns are bitterly cold.
0 Replies
 
tsarstepan
 
  1  
Reply Wed 9 Dec, 2009 01:30 am
Snow dances
before his eyes
canopy of falling
singular units of vestments
fly on.
0 Replies
 
Sglass
 
  2  
Reply Wed 9 Dec, 2009 02:33 am
Tropical vines hang from powerlines
swaying in a gentle hulu
The moon is early.
Tires crunch into pulverized
lava leaving a pattern which quickly
filled with raindrops from a passing
cloud.

The fall jungle shivered and hugged itself
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  3  
Reply Wed 9 Dec, 2009 06:22 am
tsar and sglass, love those two poems.

Than winter tiptoed in with icy crown,
And sent the snow awhirling everywhere.

She covered all the trees with softest down,
And left icicles where she combed her hair.

I sat and watched her blanket all the town
And felt her breath of frost seep from her lair.

written by a very young Letty.

tsarstepan
 
  1  
Reply Wed 9 Dec, 2009 11:12 am
@Letty,
Winter has truly manifested in your poem Letty. Very lovely.
0 Replies
 
tsarstepan
 
  2  
Reply Fri 28 Jan, 2011 07:11 pm
'Idealic evening
Gotham flour drifts to meet the
Met's tired exiles'

+
Evening at the Met
flurries and melancholy.
Better nights ahead?
Letty
 
  3  
Reply Mon 31 Jan, 2011 02:00 pm
@tsarstepan,
Lovely, tsar.

Oh, the swamps of quiet repression
Traveling slowly cross the moors

Feeling shades of deep regression
And my heart no longer soars

Is it some unseen transgression?
That my soul seeks and explores?

No, just a blackbird's strange expression
As in days of ancient lores.





eurocelticyankee
 
  1  
Reply Mon 31 Jan, 2011 02:06 pm
THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS
by: W.B. Yeats

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-VL41H2Sm0
0 Replies
 
eurocelticyankee
 
  1  
Reply Mon 31 Jan, 2011 02:30 pm
Reel of the Flickering Light.
Author: Colm Gallagher

I was walkin' home one evenin'
I know this takes some believin'
I met a group of creatures
with the strangest lookin' features
A poor ould dog and a worm and a weed
and a fine ould pidgeon yes indeed
Daddy longlegs jumped up sprite
and danced a reel
in the flickering light
Round we go, heel to the toe
Daddy longlegs jumped up sprite
and danced to the reel
in the flickering light

On his thin and wispy spindles
he was deft and he was nimble,
His eyes were scientific
and his dancin' was terrific.
The rats and the worms they made a din and the nettles in the corner took it in,
"Oh God" sez I,"tonight's the night we'll dance to the reel in the flickering light!"
round we go, heel to the toe
"Oh God" sez I,"tonight's the night we'll dance to the reel in the flickering light!"

Then he looked at me directly
with a gaze that could dissect me,
And he asked me in a whisper
"Have you got any sisters?"
"Good God Almighty' sez I to him
What sort of a man do you think I am?
I've only one and she's not your type, she wouldn't dance a reel in the flickering light!"
Round we go, heel to the toe
"I've only one and she's not your type, she wouldn't dance a reel in the flickering light!"

Says he
"Does she come from another planet? Does she have a bee in her bonnet?
Does she do her daily duties? You never know we might be suited."
And the rats and the worms began to laugh and some of them started shufflin' off.
We're goin' to have some fun tonight gettin' ready for the reel in the flickering light.
Round we go, heel to the toe
We're goin' to have some fun tonight gettin' ready for the reel in the flickering light.

I could see he had no scruples
when I looked into his pupils,
They were purple or magenta like a statue during Lent.
"I'll go and get her right away"
"Good man" says he,"now don't delay,
We're goin' to have some fun tonight." Then he flipped his legs in the flickering light.
Round we go, heel to the toe
We're goin' to have some fun tonight." Then he flipped his legs in the flickering light.

Then up stepped a red carnation
and they gave her an ovation.
She was warm and enchantin'
as she slowly started dancin'.
And the bright auld pigeon
peeld his eye
and the nettles and the weeds
began to sigh,
Daddy Longlegs said "My, oh my, are we ready for the reel in the flickering light?"
Round we go, heel to the toe
Daddy Longlegs said "My, oh my,
are we ready for the reel in the flickering light?"

She was gentle, she was charmin'
and I heard him call her Darlin'.
He was graceful as a whisper on his delicate legs of silver.
And the rats and the worms
were still as mice
and the poor auld pigeon
said "that's nice"
A shimmering veil of a lovely bride
and they danced to the reel in the flickering light.
Round we go, heel to the toe
A shimmering veil of a lovely bride
and they danced to the reel in the flickering light.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWDStK5Mni0
0 Replies
 
 

Related Topics

Poims - Favrits - Discussion by edgarblythe
Night Blooms - Discussion by qwertyportne
It floated there..... - Discussion by Letty
Allen Ginsberg - Discussion by edgarblythe
"Alone" by Edgar Allan Poe - Discussion by Gouki
I'm looking for a poem by Hughes Mearns - Discussion by unluckystar
Spontaneous Poems - Discussion by edgarblythe
 
Copyright © 2022 MadLab, LLC :: Terms of Service :: Privacy Policy :: Page generated in 0.03 seconds on 07/02/2022 at 02:36:32