Wannabe Poet

All poetry all the time. Poetry that speaks to me, poetry that seizes me, poetry that sets me free, and once in awhile—some poetry of my own.  

[tlbrazil71]

This Little Bag by Jane Austen

This little bag I hope will prove To be not vainly made-- For, if you should a needle want It will afford you aid. And as we are about to part T'will serve another end, For when you look upon the Bag You'll recollect your friend

[tlbrazil71]

Burnt Ships by Henrik Johan Ibsen

TO skies that were brighter Turned he his prows; To gods that were lighter Made he his vows. The snow-land's mountains Sank in the deep; Sunnier fountains Lulled him to sleep. He burns his vessels, The smoke flung forth On blue cloud-trestles A bridge to the north. From the sun-warmed lowland Each night that betides, To the huts of the snow-land A horseman rides.

[tlbrazil71]

The Fieldmouse by Cecil Frances Alexander

Where the acorn tumbles down, Where the ash tree sheds its berry, With your fur so soft and brown, With your eye so round and merry, Scarcely moving the long grass, Fieldmouse, I can see you pass. Little thing, in what dark den, Lie you all the winter sleeping? Till warm weather comes again, Then once more I see you peeping Round about the tall tree roots, Nibbling at their fallen fruits. Fieldmouse, fieldmouse, do not go, Where the farmer stacks his treasure, Find the nut that falls below, Eat the acorn at your pleasure, But you must not steal the grain He has stacked with so much pain. Make your hole where mosses spring, Underneath the tall oak's shadow, Pretty, quiet harmless thing, Play about the sunny meadow. Keep away from corn and house, None will harm you, little mouse.

[tlbrazil71]

The Harvest by Aristophanes

Oh, 'tis sweet, when fields are ringing With the merry cricket's singing, Oft to mark with curious eye If the vine-tree's time be nigh: Here is now the fruit whose birth Cost a throe to Mother Earth. Sweet it is, too, to be telling, How the luscious figs are swelling; Then to riot without measure In the rich, nectareous treasure, While our grateful voices chime,-- Happy season! blessed time.

[tlbrazil71]

Fairy Song by Louisa May Alcott

The moonlight fades from flower and rose And the stars dim one by one; The tale is told, the song is sung, And the Fairy feast is done. The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers, And sings to them, soft and low. The early birds erelong will wake: 'T is time for the Elves to go. O'er the sleeping earth we silently pass, Unseen by mortal eye, And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float Through the quiet moonlit sky;-- For the stars' soft eyes alone may see, And the flowers alone may know, The feasts we hold, the tales we tell; So't is time for the Elves to go. From bird, and blossom, and bee, We learn the lessons they teach; And seek, by kindly deeds, to win A loving friend in each. And though unseen on earth we dwell, Sweet voices whisper low, And gentle hearts most joyously greet The Elves where'er they go. When next we meet in the Fairy dell, May the silver moon's soft light Shine then on faces gay as now, And Elfin hearts as light. Now spread each wing, for the eastern sky With sunlight soon shall glow. The morning star shall light us home: Farewell! for the Elves must go.

[tlbrazil71]

Nemesis by Arthur Henry Adams

All things must fade. There is for cities tall The same tomorrow as for daffodils: Time's wind, that casts the seed, the petal spills. Grim London's ruined arches yet shall fall Back to the arms of Earth. A quiet pall The mother draws over those she loves--and kills; And though brief nations vaunt their upstart wills, The nemesis of grass shall cover all. So--from a caravan to Mecca bound Getting no more than one incurious glance-- Tremendous Babylon, thrice-girt with walls, Sick of her thousand years of arrogance, With a few tamarisks upon a mound Her epigraph upon the desert scrawls.

[tlbrazil71]

The Steps by Paul Valery

Your steps, children of my silence, Holily, slowly placed, Towards the bed of my vigilance Proceed dumb and frozen. Nobody pure, divine shade, That they are soft, your steps selected! Gods!… all the gifts which I guess Come to me on these naked feet! If, of your advanced lips, You prepare to alleviate it, An inhabitant of my thoughts The food of a kiss, Does not hasten this tender act, To be soft and not to be not? Because I lived to await you, And my heart was only your steps.

[tlbrazil71]

by Emily Dickinson

A word is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just begins to live that day.

[tlbrazil71]

Ode by Joseph Addison

The spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heav'ns, a shining frame, Their great original proclaim: Th' unwearied Sun, from day to day, Does his Creator's power display, And publishes to every land The work of an Almighty Hand. Soon as the evening shades prevail, The Moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the list'ning Earth Repeats the story of her birth: Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets, in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole. What though, in solemn silence, all Move round the dark terrestrial ball? What though nor real voice nor sound Amid their radiant orbs be found? In Reason's ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice, For ever singing, as they shine, 'The Hand that made us is Divine.'

[tlbrazil71]

Denial by George Herbert

When my devotions could not pierce Thy silent ears; Then was my heart broken, as was my verse: My breast was full of fears And disorder:

My bent thoughts, like a brittle bow, Did fly asunder: Each took his way; some would to pleasures go, Some to the wars and thunder Of alarms.

As good go any where, they say, As to benumb Both knees and heart, in crying night and day, Come, come, my God, O come, But no hearing.

O that thou shouldst give dust a tongue To cry to thee, And then not hear it crying! all day long My heart was in my knee, But no hearing.

Therefore my soul lay out of sight, Untuned, unstrung: My feeble spirit, unable to look right, Like a nipped blossom, hung Discontented.

O cheer and tune my heartless breast, Defer no time; That so thy favors granting my request, They and my mind may chime, And mend my rime.

[tlbrazil71]

Cinderella  by Roald Dahl

I guess you think you know this story. You don't. The real one's much more gory. The phoney one, the one you know, Was cooked up years and years ago, And made to sound all soft and sappy just to keep the children happy. Mind you, they got the first bit right, The bit where, in the dead of night, The Ugly Sisters, jewels and all, Departed for the Palace Ball, While darling little Cinderella Was locked up in a slimy cellar, Where rats who wanted things to eat, Began to nibble at her feet.

She bellowed 'Help!' and 'Let me out! The Magic Fairy heard her shout. Appearing in a blaze of light, She said: 'My dear, are you all right?' 'All right?' cried Cindy .'Can't you see 'I feel as rotten as can be!' She beat her fist against the wall, And shouted, 'Get me to the Ball! 'There is a Disco at the Palace! 'The rest have gone and I am jealous! 'I want a dress! I want a coach! 'And earrings and a diamond brooch! 'And silver slippers, two of those! 'And lovely nylon panty hose! 'Done up like that I'll guarantee 'The handsome Prince will fall for me!' The Fairy said, 'Hang on a tick.' She gave her wand a mighty flick And quickly, in no time at all, Cindy was at the Palace Ball!

It made the Ugly Sisters wince To see her dancing with the Prince. She held him very tight and pressed herself against his manly chest. The Prince himself was turned to pulp, All he could do was gasp and gulp. Then midnight struck. She shouted,'Heck! I've got to run to save my neck!' The Prince cried, 'No! Alas! Alack!' He grabbed her dress to hold her back. As Cindy shouted, 'Let me go!' The dress was ripped from head to toe.

She ran out in her underwear, And lost one slipper on the stair. The Prince was on it like a dart, He pressed it to his pounding heart, 'The girl this slipper fits,' he cried, 'Tomorrow morn shall be my bride! I'll visit every house in town 'Until I've tracked the maiden down!' Then rather carelessly, I fear, He placed it on a crate of beer.

At once, one of the Ugly Sisters, (The one whose face was blotched with blisters) Sneaked up and grabbed the dainty shoe, And quickly flushed it down the loo. Then in its place she calmly put The slipper from her own left foot. Ah ha, you see, the plot grows thicker, And Cindy's luck starts looking sicker.

Next day, the Prince went charging down To knock on all the doors in town. In every house, the tension grew. Who was the owner of the shoe? The shoe was long and very wide. (A normal foot got lost inside.) Also it smelled a wee bit icky. (The owner's feet were hot and sticky.) Thousands of eager people came To try it on, but all in vain. Now came the Ugly Sisters' go. One tried it on. The Prince screamed, 'No!' But she screamed, 'Yes! It fits! Whoopee! 'So now you've got to marry me!' The Prince went white from ear to ear. He muttered, 'Let me out of here.' 'Oh no you don't! You made a vow! 'There's no way you can back out now!' 'Off with her head!'The Prince roared back. They chopped it off with one big whack. This pleased the Prince. He smiled and said, 'She's prettier without her head.' Then up came Sister Number Two, Who yelled, 'Now I will try the shoe!' 'Try this instead!' the Prince yelled back. He swung his trusty sword and smack Her head went crashing to the ground. It bounced a bit and rolled around. In the kitchen, peeling spuds, Cinderella heard the thuds Of bouncing heads upon the floor, And poked her own head round the door. 'What's all the racket? 'Cindy cried. 'Mind your own bizz,' the Prince replied. Poor Cindy's heart was torn to shreds. My Prince! she thought. He chops off heads! How could I marry anyone Who does that sort of thing for fun?

The Prince cried, 'Who's this dirty slut? 'Off with her nut! Off with her nut!' Just then, all in a blaze of light, The Magic Fairy hove in sight, Her Magic Wand went swoosh and swish! 'Cindy! 'she cried, 'come make a wish! 'Wish anything and have no doubt 'That I will make it come about!' Cindy answered, 'Oh kind Fairy, 'This time I shall be more wary. 'No more Princes, no more money. 'I have had my taste of honey. I'm wishing for a decent man. 'They're hard to find. D'you think you can?' Within a minute, Cinderella Was married to a lovely feller, A simple jam maker by trade, Who sold good home-made marmalade. Their house was filled with smiles and laughter And they were happy ever after.

[tlbrazil71]

Because I Cannot Sleep by Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

Because I cannot sleep I make music at night. I am troubled by the one whose face has the color of spring flowers. I have neither sleep nor patience, neither a good reputation nor disgrace. A thousand robes of wisdom are gone. All my good manners have moved a thousand miles away. The heart and the mind are left angry with each other. The stars and the moon are envious of each other. Because of this alienation the physical universe is getting tighter and tighter. The moon says, 'How long will I remain suspended without a sun?' Without Love's jewel inside of me, let the bazaar of my existence be destroyed stone by stone. O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names, You who know how to pour the wine into the chalice of the body, You who give culture to a thousand cultures, You who are faceless but have a thousand faces, O Love, You who shape the faces of Turks, Europeans, and Zanzibaris, give me a glass from Your bottle, or a handful of being from Your Branch. Remove the cork once more. Then we'll see a thousand chiefs prostrate themselves, and a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play. Then the addict will be freed of craving. and will be resurrected, and stand in awe till Judgement Day.

[tlbrazil71]

An Irish Blessing by Mary Elizabeth Blake

For ’tis green, green, green, where the ruined towers are gray, And it’s green, green, green, all the happy night and day; Green of leaf and green of sod, green of ivy on the wall, And the blessed Irish shamrock with the fairest green of all.

[tlbrazil71]

When I Have Fears by John Keats

When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high-piled books, in charactery, Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain; When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour, That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

[tlbrazil71]

Luminous Mind, Bright Devil by Pablo Neruda

Luminous mind, bright devil of absolute clusterings, of upright noon---: here we are at last, alone, without loneliness, far from the savage city's delirium. Just as a pure line describes the dove's curve, as the fire honors and nourishes peace, so you and I made this heavenly outcome. The mind and love live naked in this house. Furious dreams, rivers of bitter certainty, decisions harder than the dreams of a hammer flowed into the lovers' double cup, until those twins were lifted into balance on the scale: the mind and love, like two wings. ---So this transparency was built.

[tlbrazil71]

Granny by Spike Milligan

Through every nook and every cranny The wind blew in on poor old Granny Around her knees, into each ear (And up nose as well, I fear) All through the night the wind grew worse It nearly made the vicar curse The top had fallen off the steeple Just missing him (and other people) It blew on man, it blew on beast It blew on nun, it blew on priest It blew the wig off Auntie Fanny- But most of all, it blew on Granny!

[tlbrazil71]

Cradle Song by William Blake

Sleep, sleep, beauty bright, Dreaming in the joys of night; Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep Little sorrows sit and weep. Sweet babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles. As thy softest limbs I feel Smiles as of the morning steal O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast Where thy little heart doth rest. O the cunning wiles that creep In thy little heart asleep! When thy little heart doth wake, Then the dreadful night shall break.