poetry

[NeedGod]

i wanted a place where i can discuss about poetry with others. i read mostly ancient poetry but i love a good verse that leaves me satisfied

[Christian-Samurai]

float like a butter fly, sing like a bee, ??? lol

[marichino_freedom]

some poetry!.. :harhar1:
is that all you know?

i like poetry....

[JoeC]

Here's one that was really timely the first time I read it:

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening


Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it's queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

[JoeC]

courtesy of Robert Frost

[Babyruth]

I had thought so, wasn't sure until you posted the second one. I personally do not like poetry very much, only a few poems.

[marichino_freedom]

I love Frost! i love that poem, too. i think it was re-created into a Celine Dion version song

[Christian-Samurai]

I am with babyruth on this one, not big on poems, did write one but that was it lol although there is one form of poem that i do like, its called Haiku and its not just because its Japanese, the flow, form and simpleness of it :)

[NeedGod]

here is a love poem i wrote some time back for a friend of mine. he wanted to woo a girl and he didnt know how.

Mirth for the joy, of your beauty divine,
mirth to envision, your that glory of thine,
Be mine, o worship, be mine.
-namwacha

[Christian-Samurai]

hmm inlisting the help of a poet to whoo a girl lol

[NeedGod]

no way samurai, i only help those in need of help. you have wooed and won a girl already. :harhar1:

[Christian-Samurai]

ah but i didnt do it alone either :D my Heavely Father helped me, but not exactly with the whooing part lol just with the truth and honesty part :) but God does have aplan for everything so maybe he did plan the whooing part also lol all I know is I get to go see her

[NeedGod]

ok samurai. i think your case has been pled coercively enough. i will write you a poem. see, now youve gone and given me work, aaaaggghhh! :tongue:

[Christian-Samurai]

hey i didnt say to write me one lol i was just commenting on how another brother had you do it

[NeedGod]

oh, ok. still, i will write one as i have already started thinking so it would be worse if you made me stop in the middle of a thought.

[Christian-Samurai]

you are more than welcome to write one for me lol
can you write it in chinese?? lol she can have a hard time getting it if its to complex :D

[NeedGod]

o, i will write a simple one. tomorrow, you will be all poetry. now, that is the nicest thing you can ever do for a girl. but then again, who am i to give tips on what girls love, after all, i am only a girl

[marichino_freedom]

that word is so weird...
it creeps me out

woo

sounds like a train

[Christian-Samurai]

you creep me out lol :D but you look nothing like a train lol

[NeedGod]

:box: oh my goodness, did i step off my train and into a world of unromantic people. whew, help, someone woo me out of here, heeelllp

[marichino_freedom]

you creep me out more, ben!!!! with your jedi mind tricks.....

[NeedGod]

i love God so much. i wrote a poem some time back of the suffering of Jesus on the cross. it is really graphic but i will post it. i think it makes one see the picture. not just a romantic picture we get if Him hanging there sweetly. He was in pain and i brought this out in the poem. i will type it out and bring it on some time later, maybe tommorow. it doesnt have rhyme or anything, it just has the feeling of how i felt then when i thought of Him hanging there for you and me.
watch this space.

[Blood Washed Bride]

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow's form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

William Shakespeare's Sonnet 43

I adore poetry, provided it is well written and strikes a chord I can relate to. And not too long. If the poem continues past a page, I start to feel overwhelmed. Though there are exceptions to that... like The Man From Snowy River by Banjo Paterson. Shakespeare, Frost, Paterson, and Byron are among my favourites. I didn't actually think I would like Byron, but not all his works are as heavy as people led me to believe. He has some with surprising humour weaved into them. I vastly admire the way the master poets twist words to give so much more depth to their verse and provide imagery for the mind. The poem above is a key example.

[Kiki]

HAVE I DONE MY BEST FOR JESUS?

"I wonder, have I done my best for Jesus
Who died upon the cruel tree
To think of His great sacrifice at Calv'ry
I know my Lord expects the best from me.

The hours that I have wasted are so many
The hours I've spent for Christ so few
Because of all my lack of love for Jesus
I wonder if His heart is breaking too.

I wonder, have I cared enough for others
Or have I let them die alone?
I might have helped a wand'rer to the Saviour
The seed of precious Life I might have sown.

No longer will I stay within the valley
I'll climb to mountain heights above
The world is dying now for want of someone
To tell them of the Saviour's matchless love.

Ensign Edwin Young, 1895

[ancy]

I hope you all realize thzat most of those poets lived a very wordly life. Shakespeare, for example, had male and female lovers... apart from being married... And if somebody mentions Blake, I will scream

[blessed]

he did :aaaah:

[Snoopy]

My favorite poet, when it comes to his skill, is Edgar Allen Poe. Robert Frost is also incredible.

I wrote a poem a while back and wanted to put it somewhere where people could read it, but didn't really know where. I guess this would be a good place.

Weary

I saw a man who was battle scarred and weary
His eyes that they were red and bleary.
I asked him why he struggled so,
To think, and ponder, and never know.
“Wherefore do you scar your shield
And that blade that you well wield?
May you not lay down your arms
And settle for a civilian's charms?”

“What is there to do in battle but fight until it cease?”
He answered in a stalwart voice.
“Though I be tired, delinquent on life's lease
I don't see that I have much choice.”

“Why, want you not to rest for once and all,
To never see your noble comrades fall,
To ponder coolly at your captain's call
And know you owe him naught?”

“My life is fighting for my stolen land;
What would I do with peace and idle hand?
My joy is convalescing to my king,
And day and night his blessings do I sing.”

“Why then, good man are you so long downcast
And shake so easily when you are harassed?
This first I noticed as I wandered here.
I think you are much worse than you appear.”

“Because just now I'm list'ning for his call,
Too dumb to know or deaf to hear at all.
Frustrated, fighting with what weapons I retain.
Distracted, as long as you remain.”

Twas then my heart did ache with grief.
I took his battered sword and sheath,
And putting off my man's disguise,
I revealed myself before his eyes.
“My son,” I said, his body holding fast.
“I have come at last.”

[Mick_Mack89]

I like it snoop. Well done :thumbup:

I do a little poetry (Little is key here).
This something I wrote during a time when I was severly questionng what I believed.


Am I right?
Or am I wrong?
What have I learned?
Should that be overturned?

How do I think?
And is it thin?
Are my thoughts true?
Or do I follow a crew?

Is my road straight?
Or is it a string?
Do I bend and turn?
Do I, do I, when I "learn"?

Do I stand?
Or do I stumble?
What do I believe?
Am I a sieve?

Right or wrong
wrong or right
my journey of mind won't be complete...
unless I admit defeat.

(I did put this in another area on the forum, but I don't think many people saw it)

[NeedGod]

yes blessed. they did too. most were worldly. try to sieve through their poetry before you read it. some is dirty, even the classics.

[Mick_Mack89]

Oh yeah, definatly. Some of Whitman's stuff is just like, "WOW"

[morning_mist]

Edgar Allan Poe wrote poems under the influence of alcohol

[Snoopy]

I know... it's unfortunate. All though he writes better poetry while drunk than I do when I'm sober, so that says something. I'm not sure what. I probably just insulted myself.

[NeedGod]

yeah snoopy, i think you just did. :rofl: anyhow, has anyone of you read 'alone'. i think part if it is so for the bride in this age. we are alone in this world and we love the things we love alone, the rest think we are insane. i love the first part of this poem. and where it said, there is a mystery which binds me still, i want to shout AMEN


FROM childhood's hour I have not been

As others were — I have not seen

As others saw — I could not bring

My passions from a common spring.

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow; I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone;

And all I lov'd, I lov'd alone.

Then — in my childhood — in the dawn

Of a most stormy life — was drawn

From ev'ry depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still:

[NeedGod]

Seven Ages Of Man
by William Shakespeare
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players,
They have their exits and entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then, the whining schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden, and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice
In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws, and modern instances,
And so he plays his part.