Category Archives: POETRY

~ Us Two – Alan Alexander Milne

Wherever I am, there’s always Pooh,
There’s always Pooh and Me.
Whatever I do, he wants to do,
“Where are you going today?” says Pooh:
“Well, that’s very odd ‘cos I was too.
Let’s go together,” says Pooh, says he.
“Let’s go together,” says Pooh.

“What’s twice eleven?” I said to Pooh.
(“Twice what?” said Pooh to Me.)
“I think it ought to be twenty-two.”
“Just what I think myself,” said Pooh.
“It wasn’t an easy sum to do,
But that’s what it is,” said Pooh, said he.
“That’s what it is,” said Pooh.

“Let’s look for dragons,” I said to Pooh.
“Yes, let’s,” said Pooh to Me.
We crossed the river and found a few-
“Yes, those are dragons all right,” said Pooh.
“As soon as I saw their beaks I knew.
That’s what they are,” said Pooh, said he.
“That’s what they are,” said Pooh.

“Let’s frighten the dragons,” I said to Pooh.
“That’s right,” said Pooh to Me.
“I’m not afraid,” I said to Pooh,
And I held his paw and I shouted “Shoo!
Silly old dragons!”- and off they flew.

“I wasn’t afraid,” said Pooh, said he,
“I’m never afraid with you.”

So wherever I am, there’s always Pooh,
There’s always Pooh and Me.
“What would I do?” I said to Pooh,
“If it wasn’t for you,” and Pooh said: “True,
It isn’t much fun for One, but Two,
Can stick together, says Pooh, says he. “That’s how it is,” says Pooh.

~ Us Two – Alan Alexander Milne

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Poetry

My family slept those level miles
but like a bell rung deep till dawn
I drove down an aisle of sound,
nothing real but in the bell,
past the town where I was born.

Once you cross a land like that
you own your face more: what the light
struck told a self; every rock
denied all the rest of the world.
We stopped at Sharon Springs and ate–

My state still dark, my dream too long to tell.

~ Crossing the Frontier – Alec Derwent Hope

Crossing the frontier they were stopped in time,
Told, quite politely, they would have to wait:
Passports in order, nothing to declare
And surely holding hands was not a crime
Until they saw how, ranged across the gate,
All their most formidable friends were there.

Wearing his conscience like a crucifix,
Her father, rampant, nursed the Family Shame;
And, armed wlth their old-fashioned dinner-gong,
His aunt, who even when they both were six,
Had just to glance towards a childish game
To make them feel that they were doing wrong.

And both their mothers, simply weeping floods,
Her head-mistress, his boss, the parish priest,
And the bank manager who cashed their cheques;
The man who sold him his first rubber-goods;
Dog Fido, from whose love-life, shameless beast,
She first observed the basic facts of sex.

They looked as though they had stood there for hours;
For years – perhaps for ever. In the trees
Two furtive birds stopped courting and flew off;
While in the grass beside the road the flowers
Kept up their guilty traffic with the bees.
Nobody stirred. Nobody risked a cough.

Nobody spoke. The minutes ticked away;
The dog scratched idly. Then, as parson bent
And whispered to a guard who hurried in,
The customs-house loudspeakers with a bray
Of raucous and triumphant argument
Broke out the wedding march from Lohengrin.

He switched the engine off: “We must turn back.”
She heard his voice break, though he had to shout
Against a din that made their senses reel,
And felt his hand, so tense in hers, go slack.
But suddenly she laughed and said: “Get out!
Change seatsl Be quickl” and slid behind the wheel.

And drove the car straight at them with a harsh,
Dry crunch that showered both with scraps and chips,
Drove through them; barriers rising let them pass
Drove through and on and on, with Dad’s moustache
Beside her twitching still round waxen lips
And Mother’s tears still streaming down the glass.

~ Crossing the Frontier – Alec Derwent Hope

Australian Poet

Some great hidden truth’s there. Great poem….


MOVE OVER DOROTHEA MACKELLAR



When the shearing sheds are silent and the stock camps fallen quiet

When the gidgee coals no longer glow across the outback night

And the bush is forced to hang a sign, ‘gone broke and won’t be back’

And spirits fear to find a way beyond the beaten track

When harvesters stand derelict upon the wind swept plains

And brave hearts pin their hopes no more on chance of loving rains

When a hundred outback settlements are ghost towns overnight

When we’ve lost the drive and heart we had to once more see us right

When ‘Pioneer’ means a stereo and ‘Digger’ some backhoe

And the ‘Outback’ is behind the house, there’s nowhere else to go

And ‘Anzac’ is a biscuit brand and probably foreign owned

And education really means brainwashed and neatly cloned

When you have to bake a loaf of bread to make a decent crust

And our heritage once enshrined in gold is crumbling to dust

And old folk pay their camping fees on land for which they fought

And fishing is a great escape; this is until you’re caught

When you see our kids with yankee caps and resentment in their eyes

And the soaring crime and hopeless hearts is no longer a surprise

When the name of RM Williams is a yuppie clothing brand

Not a product of our heritage that grew off the land

When offering a hand makes people think you’ll amputate

And two dogs meeting in the street is what you call a ‘Mate’

When ‘Political Correctness’ has replaced all common sense

When you’re forced to see it their way, there’s no sitting on the fence

Yes one day you might find yourself an outcast in this land

Perhaps your heart will tell you then, ‘I should have made a stand’

Just go and ask the farmers that should remove all doubt

Then join the swelling ranks who say, ‘don’t sell Australia out’

Author unknown


~ Bredon Hill – Alfred Edward Housman

In summer on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In steeples far and near,
A happy noise to hear.
Here of a Sunday morning
My love and I would lie,
And see the colored counties,
And hear the larks so high
About us in the sky.
The bells would ring to call her
In valleys miles away:
‘Come all to church, good people;
Good people, come and pray.
But here my love would stay.
And I would turn and answer
Among the springing thyme,
‘Oh, peal upon our wedding,
And we will hear the chime,
And come to church in time.
But when the snows at Christmas
On Bredon top were strewn,
My love rose up so early
And stole out unknown
And went to church alone.
They tolled the one bell only,
Groom there was none to see,
The mourners followed after,
And so to church went she,
And would not wait for me.
The bells they sound on Bredon,
And still the steeples hum.
‘Come all to church, good people,’ –
Oh, noisy bells, be dumb;
I hear you, I will come.

~ Bredon Hill – Alfred Edward Housman

~ Be Still, My Soul, Be Still – Alfred Edward Housman

Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle,
Earth and high heaven are fit of old and founded strong.
Think rather,– call to thought, if now you grieve a little,
The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long.
Men loved unkindness then, but lifeless in the quarry
I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn;
Sweat ran and blood sprang out, and I was never sorry:
Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born.
Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason,
I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun.
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season:
Let us endure an hour and see injustice done.
An, look high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation;
All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain:
Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation–
Oh why did I awake?

When shall I sleep again?

~ – Alexander Pushkin

Bound for your distant home
you were leaving alien lands.
In an hour as sad as I’ve known
I wept over your hands.
My hands were numb and cold,
still trying to restrain
you, whom my hurt never told to end this pain.
But you snatched your lips away
from our bitterest kiss.
You invoked another place
than the dismal exile of this.
You said, ‘When we meet again,
in the shadow of olive-trees,
we shall kiss, in a love without pain,
under cloudless infinities.’
But there, alas, where the sky
shines with blue radiance,
where olive-tree shadows lie
on the waters glittering dance,
your beauty, you’re suffering,
are lost in eternity.
But the sweet kiss of our meeting …
I wait for it: you owe it me …
~ Alexander Pushkin

“Misconceptions” Robert Browning

This is a spray the Bird clung to,
Making it blossom with pleasure,
Ere the high tree-top she sprung to,
Fit for her nest and her treasure
O, what a hope beyond measure
Was the poor spray’s, which the flying feet hung to,—
So to be singled out, built in, and sung to!
This is a heart the Queen leant on,
Thrill’d in a minute erratic,
Ere the true bosom she bent on,
Meet for love’s regal dalmatic
O, what a fancy ecstatic
Was the poor heart’s, ere the wanderer went on—
Love to be saved for it, proffer’d to, spent on!

Was a Famous Catholic Poet Jack the Ripper?

https://wp.me/pa0fu5-L

POET

Day 6
For my last post as Writer of the Week I shall talk about two poets from different eras and different viewpoints, William Blake and T.S. Eliot.
William Blake was an English poet, painter and printmaker, largely unrecognised during his lifetime. Blake is now considered a seminal figure in the history of the poetry and visual arts of the Romantic Age.

Blake was an epic poet consciously in the Protestant tradition of Spenser and Milton and not any sort of a mystic.

T.S. Eliot was born in St Louis, Missouri, moved to England in 1914 at the age of 25.
He attracted widespread attention for his poem ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.’ ‘Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats(1939) is a collection of whimsical poems by T. S. Eliot about feline psychology and sociology.

‘The Waste Land ‘ is a long poem by T.S. Eliot widely regarded as one of the most important poems of the 20th Century and a central work of modernist poetry.

‘The Hollow Man’-
The final stanza
‘This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper

POETRY

Day 5
W H Auden was an Ehglish-American poet. Auden’s poetry was noted for its stylistic and technical achievement, its engagement with politics, morals, love and religion. He is best known for love poems such as ‘Funeral Blues’, poems on political and social themes such as ‘September 1 1939’ and ‘The Shield of Achilles’, poems on cultural and psychological themes such ‘The Age of Anxiety’ and poems on religious themes such as ‘For the Time Being.’
John Donne was an English poet and cleric in the Church of England. He is considered the pre eminent representative of the metaphysical poets. His works are noted for their strong, sensual style and include sonnets, love poems, religious poems.

‘No Man is an Island’

No man is an island entire of
itself, every man is a piece of
the continent, a part of the main,
if a clod be wasted away by
the sea.
Europe is the less,
As well as if a promontory were
As well as if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine own were
Any man’s death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in
mankind,
And thereforenever send to know
for whom the bell tolls
It tolls for thee.

POET

Day 4
John Keats was an English Romantic poet, along with Lord Byron and Percy Bysshe Shelley, despite his works having been in publication for only 4 years before his death from tuberculosis at age 25.

A thing of beauty (Endymion)
is a joy forever
its loveliness increases;it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams and health,
and quiet breathing…

Ode on a Grecian Urn
Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than
our rhyme…

Lord Byron ‘mad, bad and dangerous to know’
the heartthrob of 19th century London. Author of Don Juan,
a satirical novel – in verse that is considered one of the greatest epic poems in English.

POET

Day 3
Another poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley

For love, and beauty, and delight
There is no death nor change;
their might
Exceeds our organs, which endure
No light being themselves obscure.

W B Yeats was an Irish poet and one of the foremost figures of 20th Century literature, received the 1923 Nobel Prize for Literature. The Second Coming is a poem written by WB Yeats in 1919, The poem uses Christian imagery regarding the Apocalypse and Second Coming allegorically to describe the atmosphere of post-war Europe. It is considered a major work of modern poetry.
Gerard Manley Hopkins is one of the 3 or 4 greatest poets of the Victorian era – the greatest Victorian poet of religion, of nature or of melancholy. He wrote mainly sonnets.

My poem ‘Ode to GM Hopkins’;
Dappled leaves,
the light disperses
into a rainbow.
After the shower,
we greet the day,
how stark the southern sun
unless softened by greenery,
a canopy, to divert its rays.
To play upon the wings
of a butterfly,
a buzz of cicadas,
an antipodean Christmas.

POETRY

Day 2

Yeats and the Romantics – the theme is the saving transformation that attends some form of humanism – the poem as an alternative world to that of nature.

Some of these poets include Spenser and Milton, Blake, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelley and Keats on to Tennyson, Browning, Swinburne, and William Morris.

Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote the poem ‘Ozymandias’ which deals with the theme of mortality.

Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said -‘Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert…Near them on the sand

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well – those passions read,

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that feel;

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despai
r
Nothing beside remains, round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

My poem ‘Uluru’ alludes to Ozymandias.

Uluru

Monolithic

Mysterious as life

Sapphire sky above

Red dust below

The Dreamtime –

No beginning/ no end

Worshipped by the

Anangu people

Not as Ozymandias’

Man-built colossal wreck

Now lying in mortal decay

Uluru

Immortal/eternal

Off-limits a sacred site

In tune with nature

The planet

The seasons.

POETRY

Day 1
Poetry is a type of literature or artistic writing that attempts to stir a reader’s imaginaton or emotions. The poet does this by carefully choosing and arranging language for its meaning, sound and rhythm.
There are over 50 types of poetry. Poetry is categorized by the number of lines in the poem, the words in the poem, whether it rhymes or not and what it is about.
The sonnet is a short rhyming poem with 14 lines (see Shakespeare’s sonnets).
The limerick is a 5-line witty poem with a distinctive rhythm.
Haiku – this ancient form of poem is renowned for its small size as well as the precise punctuation and syllables needed on its three lines.
Some poems, such as nursery rhymes are simple and humorous.
The pastoral elicits such wonderful senses of peace and harmony.
Rhyming verse was the norm in the past eg. bush poetry. Modern poetry uses free verse eg. T.S. Eliot.