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Have you a favourite poem?
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"I noticed an error.. 'trooth' is actually spelt 'truth'... "fekk there's always one... you ...you....spellist! | |||
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"I like lots of poetry I used to write. My two favourites are The slaves dream The reaper and the flowers Both longfellow" Love his Song of Hiawatha. xxx | |||
"I noticed an error.. 'trooth' is actually spelt 'truth'...
fekk there's always one... you ...you....spellist! " ............ minces away giggling | |||
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"Apart from wordsworth i used to love spike milligans stuff, it made me laugh "Here's one of his which raises a titter.
GRANNY.
Through every nook and every cranny
The wind blew in on poor old Granny
Around her knees, into each ear
(And up nose as well, I fear)
All through the night the wind grew worse
It nearly made the vicar curse
The top had fallen off the steeple
Just missing him (and other people)
It blew on man, it blew on beast
It blew on nun, it blew on priest
It blew the wig off Auntie Fanny-
But most of all, it blew on Granny! | |||
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"Apart from wordsworth i used to love spike milligans stuff, it made me laugh
Here's one of his which raises a titter.
GRANNY.
Through every nook and every cranny
The wind blew in on poor old Granny
Around her knees, into each ear
(And up nose as well, I fear)
All through the night the wind grew worse
It nearly made the vicar curse
The top had fallen off the steeple
Just missing him (and other people)
It blew on man, it blew on beast
It blew on nun, it blew on priest
It blew the wig off Auntie Fanny-
But most of all, it blew on Granny! "
And another....
There are holes in the sky
Where the rain gets in
But there ever so small
That's why the rain is thin. | |||
"The best thing about poems is you can interpret them and there is no right or wrong" I love poetry, Maya Angelou is a favourite, as is Pablo Neruda.... my son just bought me a book of his poetry for mothers day. xxx | |||
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"The best thing about poems is you can interpret them and there is no right or wrong I love poetry, Maya Angelou is a favourite, as is Pablo Neruda.... my son just bought me a book of his poetry for mothers day. xxx" Love maya angelou, personaly i prefer her books to her poems | |||
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"Never come across this one before AV, thank you for sharing it with us. xxx" You're very welcome. It's a wee party piece I've used for many years. As Diamondsmiles points out there's no right or wrong way to deliver a poem, I prefer this in Scots but the important thing about poetry is sharing. | |||
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http://www.fabswingers.com/forum/lounge/50252 | |||
"[Removed by poster at 06/04/11 19:53:19]" Clock stopped?  | |||
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"[Removed by poster at 06/04/11 19:53:19] Clock stopped? "Brain did   | |||
"i wish i was a glow-worm, a glow-worm's never glum, 'cos how can you be gloomy, when the sun shines out ya bum? " I'm going to teach my grandson that one...he get's told off by my daughter for saying bum instead of bottom.  | |||
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"lmao at the Wendy Cope one, was it she who wrote Loss? " Do you mean this one.? Loss - Wendy Cope The day he moved was terrible- That evening she went through hell. His absence wasn't a problem But the corkscrew had gone as well. | |||
" this is one of my faves. by Philip Larkin, This Be The Verse They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had And add some extra, just for you. But they were fucked up in their turn By fools in old-style hats and coats, Who half the time were soppy-stern And half at one another's throats. Man hands on misery to man. It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, And don't have any kids yourself. but fave poet is wendy cope.. this one makes me laugh ever time.... Reading Scheme Here is Peter. Here is Jane. They like fun. Jane has a big doll. Peter has a ball. Look, Jane, look! Look at the dog! See him run! Here is Mummy. She has baked a bun. Here is the milkman. He has come to call. Here is Peter.Here is Jane. They like fun Go Peter! Go Jane! Come, milkman, come! The milkman likes Mummy. She likes them all Look, Jane, look! Look at the dog! See him run! Here are the curtains. They shut out the sun. Let us peep! On tiptoe Jane! You are small! Here is Peter. Here is Jane. They like fun. I hear a car, Jane. The milkman looks glum. Here is Daddy in his car. Daddy is tall. Look, Jane, look! Look at the dog! See him run! Daddy looks very cross. has he a gun? Up milkman Up milkman Over the wall! Here is Jane. They like fun. Look, Jane, look! Look at the dog! See him run! " Pure genius | |||
"I Loved You - Alexander Pushkin I loved you, and I probably still do, And for a while the feeling may remain... But let my love no longer trouble you, I do not wish to cause you any pain. I loved you; and the hopelessness I knew, The jealousy, the shyness - though in vain - Made up a love so tender and so true As may God grant you to be loved again. " I likes this one | |||
"lmao at the Wendy Cope one, was it she who wrote Loss? Do you mean this one.? Loss - Wendy Cope The day he moved was terrible- That evening she went through hell. His absence wasn't a problem But the corkscrew had gone as well. " That's the one! fabby. ty xxxx | |||
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like it....
I quite likes the one by ogden nash "fleas"
Adam
Had,em | |||
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"XX William H Auden back in the day 1945 i think and The Raven - Edgar Allan Poe - even further back in the day 1845" fook Karma, you have surprised me, didnae ken you were so refined.. | |||
""I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky; I left my shoes and socks there - I wonder if they're dry? "There are holes in the sky where the rain comes in. But they're everso small. That's why rain is thin. genius x | |||
"Apart from wordsworth i used to love spike milligans stuff, it made me laugh
Here's one of his which raises a titter.
GRANNY.
Through every nook and every cranny
The wind blew in on poor old Granny
Around her knees, into each ear
(And up nose as well, I fear)
All through the night the wind grew worse
It nearly made the vicar curse
The top had fallen off the steeple
Just missing him (and other people)
It blew on man, it blew on beast
It blew on nun, it blew on priest
It blew the wig off Auntie Fanny-
But most of all, it blew on Granny!
And another....
There are holes in the sky
Where the rain gets in
But there ever so small
That's why the rain is thin. "ooops just saw this | |||
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"Apart from wordsworth i used to love spike milligans stuff, it made me laugh
Here's one of his which raises a titter.
GRANNY.
Through every nook and every cranny
The wind blew in on poor old Granny
Around her knees, into each ear
(And up nose as well, I fear)
All through the night the wind grew worse
It nearly made the vicar curse
The top had fallen off the steeple
Just missing him (and other people)
It blew on man, it blew on beast
It blew on nun, it blew on priest
It blew the wig off Auntie Fanny-
But most of all, it blew on Granny!
And another....
There are holes in the sky
Where the rain gets in
But there ever so small
That's why the rain is thin.
ooops just saw this " | |||
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check it out on you tube | |||
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"when i am an old woman i shall wear purple with a red hat which doesnt go and doesnt suit me and i shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves and satin sandals and say we've no money for butter i shall sit down on the pavement when i'm tired and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells and run my stick along the public railings and make up for the sobriety of my youth i shall go out in my slippers in the rain and pick the flowers in other peoples gardens and learn to spit!! theres another verse but i have an RSI now" i love that poem,a friend recently lost her mum,and they read it at the service. For me saying do you have a favourite poem is like saying do you have a favourite song,it depends on my mood at the time,however,here are two that i always return to This Is Just To Say by William Carlos Williams I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold then there is THE SICK ROSE by: William Blake (1757-1827) ROSE, thou art sick! The invisible worm, That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy; And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy. bugger i could fill this thread,poetry speaks to the soul like nothing else,ill leave now before i bore everyone | |||
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well i was tempted to put up Dryden or Coleridge,and raise the question of how banal poetry has become,but if i can be forgiven for putting another poem in,
The most erotic poem ever,and it is that way because they could not say want to fuck,instead the image of blood mingling shows us why ppl who call themelves "bigcock102!"are so missing the point.
MARK but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is ;
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead ;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two ;
And this, alas ! is more than we would do.
O stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is.
Though parents grudge, and you, we're met,
And cloister'd in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it suck'd from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou
Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now.
'Tis true ; then learn how false fears be ;
Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.
Boring enough? | |||
"For laine, who has hidden her profile. Tom Leonard will be appearing at the STUC in Glasgow on Fri 29th April as part of a 'reclaim Mayday' weekend of events. He'll be reading a selection of his work, which will be recorded for a CD to be released later this year. The reading will be accompanied by an exhibition of Tom's posters. Venue: STUC, Woodlands Rd, Glasgow 7.00pm. Entry by donation (suggested donation £10) " Fantastic, thank you so much. Haven't heard him give a reading since my days at uni. I'll so try to get there. xxxxxx | |||
"when i am an old woman i shall wear purple with a red hat which doesnt go and doesnt suit me and i shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves and satin sandals and say we've no money for butter i shall sit down on the pavement when i'm tired and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells and run my stick along the public railings and make up for the sobriety of my youth i shall go out in my slippers in the rain and pick the flowers in other peoples gardens and learn to spit!! theres another verse but i have an RSI now" second verse, same as the first, a little bit louder and a little bit worse.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at a go
or only bread and pickles for a week
and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
and pay our rent and not swear in the street
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple. | |||
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"I like wilfred owen as well" You like anybody xx | |||
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"my favourite poem is one that was written about me by a very special person, and was written from the heart." Thats were all the best ones come from xx | |||
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