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old hand
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old hand
Joined: Feb 2002
Posts: 833 |
The Spring and The Fall
by Edna St Vincent Millay
In the spring of the year, in the spring of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The trees were black where the bark was wet.
I see them yet, in the spring of the year.
He broke me a bough of the blossoming peach
That was out of the way and hard to reach.
In the fall of the year, in the fall of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The rooks went up with a raucous trill.
I hear them still, in the fall of the year.
He laughed at all I dared to praise,
And broke my heart, in little ways.
Year be springing or year be falling,
The bark will drip and the birds be calling.
There's much that's fine to see and hear
In the spring of a year, in the fall of a year.
'Tis not love's going hurts my days,
But that it went in little ways.
Gad, I love poetry. It says it all, don't it?
If you can't see the bright side, polish the dull side.
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Joined: Sep 2001
Posts: 6,296
Carpal Tunnel
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Carpal Tunnel
Joined: Sep 2001
Posts: 6,296 |
These are really lyrics, but what the heck. It's autumnal:
The Autumn Leaves
The falling leaves drift by the window
The autumn leaves of red and gold....
I see your lips, the summer kisses
The sunburned hands, I used to hold
Since you went away, the days grow long
And soon I'll hear ol' winter's song.
But I miss you most of all my darling,
When autumn leaves start to fall.
Since you went away, the days grow long
And soon I'll hear ol' winter's song.
But I miss you most of all my darling,
When autumn leaves start to fall.
(French Lyrics by Jacques Prévert, English Lyrics by Johnny Mercer, Music by Joseph
Kosma)
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Joined: Mar 2001
Posts: 4,189
Carpal Tunnel
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OP
Carpal Tunnel
Joined: Mar 2001
Posts: 4,189 |
(from a "weird poetry" site)
GRAVEYARD ZOMBIE
We were partying at the graveyard
like we do every Saturday night
We were partying exceptionally hard
Drinking Mad Dog and Milwaukee Light
From out in the darkness we heard
Sounds from behind a tombstone
We thought it was just some birds
But who ever heard a bird moan?
The hideous creature approached us
It was all covered in blood
I then looked at my friend Gus
He ran but fell in the mud
The monster began walking toward me
But I couldn't move an inch
There were gaping holes in it's body
And it had a terrible stench
I saw a hatchet buried in it's head
It's clothes unfashionable and torn
It not only looked like it should be dead
It looked like it should've never been born
As the horrifying creature approached
I stood as brave as a chickenshit could
It reached and grabbed me by the throat
And said,"You know I don't feel so good
I've got worms crawling out of my head
and numerous wounds on my torso
I just found out that I am dead
But what hurts even more so
Is that people still drink Old Milwaukee
It makes me grateful that I am dead
Take a tip from a graveyard zombie
Drink Molson Golden Ale instead"
Haji O'Brien
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Posts: 161
member
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Posts: 161 |
Hopefully, this is not a rude irrelevant intruding to this wonderful thread (that somehow reminded me of the film "The dead poets society"). If it is, tell me and I’ll withdraw with apologies.
There is an ad on Classic FM here in Britain. It starts from a poem describing the value of photographs in people’s lives. The first line is
Photographs are smiles that last forever
The last two lines haunt me
If you ever see my house on fire
Leave the silver, save the photographs
I would be happy if somebody can tell me who is the author of the poem.
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Joined: Sep 2001
Posts: 6,296
Carpal Tunnel
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Carpal Tunnel
Joined: Sep 2001
Posts: 6,296 |
Vika,
I just googled each of the lines, but no hits.
Wish you luck in finding the author.
WW
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Posts: 161 |
can one google poetry? i hope that this area is one where humans still do better than robots even if we are loosing in chess TA for trying anyway 
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Joined: Sep 2001
Posts: 6,296
Carpal Tunnel
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Carpal Tunnel
Joined: Sep 2001
Posts: 6,296 |
Yes, Vika, you can google lines of poetry. Let's say you're alone one night and cannot remember the author of a poem, but you distinctly remember a line from the poem. You just put the line into quotation marks in Google and, if the poem is lurking about somewhere, you'll get a hit...or lots of hits.
The two lines from your poem didn't bring up any hits on Google at least.
If you have a word out of place, that could make all the difference in getting a hit.
This method works for finding song titles, too.
Happy Googling when your human brain can benefit from the help of bots!
WW
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Joined: Mar 2001
Posts: 4,189
Carpal Tunnel
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OP
Carpal Tunnel
Joined: Mar 2001
Posts: 4,189 |
vika, the graveyard poem is just a humorous piece for fun, if that's what you're asking about. Here's a poem you might like : WINTER APPROACHES
by Boris Pasternak (1890-1960)
Winter approaches. And once again
The secret retreat of some bear
Will vanish under impassable mud
To a tearful child's despair.
Little huts will awaken in lakes
Refelcting their smoke like a path.
Encircled by autumn's cold slush,
Life-lovers will meet by the hearth.
Inhabitants of the stern North,
Whose roof is open to air,
'In this sign conquer' is written
On each inaccesible lair.
I love you, provincial retreats,
Off the map, off the road, past the farm.
The more thumbed and grubby the brook,
The greater for me its charm.
Slow lines of lumbering carts,
You spell out an alphabet leading
From meadow to meadow. Your pages
Were always my favorite reading.
And suddenly here it is written
Again, in the first snow -- the spidery
Cursive itlaic of sleigh runners --
A page like a piece of embroidery.
A silvery-haze October.
Pewter shine since the frosts began.
Autumnal twilight of Chekhov,
Tchaikovsky and Levitan.
©1943 by Boris Pasternak
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Joined: Aug 2001
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Carpal Tunnel
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Carpal Tunnel
Joined: Aug 2001
Posts: 10,535 Likes: 1 |
re: If you ever see my house on fire
Leave the silver, save the photographsI can't help much, but the folks at http://www.emule.com/poetrydo a pretty good job - you might give them a try !
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Joined: Feb 2002
Posts: 833
old hand
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old hand
Joined: Feb 2002
Posts: 833 |
And suddenly here it is written
Again, in the first snow -- the spidery
Cursive itlaic of sleigh runners --
A page like a piece of embroidery.
ahhhh....
If you can't see the bright side, polish the dull side.
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