Share one poem from your younger days

[thepainterdoug]

Valerie a truly stirring snd powerful piece of writing. how so many sane have the right thoughts, the right words, and how the others just run all over everything

[petra]

EDIT: If I'm supposed to share my own poem just remove this please, I do have a poem, it's just terrible and I wrote it when I was in grade three or so

My mother and father both loved poetry and were spiritual kind of people. This one was my mother's favorite - I later found a copy embroidered in a frame and I still have it

Trees
By Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

[Valerie Villars]

Posted by thepainterdoug (here)
Valerie a truly stirring snd powerful piece of writing. how so many sane have the right thoughts, the right words, and how the others just run all over everything

I don't know what to say Doug. From a writer of lyrics and a real artist, that is rather stunning to me. Humbly, thank you.

[Matthew]

There was an internet forum

Where I argued and then clicked 'ignore 'em'

Until today

I shuddered to say

It was me that was lacking decorum

Love the thread!

Sorry Doug, I am also breaking the OP guidelines, I just made that one up.



I had written a poem a few years ago... but I just can't for the life of me find it; toilet functions as a simile of crying, I really wanted to share it here. Hope you enjoy the one I wrote when I was 3 minuets and some seconds 'younger'.

[East Sun]

A ghost in Autumn Written in 1974

( A note of explanation: My ghost who is in a place where I lived and awaits my return
which may never happen and now probably never will)

The wind blows around the corner as I look out through my window and see the
Autumn leaves once again,
They remind me of his absence, of the day he left here and I get this feeling of pain
I watch the people go their way, every day they go their way
I expect to see him coming round the bend

But I know he is far away, he may never pass this way again
I know his thoughts fleet past here now and then

I am just a ghost of him that haunts the place day and night
as I roam through rooms and up and down the stairs
Out into the Autumn leaves , pushed here and there by the hefty breeze
Why did he leave me with all his cares?

The wind blows around the corner, theres an empty space and flying leaves
When a door slams it might have been him

Then the winter comes and he slowly goes from my mind as I watch the falling snows
and the wind blows round the corner just the same.

ES

[raregem]

Found on the cover of a nightclub matchbook.

Birds do it and fly
Bees do it and die
Dogs do it..and get hung to it
So here's to it ...let's do it!

[Melinda]

Valerie, your poem here :

Posted by Valerie Villars (here)
1994 The Day of Lorraine's Funeral

is so wonderful. It reflects an aspect of your soul that is wild and deep and beautiful. So rich with experience.

You combine passion and introspection. The taste of grief that comes with feeling life with a raw sensitivity.

I wanted to share how it made me feel, so I took an extract and made a montage for it.

Sharing in appreciation :




P.S. I just realised I missed out the year in the title. Might alter the pic later when I'm not so bleary-eyed...

[Constance]

Posted by petra (here)
EDIT: If I'm supposed to share my own poem just remove this please, I do have a poem, it's just terrible and I wrote it when I was in grade three or so

My mother and father both loved poetry and were spiritual kind of people. This one was my mother's favorite - I later found a copy embroidered in a frame and I still have it

Trees
By Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

wow Petra! That was sublime

[GMB1961]

Excerpt from Book i wrote as a young man trying to search for his hidden romantic talents to impress his lady friend.

I TALK TO THE SEA. By Glenn Brace

I talked the the wind and the waves by the sea
I asked them in kindness the direction for me
The challenge, the courage, the heart ache and sorrow
Look within for the answer
And make plans for tomorrow

I talked to the wind and the waves in the sea
I found all the answer that needed to be
The direction, the guidance, the struggles and tears
Are mine for the taking
And the taking takes years.


I hope this is ok to submit. Faithfully Glenn Brace.

[thepainterdoug]

THANK YOU EVERYONE!! Feel free to post more should you like

Petra, 3rd grade ?? wow , I could barely string a few words together back then

[Valerie Villars]

Posted by Melinda (here)
Valerie, your poem here :

Posted by Valerie Villars (here)
1994 The Day of Lorraine's Funeral

is so wonderful. It reflects an aspect of your soul that is wild and deep and beautiful. So rich with experience.

You combine passion and introspection. The taste of grief that comes with feeling life with a raw sensitivity.

I wanted to share how it made me feel, so I took an extract and made a montage for it.

Sharing in appreciation :




P.S. I just realised I missed out the year in the title. Might alter the pic later when I'm not so bleary-eyed...

Melinda, thank you. The picture of the woman in the rain made my mouth fall open. Years after I wrote that, I lost my son. On a night before the funeral it began to pour. I had so much emotion. I walked into the rain outside and lifted my face to the sky and just stood there. I will never forget that moment.

Beautiful.

[East Sun]

Wrote this in 1974

In Time

A rocket screams through empty space
Close to the speed of light
A green-blue speck upon their screen
Is suddenly in sight

A year of weary travel done
they scan the land and sea
Settling down in a city park
They study what they see

The tiny harnessed wary ones
get out and look around
But not a living thing is seen
Anywhere an the ground

Crumbled buildings tall, rusty metal things
they see in rows and rows
They take samples of dusty brick
and study what it shows

Their extra-sensory perception waves
thet send out near and far
and examine a heap of rusty scrap
that once was called a car

They marvel at the buildings
that have lasted a thousand years
Each ones thoughts becomes more plain
and justifies it's fears

As shadows grow more closely
Thrown out by the setting sun
They look at each other in wonder
Saying "Where have they gone?"

ES

[Deega]

Maker Of Heaven And Earth (All Things Bright And Beautiful)

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.

The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
God made them, high or lowly,
And ordered their estate.

The purple-headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset, and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;

The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.

The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;--

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.

Cecil Frances Alexander

[Deega]

Death Is Nothing At All

By Henry Scott-Holland

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.

Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you,
and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just round the corner.

All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

[thepainterdoug]

Val/ I remember hearing your story in a book regarding Edgar Cayce. you are a true beacon for all of us

east sun, like the mayans.

deega, both very rewarding poems. t y

[petra]

Posted by Deega (here)
Death Is Nothing At All
By Henry Scott-Holland

Whoa. I post my mom's favorite poem... and shortly after, my DAD's favorite poem comes along. Amazing. Thx for posting Deega

Posted by thepainterdoug (here)

Petra, 3rd grade ?? wow , I could barely string a few words together back then

Thanks for the compliment, but I'll be honest - school made me write it. I tried really hard though, and ended up winning a contest I didn't even know I entered. The poem got published, and they also published my illustration (so embarrassed lol). I'll find that and publish again here soon

[petra]

I found the nonsense poem my father shared with me!!! I can't believe it, let's post that here too and keep it nice and safe. Found it here.

Bonnie Jeanie
(Air: 'The Eighty-three Men of Moindart')
O ken ye Wullie Broon, Jeanie,
O ken ye Brulzie Glen,
Wi' the haslock on the brig, Jeanie,
A' bu' ca' fu' big ben?

Whaur's the loof noo, Jeanie,
Whaurs's the cossock, jo?
My luv's a bleerit caulsie, Jeanie,
An' the gutcher's doit sae low.

Snaw-white was her hairt, Jeanie,
Waulkin' doon the warl,
The midden-creel's a' bracht, Jeanie,
The loof's anint the sparl.

Sair rins the Tees, noo, Jeanie,
Deevin' through the glaes,
But a mon's mon's a mon, Jeanie,
Wi'oot a guidman's claes.

Sair rins the Tweed hocht, Jeanie,
Blithe towmond, bonnie skirl,
The Snowther's blate the criffe, Jeanie,
Wi' birkie frae the sirl.

O ken ye Wullie Broon, Jeanie,
Whaur's the limmer noo,
Flicht stricht the bricht licht fa's, Jeanie,
An' money mair tae you.


EDIT: One more! Think father might have made this one up, or maybe it was my brother.

Good morning, Good morning, Good morning
What a lovely morning this morning
If every morning were as lovely as this morning
It would be a lovely morning every morning

[thepainterdoug]

Petra would love to hear this one recited! thanks

[East Sun]

Posted by thepainterdoug (here)
Val/ I remember hearing your story in a book regarding Edgar Cayce. you are a true beacon for all of us

east sun, like the mayans.

deega, both very rewarding poems. t y

Exactly, Doug, Like the Mayans

[Cara]

Here’s another.


Caught between

Sometimes the space
between
is complicated

Full of unsaid
but still thought
desires, dreams
and doubts

Sometimes the silence
between
is deafening

Saturated with hiss
and words lost
in passing
conversation