Category Archives: POET

~ 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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~ 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

~ – 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, β€˜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

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.

A letter to my husband πŸ’₯πŸ’₯

I never had that feeling of butterflies whenever we are together.

For me it’s always been a tsunami.

No it’s more like a hurricane, or, maybe a tornado.

So more powerful I don’t want it to stop

Anyway I can’t stop it coming

Waiting for the aftermath of floating calmness

( knocked out again😁)

“Sonnet #151” William Shakespeare

Love is too young to know what conscience is;
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:
For, thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my gross body’s treason;
My soul doth tell my body that he may
Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason,
But rising at thy name doth point out thee
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side
No want of conscience hold it that I call
Her β€œlove” for whose dear love I rise and fall

Cultural Compostische

https://culturalcompostische.wordpress.com/

In recent times jfastereft has given mydaz. Blog permission to showcase many posts unseen before.
Jfastereft is a prolific Artist in fields we only dream of being.

We are truly blessed to be the Students of the Master.

Peace

Jfastereft is a prolific Artist in fields we only dream of being.

We are truly blessed to be the Students of the Master.

Peace

A LETTER IN HISOTRY, LOVE STORY β™₯πŸ’₯⭐🌞β™₯

A letter by Kurt Vonnegut to his wife, Jane! Amazing!

History Romantic Buffs for your pleasure KURT VONNEGUT.😍

Kurt Vonnegut was in Dresden, Germany, as a prisoner of the Nazis, and he was present when the city was fire-bombed; his experiences must have been the basis for his novel “Slaughterhouse House 5,” one of my favourite books/films! I am presently still working on the painting: “DRESDEN IN THE SPRINGTIME!”

This being the Couple in Love πŸ˜˜πŸ˜—πŸ˜—πŸ˜˜

β€œTHE MUSE AND THE MASTER!” a poem. a.k.πŸ™„πŸ˜

β€œTHE MUSE AND THE MASTER!” a poem. a.k.a.: β€œCreek Dance!” Saturday, May 5, 2018.

The Muse and The Master,

Down by β€œThe Creek!”

The Master, inspired, took a quick peek:

Of-The-Muse’s β€œaccessories;” it was A THRILL –

So scrunchy and yummy; let’s climb up β€œThe Hill,”

And massag-ee The Earth and smell the fine dirt and lick every flower and make the buds pert,

And all of Creation will beam with such joy,

The Master,

The Muse,

Every Girl and Boy!

We’ll dance and we’ll sing and we’ll smile to The King, and

The Queen sheds her clothes and sprays The King’s hose,

To water The Garden;

And-we’ll shout: β€œHip-Hoo-ray,”

And this we will do (pause) each and e-ver-y DAY.

OK?

fin. <3

β€œIt’s safe – to dance!” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjPau5QYtYs

β€œTHE EARTH WILL LIVE AND CRY!β€πŸ™„

β€œTHE EARTH WILL LIVE AND CRY!” a poem. May-o 5 2018. Saturday.

The Hebrew name for β€œEVE” is Chaya, something that we know,

From learned Jewish scholars – who studied long ago,

EVE means LIVING, ADAM, EARTH,

And, together, There’s β€œSecond Birth!”

So, when-young-Jesus met the maiden, The-Girl at The Well,

He told her of her husbands, But-there’s other stuff to tell:

He mentioned, just in passing, THE TWO SHALL BE AS ONE,

And, when The Two unite, My Friends, there is a lot of fun,

Because WHEN TWO FOLKS MEET IN LOVE, AND EACH ONE’S CRAZY MAD, THINKING OF THE OTHER; THEY GET SO VERY GLAD!

Explosions-are-inevitable! The Earth* will Live** and Tear,***

And, suddenly, ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE – IT-is so very clear:

So, don’t get scared, All things are fine, EL WILL WORK IT OUT!

And when S(H)e does, ALL THINGS GET HAPPY,

And-We’ll cheer and shout!

fin. <3

    • ADAM

** – EVE

*** – as in tear-drop! πŸ™‚

You are the Rose of me,❀

“You are the Rose of me,
In you have I lost myself utterly,
Your fragrance, as a breath from Paradise,
About me ever lies;
I crush you to my heart with subtlest ecstasy
And on your lips I live, and in your passionate eyes
You are the Dream of me,
My visions many-footed flit and flee
Beneath the jewelled arches of Life’s grace
But through lone nights and days,
One form I follow, and mine eyes but see
The dear delightful wonder of your love-lit face
You are the Greatness of me,
My thoughts are Beauty shaped exquisitely
To the rare pattern of your loveliness
Exceeding all excess:
And the strange magic of this mystery,
Steals weight from burdened hours, and woe from weariness”