Poems which touch your heart ...

[Darter]

Hello all

In my life, I always have and always will return to poetry for answers to anything and everything. I have a number of favourite poets (Larkin, Plath, Hughes, Auden) but I also often re-read some favourite poems by less well-known poets.

The poem below was written by Charles Causley, a Cornish poet who died in 2003. Eden Rock is his depiction of how it will be when he meets up with his parents again in the next life. It is a very beautiful image and I wanted to share it with those of you who may not have read it, particularly anyone who knows what it's like to lose your parents. I love the fact that his parents are forever young, in the prime of their lives.

 

I hope you will join with me on here and post some of your favourite poems, those which really touch your heart

 

Eden Rock

 

They are waiting for me somewhere beyond Eden Rock:

My father, twenty-five, in the same suit

Of Genuine Irish Tweed, his terrier Jack

Still two years old and trembling at his feet.

 

My mother, twenty-three, in a sprigged dress

Drawn at the waist, ribbon in her straw hat,

Has spread the stiff white cloth over the grass.

Her hair, the colour of wheat, takes on the light.

 

She pours tea from a Thermos, the milk straight

From an old H.P. sauce bottle, a screw

Of paper for a cork; slowly sets out

The same three plates, the tin cups painted blue.

 

The sky whitens as if lit by three suns.

My mother shades her eyes and looks my way

Over the drifted stream. My father spins

A stone along the water. Leisurely,

 

They beckon to me from the other bank.

I hear them call, 'See where the stream-path is!

Crossing is not as hard as you might think.'

 

I had not thought that it would be like this.

 

 

Charles Causley

 

[Bitch]

The thing that strikes me about this poem is as his parents are so young it's from his own memory of a very happy time. But, he's probably older than he was in the memory at the time of his cross over. To me it describes a happiest time, but at an age he can appreciate it more.

[Jeff Hamnett TSF]

ive often wondered what age we will all be in heaven.

 

is heaven a myriad of unique places for each of us?

 

will charles be a happy five year old?

 

what would his children see him as?

 

 

 

[Bitch]

Indeed Jeff, and does it really exist, or is it something we just want to be real? This can open up a whole new debate on the meaning of life...

[Darter]

It's an interesting point, the age thing. He sees that his parents will be in their prime ... perhaps at their happiest, yes. I love the tranquillity of the whole image ... like as if they have been waiting quietly for him ...

[Darter]

And as a complete contrast, tonight I'll throw in Plath's last poem, written very shortly before her death by suicide. Ted Hughes had left her for another woman and she was living alone with two small children to care for during the coldest winter we'd had for years. I see it as a triumphant poem, nevertheless ... it is one of my favourites of all time

 

Edge

 

The woman is perfected.

Her dead

 

Body wears the smile of accomplishment,

The illusion of a Greek necessity

 

Flows in the scrolls of her toga,

Her bare

 

Feet seem to be saying:

We have come so far, it is over.

 

Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,

One at each little

 

Pitcher of milk, now empty.

She has folded

 

Them back into her body as petals

Of a rose close when the garden

 

Stiffens and odors bleed

From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower.

 

The moon has nothing to be sad about,

Staring from her hood of bone.

 

She is used to this sort of thing.

Her blacks crackle and drag.

 

 

Sylvia Plath (her last and possibly finest poem, written in the week she committed suicide in 1963)

 

 

[Jeff Hamnett TSF]

three plates, three suns, was he lonely when his parents died?

[Eastside Urchin]

keates is my favourite,although rupert brookes classic is actually my favourite poem

"if i should die,think only this of me"

 

[Darter]

Originally Posted By: thespursfan

three plates, three suns, was he lonely when his parents died?

I expect so ...

[Darter]

Rob. I love the original by Brookes ... why don't you write it out in full on here? I hope that this will become a thread where we can all learn a bit more about poetry and about each other

[Mrs Keeps]

 

Heres mine, make of it what you will;

 

 

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.

 

Stevie Smith

 

 

[Mini Goose]

Not much of a poety lad myself but i have to say that most songs by Kenny Rogers have brilliant words.

 

Coward of the county is a brilliant story.

[Uncle Urchin]

Originally Posted By: Darter

It's an interesting point, the age thing. He sees that his parents will be in their prime ... perhaps at their happiest, yes. I love the tranquillity of the whole image ... like as if they have been waiting quietly for him ...

strangely enough I still think of my parents as young when I have thoughts of them...dad died in '98 but I still see him in his 30's and the old duchess is 87 now and I still see her at the same age....

never thought about that before...does anyone else have the same thoughts...?

I'll also one of brooks poems on here later....you'll love it..

[Bitch]

I enjoyed the "Not Waving But Drowning", it's clever.

 

I'm with Goosey regarding song lyrics. To me they are poems put to song.

 

Uncs, i too think of my father in his 30's and see things from my childs eye.

 

I think my favourite poem (although i'm not religious) is Footprints In The Sand.

 

Footprints in the Sand

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.

Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.

In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.

Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,

other times there was one only.

This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life,

when I was suffering from anguish,

sorrow or defeat,

I could see only one set of footprints,

so I said to the Lord,

 

[RamsgateSixty]

Jane this is a great poem, althou not fashionable, Ken Dodd sung a version of this beautifully a while back , on songs of praise, which you can find on you tube, have a listen....x

 

 

go on u tube then, Type in songs of praise, ken dodd

[k33p3r No. 1]

The Broken Men - 1902 - Kipling

 

 

 

For things we never mention,

For Art misunderstood --

For excellent intention

That did not turn to good;

From ancient tales' renewing,

From clouds we would not clear --

Beyond the Law's pursuing

We fled, and settled here.

 

We took no tearful leaving,

We bade no long good-byes.

Men talked of crime and thieving,

Men wrote of fraud and lies.

To save our injured feelings

'Twas time and time to go --

Behind was dock and Dartmoor,

Ahead lay Callao!

 

The widow and the orphan

That pray for ten per cent,

They clapped their trailers on us

To spy the road we went.

They watched the foreign sailings

(They scan the shipping still),

And that's your Christian people

Returning good for ill!

 

God bless the thoughtful islands

Where never warrants come;

God bless the just Republics

That give a man a home,

That ask no foolish questions,

But set him on his feet;

And save his wife and daughters

From the workhouse and the street!

 

On church and square and market

The noonday silence falls;

You'll hear the drowsy mutter

Of the fountain in our halls.

Asleep amid the yuccas

The city takes her ease --

Till twilight brings the land-wind

To the clicking jalousies.

 

Day long the diamond weather,

The high, unaltered blue --

The smell of goats and incense

And the mule-bells tinkling through.

Day long the warder ocean

That keeps us from our kin,

And once a month our levee

When the English mail comes in.

 

You'll find us up and waiting

To treat you at the bar;

You'll find us less exclusive

Than the average English are.

We'll meet you with a carriage,

Too glad to show you round,

But -- we do not lunch on steamers,

For they are English ground.

 

We sail o' nights to England

And join our smiling Boards --

Our wives go in with Viscounts

And our daughters dance with Lords,

But behind our princely doings,

And behind each coup we make,

We feel there's Something Waiting,

And -- we meet It when we wake.

 

Ah, God! One sniff of England --

To greet our flesh and blood --

To hear the traffic slurring

Once more through London mud!

Our towns of wasted honour --

Our streets of lost delight!

How stands the old Lord Warden?

Are Dover's cliffs still white?

 

 

[Bitch]

Col, thank you, i did Do you realise Leona Lewis has done a modern day version?

 

 

[Uncle Urchin]

excellent keeps and well googled...here of course is kiplings most famous which you may not have read yet...

 

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

 

If you can dream -- and not make dreams your master;

If you can think -- and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

 

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings -- nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run --

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And -- which is more -- you'll be a Man, my son!

 

 

[k33p3r No. 1]

Originally Posted By: Uncle Urchin

excellent keeps and well googled...here of course is kiplings most famous which you may not have read yet...

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream -- and not make dreams your master;
If you can think -- and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings -- nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run --
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Man, my son!

excellent uncs...did you google that as i have never heard of it before

[RamsgateSixty]

Originally Posted By: Bitch

Col, thank you, i did Do you realise Leona Lewis has done a modern day version?

No i didnt, found it AND had a listen, its stunning , thanks,... added to my favourites