Author Topic: Poems that move you  (Read 2945 times)

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Re: Poems that move you
« Reply #45 on: September 13, 2018, 08:21:21 PM »

Offline Greenback

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“Come out for the Domhnall, ye brave men and proud,

The scion of Torquil and best of MacLeod!

With purpose and strength he came down from his tower

To snatch from a tyrant his ill-gotten power.

Now the cry has gone up with a cheer from the crowd:

“Come out for the Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!”

 When freedom is threatened by slavery’s chains

And voices are silenced as misery reigns,

We’ll come out for a leader whose courage is true

Whose virtues are solid and long overdue.

For, he’ll never forget us, we men of the crowd

Who elected the Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!

When crippling corruption polluted our nation

 And plunged our economy into stagnation,

As self-righteous rogues took the opulent office

And plump politicians reneged on their promise

 The forgotten continued to form a great crowd

That defended the Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!

The Domhnall’s a giver whilst others just take,

Ne’er gaining from that which his hands did not make.

A builder of buildings, employing good men,

 He’s enriched many cities by factors of ten.

The honest and true gladly march with the crowd

Standing up for the Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!

True friend of the migrant from both far and near,

 He welcomes the worthy, but guards our frontier,

Lest a murderous horde, for whom hell is the norm,

 Should threaten our lives and our nation deform.

We immigrants hasten to swell the great crowd.”

Coming out for the Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!

Academe now lies dead, the old order rots,

No longer policing our words and our thoughts;

Its ignorant hirelings pretending to teach

 Are backward in vision, sophomoric in speech.

Now we learnèd of mind add ourselves to the crowd

That cheers on the Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!

 The black man, forgotten, in poverty dying,

The poor man, the sick man, with young children crying,

The soldier abroad and the mother who waits,

The young without work or behind prison gates,

The veterans, wounded, all welcome the crowd

That fights for the Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!

Whilst hapless old harridans flapping their traps

Teach women to look and behave like us chaps,

The Domhnall defends the defenseless forlorn;

For, a woman’s first right is the right to be born.

Now the bonnie young lassies that fly to the crowd

Have a champion in Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!
Everyone wants truth on his side, not everyone wants to be on the side of truth.

Re: Poems that move you
« Reply #46 on: September 19, 2018, 05:22:24 PM »

Offline greece666

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Home is so Sad (Philip Larkin, 1988)

Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
Having no heart to put aside the theft

And turn again to what it started as,
A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
The music in the piano stool. That vase.

Re: Poems that move you
« Reply #47 on: September 19, 2018, 06:01:48 PM »

Offline SHAQATTACK

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Ah yes ....

Gunga Din



regimental bhisti


Read it and  remember . Kipling

Re: Poems that move you
« Reply #48 on: September 19, 2018, 08:21:59 PM »

Offline greece666

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Ah yes ....

Gunga Din



regimental bhisti


Read it and  remember . Kipling

Gunga Din (Kipling, 1890)

You may talk o’ gin and beer   
When you’re quartered safe out ’ere,   
An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it;
But when it comes to slaughter   
You will do your work on water,
An’ you’ll lick the bloomin’ boots of ’im that’s got it.   
Now in Injia’s sunny clime,   
Where I used to spend my time   
A-servin’ of ’Er Majesty the Queen,   
Of all them blackfaced crew   
The finest man I knew
Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din,   
      He was ‘Din! Din! Din!
   ‘You limpin’ lump o’ brick-dust, Gunga Din!
      ‘Hi! Slippy hitherao
      ‘Water, get it! Panee lao,
   ‘You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.’

The uniform ’e wore
Was nothin’ much before,
An’ rather less than ’arf o’ that be’ind,
For a piece o’ twisty rag   
An’ a goatskin water-bag
Was all the field-equipment ’e could find.
When the sweatin’ troop-train lay
In a sidin’ through the day,
Where the ’eat would make your bloomin’ eyebrows crawl,
We shouted ‘Harry By!’
Till our throats were bricky-dry,
Then we wopped ’im ’cause ’e couldn’t serve us all.
      It was ‘Din! Din! Din!
   ‘You ’eathen, where the mischief ’ave you been?   
      ‘You put some juldee in it
      ‘Or I’ll marrow you this minute
   ‘If you don’t fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!’

’E would dot an’ carry one
Till the longest day was done;
An’ ’e didn’t seem to know the use o’ fear.
If we charged or broke or cut,
You could bet your bloomin’ nut,
’E’d be waitin’ fifty paces right flank rear.   
With ’is mussick on ’is back,
’E would skip with our attack,
An’ watch us till the bugles made 'Retire,’   
An’ for all ’is dirty ’ide
’E was white, clear white, inside
When ’e went to tend the wounded under fire!   
      It was ‘Din! Din! Din!’
   With the bullets kickin’ dust-spots on the green.   
      When the cartridges ran out,
      You could hear the front-ranks shout,   
   ‘Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!’

I shan’t forgit the night
When I dropped be’ind the fight
With a bullet where my belt-plate should ’a’ been.   
I was chokin’ mad with thirst,
An’ the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin’, gruntin’ Gunga Din.   
’E lifted up my ’ead,
An’ he plugged me where I bled,
An’ ’e guv me ’arf-a-pint o’ water green.
It was crawlin’ and it stunk,
But of all the drinks I’ve drunk,
I’m gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
      It was 'Din! Din! Din!
   ‘’Ere’s a beggar with a bullet through ’is spleen;   
   ‘’E's chawin’ up the ground,
      ‘An’ ’e’s kickin’ all around:
   ‘For Gawd’s sake git the water, Gunga Din!’

’E carried me away
To where a dooli lay,
An’ a bullet come an’ drilled the beggar clean.   
’E put me safe inside,
An’ just before ’e died,
'I ’ope you liked your drink,’ sez Gunga Din.   
So I’ll meet ’im later on
At the place where ’e is gone—
Where it’s always double drill and no canteen.   
’E’ll be squattin’ on the coals
Givin’ drink to poor [dang]ed souls,
An’ I’ll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!   
      Yes, Din! Din! Din!
   You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!   
   Though I’ve belted you and flayed you,   
      By the livin’ Gawd that made you,
   You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

I see there is also a 1939 film with Cary Grant. Added it to my watch list.

Re: Poems that move you
« Reply #49 on: September 20, 2018, 03:15:27 PM »

Offline greece666

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Ballade to the Forgotten Poets of the Ages (Kostas Karyotakis, 1921)

Detested by both men and gods,
like nobles who have bitterly decayed,
the Verlaines wither; wealth remains
to them, of rich and silvery .
With ‘Les Chatiments’ the Hugos are intoxicated
by their terrible Olympian revenge.
But I shall write a sorrowful
ballade to the forgotten poets.

Though the Poes have lived in misery,
and though the Baudelaires have suffered living deaths,
they've all been granted Immortality.
Yet no-one now remembers,
and the deepest darkness has completely buried,
every poetaster who produced limp poetry.
But I make as an offering this reverent
ballade to the forgotten poets.

The world’s disdain is heaped on them,
but they pass by, unyielding, pallid,
sacrifices to the tragic fraud that
out there somewhere Glory waits for them,
that wise and merry virgin.
But knowing that they're all due for oblivion,
I weep nostalgically this sorrowful
ballade to the forgotten poets.

And off in some far future epoch:
‘What forgotten poet’ I should like it to be asked
‘has written such a beggarly
ballade to the forgotten poets?’

Re: Poems that move you
« Reply #50 on: September 29, 2018, 12:58:42 PM »

Offline greece666

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When Dead (Thomas Hardy, could not find the year)
 

It will be much better when

I am under the bough;

I shall be more myself, Dear, then,

Than I am now.

 

No sign of querulousness

To wear you out

Shall I show there:  strivings and stress

Be quite without.

 

This fleeting life-brief blight

Will have gone past

When I resume my old and right

Place in the Vast.

 

And when you come to me

To show you true,

Doubt not I shall infallibly

Be waiting for you.

 ====================

I needed a healthy dose of Victorian sentimentalism, and that felt just about right.

Re: Poems that move you
« Reply #51 on: September 29, 2018, 04:20:54 PM »

Offline SHAQATTACK

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Minstrel Boy. by Thomas Moore  written circa 1800 ...not quite poetry...inspiration for the ❤️ just the same  :)

The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he has girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
"Land of Song!" said the warrior bard,
"Though all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and bravery!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!"
« Last Edit: September 29, 2018, 04:30:03 PM by SHAQATTACK »

Re: Poems that move you
« Reply #52 on: October 10, 2018, 01:59:31 PM »

Offline liam

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I need to get out more

The postal carrier

Drove by as I came home from the dentist

She stopped and said she had the Neflix movie

I had asked about when I left for the dentist

"Thanks"

"No problem" she said

"If you have a package, just leave it on the back porch and I'll take care of it" She said

I blushed

I need to get out more


~Liam Brooks

Re: Poems that move you
« Reply #53 on: October 13, 2018, 03:47:50 AM »

Offline greece666

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Minstrel Boy. by Thomas Moore  written circa 1800 ...not quite poetry...inspiration for the ❤️ just the same  :)

The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he has girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
"Land of Song!" said the warrior bard,
"Though all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and bravery!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!"

I really enjoyed reading the Minstrel Boy Fred. Not only does this song have poetic qualities, it also has strong emotional associations as it talks about true deaths, friends of Thomas Moore who were killed in the 1798 Rebellion.



I need to get out more

The postal carrier

Drove by as I came home from the dentist

She stopped and said she had the Neflix movie

I had asked about when I left for the dentist

"Thanks"

"No problem" she said

"If you have a package, just leave it on the back porch and I'll take care of it" She said

I blushed

I need to get out more


~Liam Brooks

^The most original submission I've seen so far.
« Last Edit: October 13, 2018, 02:25:57 PM by greece666 »

Re: Poems that move you
« Reply #54 on: October 13, 2018, 05:55:00 AM »

Offline greece666

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And There Was a Great Calm

(On the Signing of the Armistice, 11 Nov. 1918)
 
                                       I
There had been years of Passion—scorching, cold,
And much Despair, and Anger heaving high,
Care whitely watching, Sorrows manifold,
Among the young, among the weak and old,
And the pensive Spirit of Pity whispered, “Why?”
 
 
                                       II
Men had not paused to answer. Foes distraught
Pierced the thinned peoples in a brute-like blindness,
Philosophies that sages long had taught,
And Selflessness, were as an unknown thought,
And “Hell!” and “Shell!” were yapped at Lovingkindness.
 
 
                                       III
The feeble folk at home had grown full-used
To 'dug-outs', 'snipers', 'Huns', from the war-adept
In the mornings heard, and at evetides perused;
To day-dreamt men in millions, when they mused—
To nightmare-men in millions when they slept.
 
 
                                       IV
Waking to wish existence timeless, null,
Sirius they watched above where armies fell;
He seemed to check his flapping when, in the lull
Of night a boom came thencewise, like the dull
Plunge of a stone dropped into some deep well.
 
 
                                       V
So, when old hopes that earth was bettering slowly
Were dead and [dang]ed, there sounded 'War is done!'
One morrow. Said the bereft, and meek, and lowly,
'Will men some day be given to grace? yea, wholly,
And in good sooth, as our dreams used to run?'
 
 
                                       VI
Breathless they paused. Out there men raised their glance
To where had stood those poplars lank and lopped,
As they had raised it through the four years’ dance
Of Death in the now familiar flats of France;
And murmured, 'Strange, this! How? All firing stopped?'
 
 
                                       VII
Aye; all was hushed. The about-to-fire fired not,
The aimed-at moved away in trance-lipped song.
One checkless regiment slung a clinching shot
And turned. The Spirit of Irony smirked out, 'What?
Spoil peradventures woven of Rage and Wrong?'
 
 
                                       VIII
Thenceforth no flying fires inflamed the gray,
No hurtlings shook the dewdrop from the thorn,
No moan perplexed the mute bird on the spray;
Worn horses mused: 'We are not whipped to-day;'
No weft-winged engines blurred the moon’s thin horn.
 
 
                                       IX
Calm fell. From Heaven distilled a clemency;
There was peace on earth, and silence in the sky;
Some could, some could not, shake off misery:
The Sinister Spirit sneered: 'It had to be!'
And again the Spirit of Pity whispered, 'Why?'


Thomas Hardy