Solomon's poetry thread

[Solomon1]

what a lovely little poem! - so simple and so true

[jobee]

What the hell

does this pain and fear mean?

You claim there’s a plan,

yet refuse to be seen.

 

Are you really so gutless,

and afraid to explain,

whilst your spokesmen sit by,

counting the riches they gain.

 

If you are truly the father,

Is this what you call love?

To sit idly by,

in your castle above.

 

Whilst down here on earth,

your children are crying.

Hells hounds are here,

and your flock is a dying.

 

What kind of father,

sits back in such silence,

Whilst his angry young offspring,

show naught but defiance.

 

As a father I try,

to raise my son right.

To love all your creatures,

and never to fight.

 

As a son I must wonder,

is any of this real.

What kind of messed up father,

allows this pain that we feel?

 

Young children are dying,

and some think they should.

How long before you show them,

that this world can be good?

 

You don’t seem to hear us,

you don’t show you care.

Whilst millions lay dying,

you ignore their despair.

 

Still your clergy sit by,

and argue who’s just,

all the while they keep guiltlessly,

caving to lust.

 

What kind of god,

could claim to have cried,

when killing his son,

saying for us that he died?

 

Your preachers would have us,

believe bull**** stories.

Yet all the time scheming,

whilst praising your glories.

 

Encouraging violence,

in defence of your name,

yet all these religions,

seem to be teaching the same.

 

They all claim to be righteous,

they claim to be real,

yet from our existence,

it’s our hope that they steal.

 

So show yourself coward,

If you truly exist,

come set this all right,

Tell us the truth that we missed.

[redrobbo]

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

 

Come live with me and be my love,

And we will all the pleasures prove,

That hills and valleys, dales and fields,

And all the craggy mountains yields.

 

There we will sit upon the rocks,

And see the shepherds feed their flocks,

By shallow rivers to whose falls

Melodious birds sing madrigals.

 

And I will make thee beds of roses

With a thousand fragrant posies,

A cap of flowers, and a kirtle

Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

 

A gown made of the finest wool

Which from our pretty lambs we pull;

Fair linèd slippers for the cold,

With buckles of the purest gold;

 

A belt of straw and ivy buds,

With coral clasps and amber studs:

And if these pleasures may thee move,

Come live with me and be my love.

 

The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing

For thy delight each May morning:

If these delights thy mind may move,

Then live with me and be my love.

 

Christopher Marlowe

 

 

The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd

 

If all the world and love were young,

And truth in every shepherd's tongue,

These pretty pleasures might me move

To live with thee and be thy love.

 

Time drives the flocks from field to fold,

When rivers rage and rocks grow cold,

And Philomel becometh dumb;

The rest complains of cares to come.

 

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields

To wayward winter reckoning yields;

A honey tongue, a heart of gall,

Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

 

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,

Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies

Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,

In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

 

Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,

Thy coral clasps and amber studs,

All these in me no means can move

To come to thee and be thy love.

 

But could youth last and love still breed,

Had joys no date nor age no need,

Then these delights my mind might move

To live with thee and be thy love.

 

Sir Walter Ralegh

[pattricia]

A beautiful poem Robbo.

[Solomon1]

A Poem For Those Over 30

 

A computer was something on TV

From a science fiction show of note

A window was something you hated to clean

And ram was the cousin of a goat.

 

Meg was the name of my girlfriend

And gig was a job for the nights

Now they all mean different things

And that really mega bites.

 

An application was for employment

A program was a TV show

A curser used profanity

A keyboard was a piano.

 

Memory was something that you lost with age

A CD was a bank account

And if you had a 3 inch floppy

You hoped nobody found out.

 

Compress was something you did to the garbage

Not something you did to a file.

And if you unzipped anything in public

You'd be in jail for awhile.

 

Log on was adding wood to the fire

Hard drive was a long trip on the road

A mouse pad was where a mouse lived

And a back up happened to your commode.

 

Cut you did with a pocket knife.

Paste you did with glue

A web was a spider's home

And a virus was the flu.

 

I guess I'll stick to my pad and paper

And the memory in my head

I hear nobody's been killed in a computer crash

But when it happens, they'll wish they were dead.

 

Anon

[hazel]

This poem I used to read to my children from the Mother Goose book of Rhymes and it sort of stayed in my memory

 

 

Little Jenny Wren fell sick,

Upon a time;

In came Robin Redbreast

And brought her cake and wine.

 

"Eat well of my cake, Jenny,

Drink well of my wine."

"Thank you, Robin, kindly,

You shall be mine."

 

Jenny she got well,

And stood upon her feet,

And told Robin plainly

She loved him not a bit.

 

Robin being angry,

Hopped upon a twig,

Saying, "Out upon you! Fie upon you!

Bold-faced jig!"

 

 

from Nursery Rhyme Songs

 

hazel

[Solomon1]

Saying, "Out upon you! Fie upon you!

Bold-faced jig!"

 

what a poem for a child haha! and i remember this last line so well - not thought of it in YEARS

[pattricia]

I love this quiet thread. Hi Sol

[Solomon1]

Don't Worry Be Happy

 

 

Here is a little song I wrote

You might want to sing it note for note

Don't worry be happy

In every life we have some trouble

When you worry you make it double

Don't worry, be happy......

 

Ain't got no place to lay your head

Somebody came and took your bed

Don't worry, be happy

The land lord say your rent is late

He may have to litigate

Don't worry, be happy

Look at me I am happy

Don't worry, be happy

Here I give you my phone number

When you worry call me

I make you happy

Don't worry, be happy

Ain't got no cash, ain't got no style

Ain't got not girl to make you smile

But don't worry be happy

Cause when you worry

Your face will frown

And that will bring everybody down

So don't worry, be happy (now) .....

 

There is this little song I wrote

I hope you learn it note for note

Like good little children

Don't worry, be happy

Listen to what I say

In your life expect some trouble

But when you worry

You make it double

Don't worry, be happy......

Don't worry don't do it, be happy

Put a smile on your face

Don't bring everybody down like this

Don't worry, it will soon past

Whatever it is

Don't worry, be happy

 

Emri Arlene Trainor

[Solomon1]

I love this quiet thread. Hi Sol

 

pats! how u doin chicken?