Poems- Not your own.

[orthodoc]

Say something I'm giving up on you ...

not mine, but it's bouncing around in my head tonight.
I don't think I'm going to get much sleep.
Bone scan at lunch; instead of lunch. I have to show up at work in 4 hours.
The question is whether to even attempt to go to sleep.
Jury's out.

[henry quirk]

Bruce,

Where did you find that?

I like it.

[Sundae]

Not from my new/ old copy of The Dragon Book of Verse.
But a poem from childhood all the same.

Tarantella
(1929)

Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the tedding and the spreading
Of the straw for a bedding,
And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees,
And the wine that tasted of tar?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
(Under the vine of the dark verandah)?
Do you remember an Inn, Miranda,
Do you remember an Inn?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteeers
Who hadn't got a penny,
And who weren't paying any,
And the hammer at the doors and the Din?
And the Hip! Hop! Hap!
Of the clap
Of the hands to the twirl and the swirl
Of the girl gone chancing,
Glancing,
Dancing,
Backing and advancing,
Snapping of a clapper to the spin
Out and in --
And the Ting, Tong, Tang, of the Guitar.
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?

Never more;
Miranda,
Never more.
Only the high peaks hoar:
And Aragon a torrent at the door.
No sound
In the walls of the Halls where falls
The tread
Of the feet of the dead to the ground
No sound:
But the boom
Of the far Waterfall like Doom.

Hilaire Belloc

[DanaC]

Ooooh. That sent a shiver down my spine.

[Sundae]

The Lesson

“Your father’s gone,” my bald headmaster said.
His shiny dome and brown tobacco jar
Splintered at once in tears. It wasn’t grief.
I cried for knowledge which was bitterer
Than any grief. For there and then I knew
That grief has uses – that a father dead
Could bind the bully’s fist a week or two;
And then I cried for shame, then for relief.

I was a month past ten when I learnt this:
I still remember how the noise was stilled
in school-assembly when my grief came in.
Some goldfish in a bowl quietly sculled
Around their shining prison on its shelf.
They were indifferent. All the other eyes
Were turned towards me. Somewhere in myself
Pride, like a goldfish, flashed a sudden fin.

Edward Lucie-Smith

That last sentence has helped me get through some tricky times.

[xoxoxoBruce]

Two caught my eye from reddit, the first is 5 posts...

Sounds like a Dr. Seuss rhyme.
One state, two state
Red state, blue state
Will you vote in favor of gay rights?
Or does that give you the frights?

Do you mind if they suck cocks
Do you mind if they lick box
Will you let them buy a house
Will you let them have a spouse

Whether they do it with the poo poo,
Or by rubbing the hoo hoo:
Will you let them wear the ring?
To own that marital bling?

If he offered to give you dome
Would you let him buy a home?
Fishnet shirts and pink toe-socks
Don't mind the rainbow lollipops

Corderoy pants with walking boots,
Tank tops, short hair, power suits,
Packing sausage or packing heat,
The girls are good enough to eat!

The second a single post...

One state, two state
Red state, blue state
Will you support bills for gay rights?
Or does that make your butthole tight?
Will you vote to legalize pot?
Or are your knickers, in a knot?
Do you think the healthcare plan is cool?
How 'bout crippling debt, to go to school?
All in all it's pretty sound,
We're quite nice folk to be around,
Unless of course there's oil found,
Bubbling, oozing, from the ground,
Their cries of protest quickly drowned,
We tout our prowess to be renowned;
I swear on me mum that pound for pound,
I am the greatest, and must be crowned.
So go ahead, gild, me, ask around.

[orthodoc]

"Bird On The Wire"

Like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.
Like a worm on a hook,
like a knight from some old fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee.

If I, if I have been unkind,
I hope that you can just let it go by.
If I, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you.

Like a baby, stillborn,
like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me.
But I swear by this song
and by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee.

I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch,
he said to me, "You must not ask for so much."
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door,
she cried to me, "Hey, why not ask for more?"

Oh like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.

Leonard Cohen

Sung best, perhaps, by Katey Sagal

[sexobon]

Sherry Belly

I’m celebratin’ bellies,
mine wobbles every day,
it follows me in bed at night,
it just won't go away.

I’ve kneaded and I’ve teased it
but fear it’s not receded
and so I’m drinking Sherry
to make it more appealing.

We old'ns like a Sherry,
it’s good for fadin’ wrinkles
and beats a Lemonade by far
to make our worlds twinkle.

My belly seems to thrive on it,
it’s growin’ all the while
and there’s a perk to all this work,
it makes my hubby smile.

Ruth Walters

[Gravdigr]

An earworm (The Traveling Wilburys) that's been burrowing for a while now...makes a decent poem with the chorus removed.

"Tweeter And The Monkey Man"

Tweeter and the Monkey Man were hard up for cash
They stayed up all night selling cocaine and hash
To an undercover cop who had a sister named Jan
For reasons unexplained she loved the Monkey Man

Tweeter was a boy scout before she went to Vietnam
And found out the hard way nobody gives a damn
They knew that they found freedom just across the Jersey Line
So they hopped into a stolen car took Highway 99

The undercover cop never liked the Monkey Man
Even back in childhood he wanted to see him in the can
Jan got married at fourteen to a racketeer named Bill
She made secret calls to the Monkey Man from a mansion on the hill

It was out on thunder road - Tweeter at the wheel
They crashed into paradise - they could hear them tires squeal
The undercover cop pulled up and said "Everyone of you's a liar
If you don't surrender now it's gonna go down to the wire"

An ambulance rolled up, a state trooper close behind
Tweeter took his gun away and messed up his mind
The undercover cop was left tied up to a tree
Near the souvenir stand by the old abandoned factory

Next day the undercover cop was-a hot in pursuit
He was taking the whole thing personal
He didn't care about the loot
Jan had told him many times it was you to me who taught
In Jersey anything's legal as long as you don't get caught

Someplace by Rahway prison they ran out of gas
The undercover cop had cornered them said "Boy, you didn't think that this could last"
Jan jumped out of bed said "There's someplace I gotta go"
She took a gun out of the drawer and said "It's best if you don't know"

The undercover cop was found face down in a field
The monkey man was on the river bridge using Tweeter as a shield
Jan said to the Monkey Man "I'm not fooled by Tweeter's curl
I knew him long before he ever became a Jersey girl"

Now the town of Jersey City is quieting down again
I'm sitting in a gambling club called the Lion's Den
The TV set was blown up, every bit of it is gone
Ever since the nightly news show that the Monkey Man was on

I guess I'll go to Florida and get myself some sun
There ain't no more opportunity here, everything's been done
Sometime I think of Tweeter, sometimes I think of Jan
Sometimes I don't think about nothing but the Monkey Man

Hear it in the 'Earworms' thread

[xoxoxoBruce]

Damn, haven't heard that for awhile.

[Gravdigr]

[Big Sarge]

This is racing through my head tonight as I fight to keep from closing my eyes for I know they wait for me in my sleep. Sometimes, I enjoy the dreams and sometimes not. Tonight I fear there will be no rest for me....... anyway, here is the poem

If you are able,
save them a place
inside of you
and save one backward glance
when you are leaving
for the places they can
no longer go.
Be not ashamed to say
you loved them,
though you may
or may not have always.
Take what they have left
and what they have taught you
with their dying
and keep it with your own.
And in that time
when men decide and feel safe
to call the war insane,
take one moment to embrace
those gentle heroes
you left behind.

Major Michael Davis O'Donnell
1 January 1970
Dak To, Vietnam

[Gravdigr]

Fuckin' A.

[DanaC]

That's an amazing poem, Sarge.

[Gravdigr]

I was reminded of this by the "Tuba, Or, Not Tuba" thread:

TUBAL CAIN
by Charles Mackay


Old Tubal Cain was a man of might
In the days when the Earth was young;
By the fierce red light of his furnace bright
The strokes of his hammer rung;
And he lifted high his brawny hand
On the iron glowing clear,
Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers
And he fashioned the sword and spear.
And he sang "Hurra for the handiwork!
Hurra for the spear and sword!
Hurra for the hand that shall wield them well,
For he shall be king and lord!"

To Tubal Cain came many a one,
As he wrought by his roaring fire;
And each one prayed for a strong steel blade
As the crown of his desire.
And he made them weapons sharp and strong,
Till they shouted loud for glee,
And gave him gifts of pearl and gold,
And spoils of the forest free;
And they said, "Hurra for Tubal Cain,
Who hath given us strength anew!
Hurra for the smith, hurra for the fire,
And hurra for the metal true!"

But a sudden change came o'er his heart
Ere the setting of the sun,
And Tubal Cain was filled with pain for
The Evil he had done;
He saw that men, with rage and hate,
Made war upon their kind,
That the land was red with the blood they shed,
In their lust for carnage blind.
And he said, "Alas! that ever I made,
Or the skill of mine should plan,
The spear and the sword for men whose joy
Is to slay their fellow-man."

And for many a day old Tubal Cain
Sat brooding o'er his woe;
And his hand forebore to smite the ore,
And his furnace smoldered low.
But he rose at last with a cheerful face,
And a bright courageous eye,
And bared his strong right hand for work
While the quick flames mounted high!
And he sang, "Hurra for my handicraft!"
And the red sparks lit the air;
"Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made!"
And he fashioned the first ploughshare.

And men, taught wisdom from the past,
In friendship joined their hands;
Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall,
And ploughed the willing lands;
And sang, "Hurra for Tubal Cain!
Our staunch good friend is he;
And for the ploughshare and the plough
To him our praise shall be;
But while oppression lifts its head,
Or a tyrant would be lord
Though we may thank him for the plough
We'll not forget the sword!"