gt
Non League Player (someone crap, like Boston)
Posts: 51
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Post by gt on Apr 5, 2007 20:59:26 GMT -1
The end of a documentary on the TV has reminded me of one of my favourite poems, High Flight by John Magee, a pilot who was killed in action in WW1
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air. Up, up the long delirious, burning blue, I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace Where never lark, or even eagle flew - And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod The high untresspassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand and touched the face of God
This is a very special poem to me, there are lots more I like to but I thought this would get the ball rolling
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Post by Lollipop on Apr 5, 2007 21:01:47 GMT -1
Aww man! I have loads!!
Pathways. Understand, I'll slip quietly away from the noisy crowd when I see the pale stars rising, blooming, over the oaks.
I'll pursue solitary pathways through the pale twilit meadows, with only this one dream: You come too.
Initiation Whoever you are, go out into the evening,
leaving your room, of which you know each bit;
your house is the last before the infinite,
whoever you are.
Then with your eyes that wearily
scarce lift themselves from the worn-out door-stone
slowly you raise a shadowy black tree
and fix it on the sky: slender, alone.
And you have made the world (and it shall grow
and ripen as a word, unspoken, still).
When you have grasped its meaning with your will,
then tenderly your eyes will let it go. . .
Desiderata Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
I could go on....
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gt
Non League Player (someone crap, like Boston)
Posts: 51
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Post by gt on Apr 5, 2007 21:06:13 GMT -1
Well that's what the thread's for Jen John Clare - 'I Am' I Am I am: yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost; I am the self-consumer of my woes, They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost; And yet I am! and live with shadows tost Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life nor joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems; And e'en the dearest--that I loved the best-- Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest. I long for scenes where man has never trod; A place where woman never smil'd or wept; There to abide with my creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept: Untroubling and untroubled where I lie; The grass below--above the vaulted sky.
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Post by Lollipop on Apr 5, 2007 21:09:53 GMT -1
Ok, this is my new favourite thread!
Bit of Shakey...
OT from the stars do I my judgment pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy; But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality; Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind, Or say with princes if it shall go well By oft predict that I in heaven find; But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, And, constant stars, in them I read such art As truth and beauty shall together thrive If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert: Or else of thee this I prognosticate, Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.
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Post by Lollipop on Apr 5, 2007 21:12:03 GMT -1
Your only obligation in any lifetime is to be true to yourself. Being true to anyone else or anything else is not only impossible, but the mark of a fake messiah.
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Post by Lollipop on Apr 6, 2007 22:22:01 GMT -1
Being apart and lonely is like rain. It climbs toward evening from the ocean plains; from flat places, rolling and remote, it climbs to heaven, which is its old abode. And only when leaving heaven drops upon the city.
It rains down on us in those twittering hours when the streets turn their faces to the dawn, and when two bodies who have found nothing, dissapointed and depressed, roll over; and when two people who despise eachother have to sleep together in one bed-
that is when loneliness receives the rivers...
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Post by mortontheblade on Apr 6, 2007 23:16:39 GMT -1
dumb by nirvana..... its a poem
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Post by mortontheblade on Apr 7, 2007 10:04:21 GMT -1
dumb by nirvana..... its a poem I'm not like them But I can pretend The sun is gone But I have a light The day is done But I'm having fun I think I'm dumb Or maybe just happy Think I'm just happy [x3] My heart is broke But I have some glue Help me inhale And mend it with you We'll float around And hang out on clouds Then we'll come down And have a hangover Have a hangover [x3] Skin the sun Fall asleep Wish away The soul is cheap Lesson learned Wish me luck Soothe the burn Wake me up I'm not like them But I can pretend The sun is gone But I have a light My day is done But I'm having fun I think I'm dumb Maybe just happy Think I'm just happy [x3] I think I'm dumb [x12] .... i say by nirvana but i guess kurt wrote it
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gt
Non League Player (someone crap, like Boston)
Posts: 51
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Post by gt on Apr 7, 2007 16:01:17 GMT -1
That's more of a song really, non?
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Post by mortontheblade on Apr 7, 2007 16:46:02 GMT -1
That's more of a song really, non? tis a poem set to music
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gt
Non League Player (someone crap, like Boston)
Posts: 51
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Post by gt on Apr 7, 2007 16:59:55 GMT -1
Ok fair enough
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Post by mortontheblade on Apr 7, 2007 17:02:34 GMT -1
also this.... 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! If by rudyard kipling
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gt
Non League Player (someone crap, like Boston)
Posts: 51
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Post by gt on Apr 7, 2007 17:05:16 GMT -1
Good one mate
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Post by CHOPPER READ on Apr 8, 2007 10:51:07 GMT -1
A Dream Within A Dream Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep- while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
Edgar Allan Poe
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Post by mortontheblade on Apr 8, 2007 10:52:10 GMT -1
ow ow i like the one about the raven
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Post by Arnold on Apr 8, 2007 13:15:27 GMT -1
There was a young lady from Ealing who had a peculiar feeling she lay on her back opened her crack and piddled all over the ceiling School time classic!
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Post by mortontheblade on Apr 8, 2007 13:36:17 GMT -1
There was a young lady from Ealing who had a peculiar feeling she lay on her back opened her crack and piddled all over the ceiling School time classic! ;D
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Post by jh1980 on Apr 23, 2007 11:19:22 GMT -1
1st World War poetry generally gets to me, very dark but powerful. There's a French one by Benjamin Peret (Little Song of the Maimed) that goes roughly as follows:
"Lend me your arm to replace my leg The rats ate it for me At Verdun At Verdun I ate a lot of rats, but they didn't give me back my leg That's why I got a Military Cross And a wooden leg And a wooden leg."
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Post by weallloveleeds on Apr 23, 2007 16:51:58 GMT -1
also this.... 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! If by rudyard kipling That ones my favourite
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Post by Lollipop on Apr 23, 2007 17:01:03 GMT -1
How can I keep my soul in me, so that It doesn’t touch your soul? How can I raise It high enough, past you, to other things? I would like to shelter it, among remote Lost objects, in some dark and silent place That doesn’t resonate when your depths resound. Yet everything that touches us, me and you, Takes us together like a violin's bow, Which draws one voice out of two separate strings. Upon what instrument are we two spanned? And what musician holds us in his hand? Oh sweetest song.
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