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Carpal Tunnel
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Jazzo's lovely "Poetry" thread prompts me to start two spin-off threads. I do so with some trepidation, unsure whether they will be of interest, but trusting that I will be forgiven if in error.
For this thread: In jazzo's thread many of us offered some of our favorite poems, and most of them are of serious tone. What are our favorite lighter poems (excluding epigrams and similar short quips, as that could be a whole 'nuther thread)? Particularly, poems that use their light tone to make a serious point -- perhaps even to freeze that point in one memorable, crystalline phrase.
One of my favorites, below (crystal phrase highlighted), sounds the same theme as the poem jazzo offered, Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken. ------------ The Calf-Path by Sam Walter Foss
One day, through the primeval wood, A calf walked home, as good calves should; But made a trail all bent askew, A crooked trail as all calves do.
Since then two hundred years have fled, And, I infer, the calf is dead. But still he left behind his trail, And thereby hangs my moral tale.
The trail was taken up next day By a lone dog that passed that way; And then a wise bell-wether sheep Pursued the trail o'er vale and steep, And drew the flock behind him, too, As good bell-wethers always do.
And from that day, o'er hill and glade, Through those old woods a path was made; And many men wound in and out, And dodged, and turned, and bent about And uttered words of righteous wrath Because 'twas such a crooked path. But still they followed---do not laugh--- The first migration of that calf, And through this winding wood-way stalked, Because he wobbled when he walked.
This forest path became a lane, That bent, and turned, and turned again; This crooked lane became a road, Where many a poor horse with his load Toiled on beneath the burning sun, And traveled some three miles in one. And thus a century and a half They trod the footsteps of that calf.
The years passed on in swiftness fleet, The road became a village street; And this, before men were aware, A city's crowded thoroughfare; And soon the central street was this Of a renowned metropolis; And men two centuries and a half Trod the footsteps of that calf.
Each day a hundred thousand rout Followed the zigzag calf about; And o'er his crooked journey went The traffic of a continent. A hundred thousand men were led By one calf near three centuries dead. They followed still his crooked his way, And lost one hundred years a day; For thus such reverence is lent To well-established precedent.
A moral lesson this might teach, Were I ordained and called to preach; For men are prone to go it blind Along the calf-paths of the mind, And work away from sun to sun To do what other men have done. They follow in the beaten track, And out and in, and forth and back, And still there devious course pursue, To keep the path that others do.
But how the wise old wood-gods laugh, Who saw the first primeval calf! Ah! many things this tale might teach--- But I am not ordained to preach.
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Carpal Tunnel
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Thanks for this one, Keiva! I've read at least one other poem in imitation of Frost that has long escaped me. It had something to do with a sump pump. Does anyone know this one? I'd love to have that one back in hand.
A note on Frost: He was embittered that he was never chosen for the Nobel prize. I'm a bit embittered myself on his behalf. He also is quoted as having admitted not to reading much poetry of others. I wonder whether this was just a writer's lie?
Beat regards, WordWary
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Pooh-Bah
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Pooh-Bah
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Nice one, Keiva! and so true! Must take issue with the author,though - ... drew the flock behind him, too, As good bell-wethers always do.- a wether is a sheep, not a ram! (Pedantry Rules OK ) I have a number of "Comic and Curious" verses that appeal to me and which I would like to share, but I have not committed any of them perfectly to memory, so it will have to wait until I am back home among my reference books.
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at least one other poem in imitation of Frost My apologies, Dub-Dub; I should have been clearer. Foss lived from 1858 to 1911. That is, Foss pre-dates Frost.
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Carpal Tunnel
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NO SOY DE AQUI Letra de Facundo Cabral Musica de Facundo Cabral
Me gusta el sol, Alicia y las palomas, el buen cigarro y la guitarra espanola, saltar paredes y abrir las ventanas y cuando llora una mujer.
No soy de aqui ni soy de alla no tengo edad ni porvenir y ser feliz es mi color de identidad.
Me gusta el vino tanto como las flores y los conejos y los viejos pastores el pan casero y la voz de Dolores y el mar mojandome los pies.
No soy de aqui ni soy de alla no tengo edad ni porvenir y ser feliz es mi color de identidad.
Me gusta estar tirado siempre en la arena o en bicicleta perseguir a Manuela o todo el tiempo para ver las estrellas con la Maria en el trigal.
No soy de aqui ni soy de alla no tengo edad ni porvenir y ser feliz es mi color de identidad.
Let's see how I do with the translation process.
I Am Not From Here
I like the sun, Alicia, and doves A good cigar, and a Spanish guitar Jumping over walls and opening the windows And when a woman weeps.
I am not from here, nor am I from there I have no past, nor future Being happy is the color of my identity.
I like wine as much as I like flowers And rabbits as well as old shepherds Home made bread, and the voice of Dolores And the ocean, lapping at my feet.
I am not from here, nor am I from there I have no past, nor future Being happy is the color of my identity.
I like to be always laying in the sand Or riding a bicycle chasing after Manuela Or have all the time in the world to look at stars In the wheat field with Maria
I am not from here, nor am I from there I have no past, nor future Being happy is the color of my identity.
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Carpal Tunnel
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Great thread, Keiva! We should always give humor its due! And Frost, himself, was not shy of humor by the way. One of my favorite passages of his, which I often quote, is a stanza from Two Tramps in Mud Time. And in recordings of his readings I've heard he always milks this for a laugh, and gets one too! TWO TRAMPS IN MUD TIME3rd stanzaThe sun was warm but the wind was chill, You know how it is with an April day When the sun is out and the wind is still, You're one month on in the middle of May. But if you so much as dare to speak, A cloud comes over the sunlit arch, A wind comes off of a frozen peak, And you're two months back in the middle of March. And now some other tidbits: UNFORTUNATE COINCIDENCEby Dorothy Parker By the time you swear you're his, Shivering and sighing, And he vows his passion is Infinite, undying-- Lady, make a note of this: One of you is lying. ©1932 The New YorkerOn an even lighter vein: THE PURPLE COW
I never saw a Purple Cow; I never Hope to See One; But I can Tell you, Anyhow, I'd rather See than Be One.
AH, YES, I WROTE THE "PURPLE COW'
Ah, yes, I wrote the "Purple Cow" -- I'm sorry, now, I Wrote it! But I can Tell you, Anyhow, I'll Kill you if you Quote it!
both by Gelette BurgessAnd could this be a transcription of some of our discussions on the board lately? EletelephonyOnce there was an elephant, Who tried to use the telephant-- No! No! I mean an elephone Who tried to use the telephone-- (Dear me! I am not certain quite That even now I've got it right.) Howe'er it was, he got his trunk Entangled in the telephunk; The more he tried to get it free, The louder buzzed the telephee-- (I fear I'd better drop the song Of elephop and telephong!) by Laura E. Richards © 1936 by Laura E. Richards And, of course, Lewis Carrolls' Jabberwocky; Twinkle, Twinkle Little Bat; and Father William, among others. So well known to us that I don't think we need to take up thread space for them.
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Carpal Tunnel
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Thanks, Keiva, for the clarification. This is the stuff good editors are made of.
Jetting to conclusions, DubDub
PS: Still asking...Does anyone know the sump pump poem?
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Carpal Tunnel
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By the request of a certain enthusiatic entity hi Keiva I preface this with a blush-of-embarrassment-emoticon, and offer an answer to the Purple Cow credited to that late, great poet, --Anon. AFTER READING MR. BURGESS
I never saw a Purple Cow, I never hope to see one; But from the milk we're getting now, There certainly must be one.And couple more Dot Parker selections: RESUMÉRazors pain you; Rivers are damp; Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp. Guns aren't lawful; Nooses give; Gas smells awful; You might as well live. EXPERIENCESome men break your heart in two, Some men fawn and flatter, Some men never look at you; And that cleans up the matter. Dorothy Parker©1932, 1933 by The New YorkerAttention!: The bogarting light is now lit!
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Carpal Tunnel
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solely to show that I'm paying attention, Whit! , here are two on the theme of women's clothing: -------------- Upon Julia's ClothesRobert Herrick 1591 - 1674Whenas in silks my Julia goes, Then, then, methinks, how sweeetly flows The liquification of her clothes! Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free, ~O how that glittering taketh me! -------------- and a long one, best cited by url: Nothing to Wear by William Allen Butler. 1825–1902. The poem's tone suddenly veers around line 300, to make a brutally direct point crystalized in the final line. http://www.bartleby.com/102/157.html A bit from the middle will serve as a foretaste: But I do mean to say, I have heard her declare, When at the same moment she had on a dress Which cost five hundred dollars, and not a cent less, And jewelry worth ten times more, I should guess, That she had not a thing in the wide world to wear!
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old hand
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old hand
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If you of exceptional intellect finally tire of the nit-picking and the cutting up of trucks and trifles, that we, the pedestrians of the board, inflict upon your exceptional sensibilities; And so you decide to quit this board and move to a mountain cabin where you will speak only to minor gods, assorted demons, and yourself. Then please leave us , the un deserving, in style, quote this poem by Dorothy Parker...
Sanctuary
My land is bare of chattering folk; The clouds are low along the ridges, And sweet's the air with curly smoke From all my burning bridges.
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