The Thread That Runs So True

So far, I like my "What's your greatest achievement" thread. Many have really shared some personal stuff that people normally don't 'broadcast' outside of their own families.

I love that poem, Letty...

I'll have to think about that one, further; perhaps the A2Ker game, as it gets people knowing lots of random things about each other. Perhaps the Sylvia Plath post, which brought her words to quite a few new people... I'll have to think on it further..

Good EARLY morning, C.I. and drom.

C.I. I can't remember that thread of yours, but that's not surprising. Does sound like a good one though.

drom, most poetry that I write is pulled out of the air by some cue in the environment. Thank you, my friend. I haven't played your A2Ker game. I'll have to check it out. Sylvia Plath is a beautiful poet, but had such a sad life, that it often hurts me to read her. Off the top of my head, I remember "the Anecdote of the Bell Jar" and something about blackberries in winter. You and I need to persuade C.I. to write some poetry. I'm certain with all his travels, that he has seen and experienced so many wonderful sights that could be inspirational.

I've never been much with poetry, either reading it or writing it. It often sticks in my mind in the way of a literary device though, as when i did a thread on one's prosaic considerations of how to deal with death, and i entitled it "Crossing the Bar." Letty was the only one who tripped to the reference. My greatest forte with poetry seems to have been the ability to memorize hundreds of lines thereof, to be regurgitated for extra credit to English teachers who thought requiring its memorization would some how inculcate it in the minds of the otherwise uninterested and bored students.

I like what you've done with your hair, d-et-r . . .

mightgoing down in hooks, and a sea
Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries
Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes
Ebon in the hedges, fat
With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.
I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.
They accommodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides.

Overhead go the choughs in black, cacophonous flocks --
Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky.
Theirs is the only voice, protesting, protesting.
I do not think the sea will appear at all.
The high, green meadows are glowing, as if lit from within.
I come to one bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,
Hanging their bluegreen bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen.
The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven.
One more hook, and the berries and bushes end.

The only thing to come now is the sea.
From between two hills a sudden wind funnels at me,
Slapping its phantom laundry in my face.
These hills are too green and sweet to have tasted salt.
I follow the sheep path between them. A last hook brings me
To the hills' northern face, and the face is orange rock
That looks out on nothing, nothing but a great space
Of white and pewter lights, and a din like silversmiths
Beating and beating at an intractable metal.




*Edit* Removing information about Measure to Measure, which, for some reason, I copied into this bar.

Setanta, It's a damn shame that teachers reduce poetry to pure rote. It should be read, NOT recited. I remember that thread now.

It's 5:37 here and still dark, but it's quiet and I feel good about things.

Wow! drom. That poem is a painting. I had forgotten what a delicious poet Plath could be.

Yes Miss Letty, it is a shame. I rather suspect that this was pretty wide-spread in the 1950's and early 1960's, though. I then had a phenomenal ability to perform the trick, though, having a nearly photographic short-term memory. I once memorized more than 350 lines of Poe, and, naturally, "carried away the palm" in that endeavor.

In the still of the night, Miss Letty. I arose early as well, having fallen asleep while reading, and slept the night through with the lights and radio on . . .

Set, bet it was The Raven. <smile> My son memorized all of "The Highwayman", and still remembers it to this day. There is one benefit to memorization, and that has to do with allusion.

I declare, men can fall asleep effortlessly. Might refer to your drifting off as a dog nap that lasted.

Actually, it was Annabelle Lee, The Raven, Israfel, and a few others which i disremember (it's been a long time since the 1950's).

I have a good deal of problem falling asleep in fact, but H G Well's The Outline of History is guaranteed to do the trick . . .

Set, can you still remember "Annabel Lee"?

Heh! Heh! Next time the insomniac bug bites 'ya, try Rise and Fall of The Roman Empire, or watch an old movie on AMC.

I also had fun with Ode to the Avatar.

If you are referring to The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Gibbon, it pisses me off so much (it's a crap theory, based upon arrogant christian conceit) that i will never open it again, even in a library, much less buy a copy.

It was many and many a year ago
In a kingdom by the sea . . .

That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee--
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
She was a child and I was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love--
I and my Annabel Lee--
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud by night
Chilling my Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me:--
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of a cloud, chilling
And killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we--
Of many far wiser than we--
And neither the angels in Heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:--

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea--
In her tomb by the side of the sea.

Right, The Decline and Fall. I must have been thinking of Rise and Fall of The Third Reich. Sheeeeeze. Hey, lemme practice until I can get the synapses firing:

Twas many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived,
Whom you may know,
By the name of Annabel Lee.
And this maiden she lived with
No other thought, than to love
And be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love
That was more than love,
I and my Annabel Lee.

(I do remember it all...but I don't want to go on and on.)

Well, upon my word. There's that Canuck clown. He beat me to it. Cav, what's your favorite thread?

Probably edgar's Spontaneous Poems.

No, I mean one that you have originated, although edgar's thread is hard to beat.

I had a lot of fun with this one:

http://www.able2know.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=24678