JohnM Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 Given its cropped up on the EU thread, why not move the poetic references under one heading free from Rebrexitmainlining? I, like CKN didn't get poetry at school, though that might be because I went to a technical school and we didn't do English Literature. It was all maths, phyisics, chemistry, engineering drawing and afvanced level bullying. However, maybe thanks to University Challenge, some excellent BBC Four historical progs and of course Wikipedia, I have become acquainted with some really evocative stuff, for example Ozymandias. Having a go at Khubla KHan, too. Anyone else any pointers? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bearman Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 It can be tricky finding something to rhyme with Australia in Limericks There was a young man from Australia, Who painted his asre like a Dahlia At 5p per smell, He did quite well But, 10p a lick was a failure Ron Banks Midlands Hurricanes and Barrow Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyXIII Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 My all-time favourite is (are) The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, as rendered into English by Edward Fitzgerald. It is a philosophical masterpiece in which he considers the human condition and questions the existence of God. One well-known verse is: The moving finger writes and, having writ, Moves on; nor all thy piety nor wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a line Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it. (NB. The is/are thing is because 'rubaiya' is the arabic for 'verse' and 'rubaiyat' is the plural. At least afaik) When he starts to compare God to a potter, he really lays into God. "Did the hand of the potter shake?" If you want more, just ask. Rethymno Rugby League Appreciation Society Founder (and, so far, only) member. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyXIII Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 12 minutes ago, Bearman said: It can be tricky finding something to rhyme with Australia in Limericks There was a young man from Australia, Who painted his asre like a Dahlia At 5p per smell, He did quite well But, 10p a lick was a failure I like limericks. Try these: There was a young woman from Thrace Whose corsets no longer would lace Her mother said "Nelly, There's more in your belly Than ever went in through your face. Or: The sermon our pastor rt. rev. Began might have had a rt. clev. But his talk though consistent Kept the end so far distant That we left since we thought he mt. nev. It requires a bit of thought. "rt. rev." means "right reverend". Try that with the rest. Rethymno Rugby League Appreciation Society Founder (and, so far, only) member. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CanaBull Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 My favourite is The Odyssey, I go through that at least once a year, which often feeds into Treasure Island. There’s a well thumbed copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh in my bookcase also. As much as the ancient stories hold my interest I can pin the moment where I started being more into poetry to when we as a class of middle school yobs went to see Roger McGough and it seemed all, teachers and kids alike connected to ‘The Lesson’: Chaos ruled OK in the classroom as bravely the teacher walked in the nooligans ignored him his voice was lost in the din 'The theme for today is violence and homework will be set I'm going to teach you a lesson one that you'll never forget' He picked on a boy who was shouting and throttled him then and there then garrotted the girl behind him (the one with grotty hair) Then sword in hand he hacked his way between the chattering rows 'First come, first severed' he declared 'fingers, feet or toes' He threw the sword at a latecomer it struck with deadly aim then pulling out a shotgun he continued with his game The first blast cleared the backrow (where those who skive hang out) they collapsed like rubber dinghies when the plug's pulled out 'Please may I leave the room sir? ' a trembling vandal enquired 'Of course you may' said teacher put the gun to his temple and fired The Head popped a head round the doorway to see why a din was being made nodded understandingly then tossed in a grenade And when the ammo was well spent with blood on every chair Silence shuffled forward with its hands up in the air The teacher surveyed the carnage the dying and the dead He waggled a finger severely 'Now let that be a lesson' he said Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Exiled Townie Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 35 minutes ago, tonyXIII said: My all-time favourite is (are) The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, Or, as Benny Hill called it, The Rubber Yacht Of Hymie Cohen … Jam Eater 1.(noun. jam eeter) A Resident of Whitehaven or Workington. Offensive. It is now a term of abuse that both towns of West Cumbria use for each other especially at Workington/Whitehaven rugby league derby matches. St Albans Centurions Website Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wiltshire Warrior Dragon Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 In these days of YouTube and the like, JohnM, it is worth remembering that you don't have to read poetry yourself; you can have it read to you. If the reader is the poet himself, than arguably so much the better. Dylan Thomas's Do not go gentle into that good night is a fine poem; read by Thomas himself it is stunning! I enjoyed some WB Yeats which I studied at school, including Easter, 1916. Incidentally, if, like me, you think that Brass was one of the funniest (and arguably most underrated) comedy series ever on British TV - with Timothy West as the unscrupulous, northern town, coal and textile baron - you will have enjoyed some of the subtle jokes in it (I, no doubt, missed more than I spotted) At one point, Hardaker, who has radical, money-making plans for his town, which is called Utterley, looks with satisfaction across its skyline and says, if I remember correctly, "all is changed, changed in utterly; a terrible beauty is born" and smirks crudely. This is a parody of lines in Easter, 1916. John Masefield has some wonderfully descriptive moments, as in Sea fever and Cargoes. In his long poem, The everlasting mercy, he evidently rather shocked early 20th century society, with his frank use of English as he heard it spoken in rural Herefordshire. The hero of the piece, in a rage about a farmer who, he feels, as acted badly towards him, says, "And one of these dark winter nights, he'll learn I mean to have my rights. I'll bl**dy him a-bl**dy-fix, I'll bl**dy burn his bl**by ricks." Contemporary society would have recognised rick-burning as a traditional form of revenge in rural disputes (along with cattle maiming), but would no doubt have been a bit shocked by the dialogue here about it! I studied some of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales at school. That is a very good example of poetry that is easier to understand if listened to, rather than read, I think. Hope that is of interest! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tim2 Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 I've got a poetry pamphlet coming out this year. There, I admitted it. I am a poet. My top 10 dead poets 10 Philip Larkin 9 Dylan Thomas 8 William Worsworth 7 Percy Bysshe Shelley 6 John Clare 5 Seamus Heaney 4 William Blake 3 W H Auden 2 Charles Causley 1 Wilfred Owen If we're going to quote Shelley, I would go for The Masque of Anarchy ("we are many, they are few") or my favourite seditious sonnet, England 1819 An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying King; Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow Through public scorn,—mud from a muddy spring; Rulers who neither see nor feel nor know, But leechlike to their fainting country cling Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow. A people starved and stabbed in th' untilled field; An army, whom liberticide and prey Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield; Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay; Religion Christless, Godless—a book sealed; A senate, Time’s worst statute, unrepealed— Are graves from which a glorious Phantom may Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day "I am the avenging angel; I come with wings unfurled, I come with claws extended from halfway round the world. I am the God Almighty, I am the howling wind. I care not for your family; I care not for your kin. I come in search of terror, though terror is my own; I come in search of vengeance for crimes and crimes unknown. I care not for your children, I care not for your wives, I care not for your country, I care not for your lives." - (c) Jim Boyes - "The Avenging Angel" Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tim2 Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 1 minute ago, Wiltshire Warrior Dragon said: In these days of YouTube and the like, JohnM, it is worth remembering that you don't have to read poetry yourself; you can have it read to you. If the reader is the poet himself, than arguably so much the better. Dylan Thomas's Do not go gentle into that good night is a fine poem; read by Thomas himself it is stunning! I enjoyed some WB Yeats which I studied at school, including Easter, 1916. Richard Burton's reading is better IMO. Yeats missed the cut of my top 10, as did Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou. "I am the avenging angel; I come with wings unfurled, I come with claws extended from halfway round the world. I am the God Almighty, I am the howling wind. I care not for your family; I care not for your kin. I come in search of terror, though terror is my own; I come in search of vengeance for crimes and crimes unknown. I care not for your children, I care not for your wives, I care not for your country, I care not for your lives." - (c) Jim Boyes - "The Avenging Angel" Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wiltshire Warrior Dragon Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 7 minutes ago, tim2 said: Richard Burton's reading is better IMO. Yeats missed the cut of my top 10, as did Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou. Burton or Thomas is a close run thing, for sure! I love Richard Burton as the narrator in Dylan Thomas's Under Milkwood. Was Betjeman near your top ten? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Phil Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 “The Negro Speaks of Rivers” by Langston Hughes I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins. My soul has grown deep like the rivers. I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young. I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep. I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it. I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset. I’ve known rivers: Ancient, dusky rivers. My soul has grown deep like the rivers. "Freedom without socialism is privilege and injustice, socialism without freedom is slavery and brutality" - Mikhail Bakunin Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kayakman Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 1 hour ago, CanaBull said: My favourite is The Odyssey, I go through that at least once a year, which often feeds into Treasure Island. There’s a well thumbed copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh in my bookcase also. As much as the ancient stories hold my interest I can pin the moment where I started being more into poetry to when we as a class of middle school yobs went to see Roger McGough and it seemed all, teachers and kids alike connected to ‘The Lesson’: Chaos ruled OK in the classroom as bravely the teacher walked in the nooligans ignored him his voice was lost in the din 'The theme for today is violence and homework will be set I'm going to teach you a lesson one that you'll never forget' He picked on a boy who was shouting and throttled him then and there then garrotted the girl behind him (the one with grotty hair) Then sword in hand he hacked his way between the chattering rows 'First come, first severed' he declared 'fingers, feet or toes' He threw the sword at a latecomer it struck with deadly aim then pulling out a shotgun he continued with his game The first blast cleared the backrow (where those who skive hang out) they collapsed like rubber dinghies when the plug's pulled out 'Please may I leave the room sir? ' a trembling vandal enquired 'Of course you may' said teacher put the gun to his temple and fired The Head popped a head round the doorway to see why a din was being made nodded understandingly then tossed in a grenade And when the ammo was well spent with blood on every chair Silence shuffled forward with its hands up in the air The teacher surveyed the carnage the dying and the dead He waggled a finger severely 'Now let that be a lesson' he said I'm getting more and more worried about you as time moves forward Canabull...I also like the Odyssey and Gilgamesh and Treasure Island...et al. The poem you have highlighted here is a cracker. Every teachers delight! I love the poetry of Wordsworth...I really do. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Phil Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 Dulce et Decorum est BY WILFRED OWEN Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of gas-shells dropping softly behind. Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time, But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.— Dim through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori. "Freedom without socialism is privilege and injustice, socialism without freedom is slavery and brutality" - Mikhail Bakunin Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kayakman Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 18 minutes ago, tim2 said: Richard Burton's reading is better IMO. Yeats missed the cut of my top 10, as did Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou. Yeats is certainly top 10! Like come on! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kayakman Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 Just now, Phil said: Dulce et Decorum est BY WILFRED OWEN Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of gas-shells dropping softly behind. Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time, But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.— Dim through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori. I know this one off by heart...I recite it often to a large group, just before every Nov.11. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Phil Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 2 hours ago, JohnM said: Given its cropped up on the EU thread, why not move the poetic references under one heading free from Rebrexitmainlining? I, like CKN didn't get poetry at school, though that might be because I went to a technical school and we didn't do English Literature. It was all maths, phyisics, chemistry, engineering drawing and afvanced level bullying. However, maybe thanks to University Challenge, some excellent BBC Four historical progs and of course Wikipedia, I have become acquainted with some really evocative stuff, for example Ozymandias. Having a go at Khubla KHan, too. Anyone else any pointers? Great thread John, thank you "Freedom without socialism is privilege and injustice, socialism without freedom is slavery and brutality" - Mikhail Bakunin Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ckn Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 3 hours ago, JohnM said: Given its cropped up on the EU thread, why not move the poetic references under one heading free from Rebrexitmainlining? I, like CKN didn't get poetry at school, though that might be because I went to a technical school and we didn't do English Literature. It was all maths, phyisics, chemistry, engineering drawing and afvanced level bullying. However, maybe thanks to University Challenge, some excellent BBC Four historical progs and of course Wikipedia, I have become acquainted with some really evocative stuff, for example Ozymandias. Having a go at Khubla KHan, too. Anyone else any pointers? The high school I went to was a proper old comprehensive with selective element as it was the only school that did Highers in the area, if you were assessed at primary school as likely to go onto do highers then that’s where you went rather than the mining village high schools that stopped at O-Grades. We were extraordinarily lucky that that school attracted the better teachers. I struggled badly with English as it was just too slow for me, “read pages 10-20 for next week” when I’d already finished the book. If you’re after a place to sate your short literary desires in another media then this site has impressed me for the last few years. The author has slowed down his pace now he’s off doing other stuff but there’s plenty of poems he’s illustrated and it helps bring them to life. Quite a bit of the site is just quotes but there’s a good few poems done there, I’d recommend just going through from the start but the drop-down list top-centre gives you freedom to pick & choose. "When in deadly danger, when beset by doubt; run in little circles, wave your arms and shout" Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
JohnM Posted February 9, 2019 Author Share Posted February 9, 2019 Thanks, phil. Ckn. Roger McGough The Lesson is great, but less endearing is (was) Poetry Please , Saturday night, Radio 4, 11.30 which to be honest put me off. Once read "Ode", Arthur O'Shaunghnessy, "We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams......" Just revisiting the Penguin Book of Irish Verse ( very largely unread, of course and might remain so) Must look at William Blake, too. Just watched the 1991Wigan season review video. Edwards, Gregory, Hanley, Lydon, Bell, Hampson, Preston, Myers and more. True poetry in motion. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Phil Posted February 9, 2019 Share Posted February 9, 2019 Hic Jacet Arthurus Rex Quondam Rexque Futurus Francis Brett Young Arthur is gone…Tristram in Careol Sleeps, with a broken sword - and Yseult sleeps Beside him, where the Westering waters roll Over drowned Lyonesse to the outer deeps. Lancelot is fallen . . . The ardent helms that shone So knightly and the splintered lances rust In the anonymous mould of Avalon: Gawain and Gareth and Galahad - all are dust. Where do the vanes and towers of Camelot And tall Tintagel crumble? Where do those tragic Lovers and their bright eyed ladies rot? We cannot tell, for lost is Merlin's magic. And Guinevere - Call her not back again Lest she betray the loveliness time lent A name that blends the rapture and the pain Linked in the lonely nightingale's lament. Nor pry too deeply, lest you should discover The bower of Astolat a smokey hut Of mud and wattle - find the knightliest lover A braggart, and his lilymaid a slut. And all that coloured tale a tapestry Woven by poets. As the spider's skeins Are spun of its own substance, so have they Embroidered empty legend - What remains? This: That when Rome fell, like a writhen oak That age had sapped and cankered at the root, Resistant, from her topmost bough there broke The miracle of one unwithering shoot. Which was the spirit of Britain - that certain men Uncouth, untutored, of our island brood Loved freedom better than their lives; and when The tempest crashed around them, rose and stood And charged into the storm's black heart, with sword Lifted, or lance in rest, and rode there, helmed With a strange majesty that the heathen horde Remembered when all were overwhelmed; And made of them a legend, to their chief, Arthur, Ambrosius - no man knows his name - Granting a gallantry beyond belief, And to his knights imperishable fame. They were so few . . . We know not in what manner Or where they fell - whether they went Riding into the dark under Christ's banner Or died beneath the blood-red dragon of Gwent. But this we know; that when the Saxon rout Swept over them, the sun no longer shone On Britain, and the last lights flickered out; And men in darkness muttered: Arthur is gone… "Freedom without socialism is privilege and injustice, socialism without freedom is slavery and brutality" - Mikhail Bakunin Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wiltshire Rhino Posted February 10, 2019 Share Posted February 10, 2019 My favourite poet - Mr Robert Zimmerman Come gather 'round people Wherever you roam And admit that the waters Around you have grown And accept it that soon You'll be drenched to the bone. If your time to you Is worth savin' Then you better start swimmin' Or you'll sink like a stone For the times they are a-changin'. Come writers and critics Who prophesize with your pen And keep your eyes wide The chance won't come again And don't speak too soon For the wheel's still in spin And there's no tellin' who That it's namin'. For the loser now Will be later to win For the times they are a-changin'. Come senators, congressmen Please heed the call Don't stand in the doorway Don't block up the hall For he that gets hurt Will be he who has stalled There's a battle outside And it is ragin'. It'll soon shake your windows And rattle your walls For the times they are a-changin'. Come mothers and fathers Throughout the land And don't criticize What you can't understand Your sons and your daughters Are beyond your command Your old road is Rapidly agin'. Please get out of the new one If you can't lend your hand For the times they are a-changin'. The line it is drawn The curse it is cast The slow one now Will later be fast As the present now Will later be past The order is Rapidly fadin'. And the first one now Will later be last For the times they are a-changin'. 2014 Challenged Cup Winner Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CanaBull Posted February 10, 2019 Share Posted February 10, 2019 Came across this in my late teens, it’s hovered behind my shoulder just barely in earshot for the last 25 years. Emptiness, by Spike Milligan I've learned mine can't be filled, only alchemized. Many times it's become a paragraph or a page. But usually I've hidden it, not knowing until too late how enormous it grows in its dark. Or how obvious it gets when I've donned, say, my good cordovans and my fine tweed vest and walked into a room with a smile. I might as well have been a man with a fez and a faux silver cane. Better, I know now, to dress it plain, to say out loud to some right person in some right place that there's something not there in me, something I can't name. That some right person has just lit a fire under the kettle. She hasn't said a word. Beneath her blue shawl she, too, conceals a world. But she's been amazed how much I seem to need my emptiness, amazed I won't let it go. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Niels Posted February 10, 2019 Share Posted February 10, 2019 2 hours ago, JohnM said: Thanks, phil. Ckn. Roger McGough The Lesson is great, but less endearing is (was) Poetry Please , Saturday night, Radio 4, 11.30 which to be honest put me off. Once read "Ode", Arthur O'Shaunghnessy, "We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams......" Just revisiting the Penguin Book of Irish Verse ( very largely unread, of course and might remain so) Must look at William Blake, too. Just watched the 1991Wigan season review video. Edwards, Gregory, Hanley, Lydon, Bell, Hampson, Preston, Myers and more. True poetry in motion. I liked Roger McGough in the Scaffold. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CanaBull Posted February 10, 2019 Share Posted February 10, 2019 McGough was more of a conduit really. These upper class romantics and university arts educated sorts didn’t really have much in common with rough northern comprehensive kids; he and others like the Liverpool Poets made it more accessible and not so out of reach. Certainly made me confront some of my early prejudices, as poetry can so often do. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tim2 Posted February 10, 2019 Share Posted February 10, 2019 5 hours ago, Wiltshire Warrior Dragon said: Burton or Thomas is a close run thing, for sure! I love Richard Burton as the narrator in Dylan Thomas's Under Milkwood. Was Betjeman near your top ten? No "I am the avenging angel; I come with wings unfurled, I come with claws extended from halfway round the world. I am the God Almighty, I am the howling wind. I care not for your family; I care not for your kin. I come in search of terror, though terror is my own; I come in search of vengeance for crimes and crimes unknown. I care not for your children, I care not for your wives, I care not for your country, I care not for your lives." - (c) Jim Boyes - "The Avenging Angel" Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tim2 Posted February 10, 2019 Share Posted February 10, 2019 5 hours ago, Kayakman said: I know this one off by heart...I recite it often to a large group, just before every Nov.11. Me too. I also know "Anthem for Doomed Youth" and "Futility". I throw in Siegfried Sassoon's "The General" too. “Good-morning, good-morning!” the General said When we met him last week on our way to the line. Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of 'em dead, And we're cursing his staff for incompetent swine. “He's a cheery old card,” grunted Harry to Jack As they slogged up to Arras with rifle and pack. But he did for them both by his plan of attack. "I am the avenging angel; I come with wings unfurled, I come with claws extended from halfway round the world. I am the God Almighty, I am the howling wind. I care not for your family; I care not for your kin. I come in search of terror, though terror is my own; I come in search of vengeance for crimes and crimes unknown. I care not for your children, I care not for your wives, I care not for your country, I care not for your lives." - (c) Jim Boyes - "The Avenging Angel" Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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