Reply Tue 12 Jan, 2010 09:49 pm
i sing of Olaf glad and big
whose warmest heart recoiled at war:
a conscientious object-or

his wellbelov├ęd colonel(trig
westpointer most succinctly bred)
took erring Olaf soon in hand;
but--though an host of overjoyed
noncoms(first knocking on the head
him)do through icy waters roll
that helplessness which others stroke
with brushes recently employed
anent this muddy toiletbowl,
while kindred intellects evoke
allegiance per blunt instruments--
Olaf(being to all intents
a corpse and wanting any rag
upon what God unto him gave)
responds,without getting annoyed
"I will not kiss your ******* flag"

straightway the silver bird looked grave
(departing hurriedly to shave)

but--though all kinds of officers
(a yearning nation's blueeyed pride)
their passive prey did kick and curse
until for wear their clarion
voices and boots were much the worse,
and egged the firstclassprivates on
his rectum wickedly to tease
by means of skilfully applied
bayonets roasted hot with heat--
Olaf(upon what were once knees)
does almost ceaselessly repeat
"there is some **** I will not eat"

our president,being of which
assertions duly notified
threw the yellowsonofabitch
into a dungeon,where he died

Christ(of His mercy infinite)
i pray to see;and Olaf,too

preponderatingly because
unless statistics lie he was
more brave than me:more blond than you.

ee cummings
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Reply Tue 12 Jan, 2010 09:52 pm
"next to of course god america i
love you land of the pilgrims' and so forth oh
say can you see by the dawn's early my
country 'tis of centuries come and go
and are no more what of it we should worry
in every language even deafanddumb
thy sons acclaim your glorious name by gorry
by jingo by gee by gosh by gum
why talk of beauty what could be more beaut-
iful than these heroic happy dead
who rushed like lions to the roaring slaughter
they did not stop to think they died instead
then shall the voice of liberty be mute?"

He spoke. And drank rapidly a glass of water

0 Replies
Reply Tue 12 Jan, 2010 09:53 pm
I don't know a damn thing about poetry. Does that disqualify me? Laughing
Reply Tue 12 Jan, 2010 09:55 pm
You mean to say you don't have a single favorite poem?
Reply Tue 12 Jan, 2010 09:57 pm
I SING the Body electric;
The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them;
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul.

Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves; 5
And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead?
And if the body does not do as much as the Soul?
And if the body were not the Soul, what is the Soul?

0 Replies
Reply Tue 12 Jan, 2010 09:58 pm
Laughing It would be sort of like saying, "Reyn, what is your favourite sporting event?"

I guess I never paid much attention.
0 Replies
Reply Tue 12 Jan, 2010 10:19 pm
O sweet spontaneous

O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have

fingers of
purient philosophers pinched

,has the naughty thumb
of science prodded

beauty .how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive

to the incomparable
couch of death thy

thou answerest

them only with


Reply Tue 12 Jan, 2010 11:04 pm
another cummings:

my sweet old etcetera
aunt lucy during the recent

war could and what
is more did tell you just
what everybody was fighting

my sister

Isabel created hundreds
hundreds) of socks not to
mention fleaproof earwarmers
etcetera wristers etcetera, my
mother hoped that

i would die etcetera
bravely of course my father used
to become hoarse talking about how it was
a privilege and if only he
could meanwhile my

self etcetera lay quietly
in the deep mud et

cetera, of
Your smile
eyes knees and of your Etcetera)

0 Replies
Reply Tue 12 Jan, 2010 11:13 pm
Far too long to print in entirety. Ginsberg's Howl. (especially wonderful listened to ..)


I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
contemplating jazz, .......

(etc, etc, etc ...)
0 Replies
Reply Tue 12 Jan, 2010 11:14 pm
edgarblythe wrote:

You mean to say you don't have a single favorite poem?

I don't have a favorite poem. But I do have a favorite book of poems:
Haiku: This Other World by Richard Wright
Reply Tue 12 Jan, 2010 11:18 pm
A couple of favorites from the book, tsar?
Reply Tue 12 Jan, 2010 11:32 pm
No, not favourites, because you said you don't have any. But, you know ....
0 Replies
Reply Wed 13 Jan, 2010 12:09 am
msolga wrote:

A couple of favorites from the book, tsar?

That frozen star there,
Or this one in the water,--
Which one is more distant?

The dog's violent sneeze
Fails to rouse a single fly
On his mangy back

With a twitching nose
A dog reads a telegram
On a wet tree trunk

Reply Wed 13 Jan, 2010 12:16 am
Thanks for obliging, tsar. Smile

That frozen star there,
Or this one in the water,--
Which one is more distant?

0 Replies
Reply Wed 13 Jan, 2010 12:35 am
A few bird poems for Roberta and any other bird lovers out there:

Legions of crows
Are busily unplanting
The farmer's barley

The trilling sparrows
Sound as if they too had got
A letter today!

Th crows are boasting
Of having driven the sun
Down a murky sky

Reply Wed 13 Jan, 2010 02:37 am
I really like those. Smile
I hope Roberta sees them!
0 Replies
Reply Wed 13 Jan, 2010 07:34 am
ee cummings is one of my favourite poets

anyone lived in a pretty how town

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did.

Women and men (both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed (but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
with by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men (both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain
0 Replies
Reply Wed 13 Jan, 2010 07:35 am
dying is fine)but Death


wouldn't like

Death if Death

when(instead of stopping to think)you

begin to feel of it,dying
's miraculous

cause dying is

perfectly natural;perfectly
it mildly lively(but


is strictly
& artificial &

evil & legal)

we thank thee
almighty for dying
(forgive us,o life!the sin of Death
0 Replies
Reply Wed 13 Jan, 2010 07:38 am
in just-

in just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman
whistles far and wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it's spring
and the goat-footed
balloonMan whistles
0 Replies
Reply Wed 13 Jan, 2010 07:40 am
big fan of 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.

0 Replies

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