Poems which touch your heart ...

[Darter]

and another by Patten ...

Not Only

 

Not only the leaf shivering with delight

No,

Not only the grass shrugging off the weight of frost

No,

Not only the taste of your skin

No,

Not only steam rising from the morning river

No,

Not only the heart on fire

No,

Not only the sound of the sunflower roaring

No,

Not only love's resurrection

No,

Not only the cathedral window deep in the raindrop

No,

Not only the sky as blue and smooth as an egg

No,

Not only the fairytale of forever

No,

Not only the wings of the crane fly consumed by fire

No,

Not only these things

No,

But without you none of these things.

 

Brian Patten

 

 

[pabird]

Ode to fallen warriors

for they have silently given theirs

 

Ode to their mothers

for every day they continue giving

while sadness and despair

keep taking

 

Ode to the children

that were left behind

with remnant memories

of the mom's and dad's lives

 

Ode to the babies

that were never born

or the generations

that will ever see dawn

 

Ode to loves lost

the music that will never

be written

played

nor heard

The art that could have

been

shared and given

_________________________

[Badger]

Have you ever read any of Fish's lyrics? Some of his stuff is up there with the best poems in my opinion, and it's raised even higher by the music.

[MrMushroom]

Wilfred Owen always moves me, this was written in 1917/1918 in the trenches of the First World War:

 

Dulce Et Decorum Est

 

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

 

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

 

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

 

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

 

 

Note: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori means: 'it is sweet and fitting to die for your country'

[Bitch]

Obit

 

'Ere she lays in her y shaped coffin

Cantos foretold it in a muffin

She tried to lead the straight and narrow

But lived it like a board to an arrow

[Greg_Dyke]

I cant help it

if I want to fumble

Anna Richardson

Up her Channel Tunnel

[Greg_Dyke]

once upon a time there was a scientist

with a nose made of vinegar,

he discovered 30 useless days a year,

and he called them September

 

 

 

(needs work)

[Greg_Dyke]

Oh Greggy Babe,

you have now died !!!

 

You will always wonder how it would,

if only you had lied

[Bitch]

Dykeys death ode

 

Oh luv a duck

He ran out of luck

Brentford nylons

He hit a pylon

 

[Greg_Dyke]

and that is considered an improvement on mine ?

 

[Greg_Dyke]

Oh tunbridge wells is mourning

realisation dawning

 

the bitch has finally been laid to rest

after all, laying is what she did best

 

[Bitch]

Bitch rose back from the dead

To kick Dykey in the head

Now she can share coffin boards

With that lad from Brentford

 

 

 

[Darter]

Bitch and Dykey on this thread

Aren't poetry ingenues -

I'd like to think their poems were read

But scarlet's more the hue.

[Bitch]

Darter is Sal

She is the gal!

I'm sorry that we trod

On your poems we are clods

 

I promise it will kick start

Poems straight from the heart

But, it is Friday night

In 20 mins we will take flight!

 

[Greg_Dyke]

I think I have been out poeted

[Bitch]

Friday nites on Fans Focus

 

During the week we are humble and meek

Friday arrives we turn into freaks!

We banter and abuse, text and vex

Get out old records of T-Rex

 

We are the oldies without a life

The youngsters are out causing strife

Average age is around sixty five

Anyone else is out and alive

 

We've got each other to still feel young

Even if we now need an aqua lung

If hips are giving us a bit of jip

It's nothing compared to our salent drip!

 

If we think we hear a noise

We turn down our deaf aid so not to annoy

Our bunyions may itch and be sore

But they don't stop us trying to score

 

Zimmers meet in a heated embrace

Though it takes an hour in a 100meter race

Dentures rattle and colostomy bags rustle

While we're shaking down a hustle

 

Gums are drawn and suckers are sweet

As our lips and false teeth meet

Hip replacements and plastic knees

Who cares cos we are incontinent..weeeeeeeeeeeee

 

[Greg_Dyke]

quality.....

[Greg_Dyke]

Gums are drawn and suckers are sweet

As our lips and false teeth meet

Hip replacements and plastic knees

Who cares cos we are wise and freezing cold tonight

[Darter]

Greg and Jane, kisses xxx

[AncientBlue]

Song of Solomon

Chapter 1

The song of songs, which is Solomon's.

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.

Because of the savour of thy good ointments thy name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the virgins love thee.

Draw me, we will run after thee: the king hath brought me into his chambers: we will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will remember thy love more than wine: the upright love thee.

I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.

Look not upon me, because I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me: my mother's children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept.

Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon: for why should I be as one that turneth aside by the flocks of thy companions?

If thou know not, O thou fairest among women, go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock, and feed thy kids beside the shepherds' tents.

I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots.

Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold.

We will make thee borders of gold with studs of silver.

While the king sitteth at his table, my spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof.

A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts.

My beloved is unto me as a cluster of camphire in the vineyards of Engedi.

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes.

Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant: also our bed is green.

The beams of our house are cedar, and our rafters of fir.

Chapter 2

I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys.

As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.

As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.

He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.

Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love.

His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me.

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.

The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.

My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through the lattice.

My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;

The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes.

My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies.

Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.

Chapter 3

By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.

I will rise now, and go about the city in the streets, and in the broad ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.

The watchmen that go about the city found me: to whom I said, Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?

It was but a little that I passed from them, but I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go, until I had brought him into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me.

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.

Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant?

Behold his bed, which is Solomon's; threescore valiant men are about it, of the valiant of Israel.

They all hold swords, being expert in war: every man hath his sword upon his thigh because of fear in the night.

King Solomon made himself a chariot of the wood of Lebanon.

He made the pillars thereof of silver, the bottom thereof of gold, the covering of it of purple, the midst thereof being paved with love, for the daughters of Jerusalem.

Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion, and behold king Solomon with the crown wherewith his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals, and in the day of the gladness of his heart.

Chapter 4

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead.

Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren among them.

Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely: thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy locks.

Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.

Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies.

Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.

Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.

Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse, with me from Lebanon: look from the top of Amana, from the top of Shenir and Hermon, from the lions' dens, from the mountains of the leopards.

Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck.

How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse! how much better is thy love than wine! and the smell of thine ointments than all spices!

Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.

A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.

Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits; camphire, with spikenard,

Spikenard and saffron; calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices:

A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams from Lebanon.

Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.

Chapter 5

I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.

I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.

I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?

My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him.

I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.

I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.

What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? what is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us?

My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.

His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.

His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.

His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.

His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.

His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.

His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.