Solomon's poetry thread

[norks]

this iss my most favourite poem of all time, it is written by john betjeman and i find it very moving.

 

The kind old face, the egg-shaped head,

The tie, discreetly loud,

The loosely fitting shooting clothes,

A closely fitting shroud.

 

He liked old city dining rooms,

Potatoes in their skin,

But now his mouth is wide to let

The London clay come in.

 

He took me on long silent walks

In country lanes when young.

He knew the names of ev'ry bird

But not the song it sung.

 

And when he could not hear me speak

He smiled and looked so wise

That now I do not like to think

Of maggots in his eyes.

 

He liked the rain-washed Cornish air

And smell of ploughed-up soil,

He liked a landscape big and bare

And painted it in oil.

 

But least of all he liked that place

Which hangs on Highgate Hill

Of soaked Carrara-covered earth

For Londoners to fill.

 

He would have liked to say goodbye,

Shake hands with many friends,

In Highgate now his finger-bones

Stick through his finger-ends.

 

You, God, who treat him thus and thus,

Say "Save his soul and pray."

You ask me to believe You and

I only see decay.

 

[redrobbo]

write your own, come on, lets have it out of you

 

Thank you jobee. I have followed your advice, and have now composed my own poem. See my following post.

 

red

[redrobbo]

The smile that never left you.

 

Someone told me that life is not always kind,

And so it was when you went blind.

You no longer saw the morning clouds or sunset hues,

The sweeping vistas, nor mountain views.

But your smile was always there for me -

The smile that never left you.

 

Someone told me that life is a bore,

Repeating daily events, the same old chore.

And when you grew old, your routines were restricted

To just essential care, or so it was depicted.

But your smile was always there for me –

The smile that never left you.

 

Someone told me that life can be rough,

And when your memory failed, you found it tough.

Though you racked your brain,

You’d still confuse my name.

But your smile was always there for me –

The smile that never left you.

 

Someone told me that life is often hard,

And when you received that red card,

Your body grew weak; you began to stumble,

Then crashed to the floor with an almighty tumble.

But your smile was always there for me –

The smile that never left you.

 

Someone told me it would be kinder if you died,

The quality of your life had gone – and though the surgeon tried

To operate, you were frightened and so fearful,

And to see you in that state just left us tearful.

But your smile was always there for me –

The smile that never left you.

 

I want to tell someone that though old age had left you ravaged,

These are not the memories of you that I have salvaged.

I see you, mother, still radiant and fair,

Your beautiful complexion, your lovely hair,

Your cheerful voice, your laughing lilt,

And when I left you one last time I turned to tilt,

And saw your smile was still there for me –

The smile that never left you.

 

In memory of Poppy Susannah Robson, born 11.11.1922, died 13.01.2010.

 

R.I.P

[hazel]

Makes me think of myself and my sons in a few years time Rob.

I find it very moving.

 

hazel.

[jobee]

The smile that never left you.

 

Someone told me that life is not always kind,

And so it was when you went blind.

You no longer saw the morning clouds or sunset hues,

The sweeping vistas, nor mountain views.

But your smile was always there for me -

The smile that never left you.

 

Someone told me that life is a bore,

Repeating daily events, the same old chore.

And when you grew old, your routines were restricted

To just essential care, or so it was depicted.

But your smile was always there for me –

The smile that never left you.

 

Someone told me that life can be rough,

And when your memory failed, you found it tough.

Though you racked your brain,

You’d still confuse my name.

But your smile was always there for me –

The smile that never left you.

 

Someone told me that life is often hard,

And when you received that red card,

Your body grew weak; you began to stumble,

Then crashed to the floor with an almighty tumble.

But your smile was always there for me –

The smile that never left you.

 

Someone told me it would be kinder if you died,

The quality of your life had gone – and though the surgeon tried

To operate, you were frightened and so fearful,

And to see you in that state just left us tearful.

But your smile was always there for me –

The smile that never left you.

 

I want to tell someone that though old age had left you ravaged,

These are not the memories of you that I have salvaged.

I see you, mother, still radiant and fair,

Your beautiful complexion, your lovely hair,

Your cheerful voice, your laughing lilt,

And when I left you one last time I turned to tilt,

And saw your smile was still there for me –

The smile that never left you.

 

In memory of Poppy Susannah Robson, born 11.11.1922, died 13.01.2010.

 

R.I.P

 

very well done red.j

[Solomon1]

The smile that never left you

 

 

big hugz to you, red

[Solomon1]

A Piece Of Toast

 

Noonday

 

Henry and I have ordered

our lunch and our waiting

Here, in this beautiful dining

room, we both take our meals,

often at the same table.

Henry is rich, self-made.

He talks well of financial

matters, rarely of anything else.

His ideal to found a fortune.

The waiter brings our lunch.

Henry flies into a rage. "I ordered

a piece of well-done toast!

Are you hard hearing! What do

you mean bringing me this?"

...etc. his face flushed.

 

This afternoon I stood beside

Henry's grave. Eleven

years have gone down the

river of time.

I could not help remembering the

day Henry lost his temper.

A piece of toast - what a

very little thing in the great

mystery and tragedy of life!

 

Max Ehrmann

[Solomon1]

I like this poem because it is a reminder of the two rules of life:

 

1) Don't sweat the small stuff

2) It's all small stuff!

 

Robert Elliot

[grinder]

GUNGA DIN..

 

You may talk o' gin and beer

When you'er 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 backfaced 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'hind,

for a piece o' twisty rag

an' a goatskin water-bag

was all the field-equpment '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 here 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' 'e 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 chewin' on 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 came 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 bouble drill and no canteen.

'E'll be squattin' on the coals

givin' drink to poor lost 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.....

 

R.Kipling

[millhouses24]

I love this - it's technically song lyrics but it is so beautiful and sophisticated I think it belongs here .

 

One for all those who sometimes struggle accepting traditional gender roles:

 

"

 

I won't forget when Peter Pan came to my house, took my hand

I said I was a boy; I'm glad he didn't check.

I learned to fly, I learned to fight

I lived a whole life in one night

We saved each other's lives out on the pirate's deck.

 

And I remember that night

When I'm leaving a late night with some friends

And I hear somebody tell me it's not safe,

someone should help me

I need to find a nice man to walk me home.

 

When I was a boy, I scared the pants off of my mom,

Climbed what I could climb upon

And I don't know how I survived,

I guess I knew the tricks that all boys knew.

 

And you can walk me home, but I was a boy, too.

 

I was a kid that you would like, just a small boy on her bike

Riding topless, yeah, I never cared who saw.

My neighbor came outside to say, "Get your shirt,"

I said "No way, it's the last time I'm not breaking any law."

 

And now I'm in this clothing store, and the signs say less is more

More that's tight means more to see, more for them, not more for me

That can't help me climb a tree in ten seconds flat

 

When I was a boy, See that picture? That was me

Grass-stained shirt and dusty knees

And I know things have gotta change,

They got pills to sell, they've got implants to put in,

they've got implants to remove

 

But I am not forgetting...that I was a boy too

 

And like the woods where I would creep, it's a secret I can keep

Except when I'm tired, 'cept when I'm being caught off guard

And I've had a lonesome awful day, the conversation finds its way

To catching fire-flies out in the backyard.

 

And so I tell the man I'm with about the other life I lived

And I say, "Now you're top gun, I have lost and you have won"

And he says, "Oh no, no, can't you see

 

When I was a girl, my mom and I we always talked

And I picked flowers everywhere that I walked.

And I could always cry, now even when I'm alone I seldom do

And I have lost some kindness

But I was a girl too.

And you were just like me, and I was just like you"