' Live-Poets Society ' – A Corner For Poetry

[northie]

Thanks for posting your choice of poem, Tim. I read it and then read Parker's comments. Interestingly, I found it less 'personal' with the 'never-failing friends' being books which can be a profound source of comfort, knowledge and inspiration and which contain the essence of those who went before him and whom he wishes to join in due course.

[dughlas]

I too feel more the way Northie does. The written word remains with us even though the writer may have long ago left us.

[Emi GS]

Found this today.. I like so I thought I'd share...

 

 

My Days among the Dead are Past

by Robert Southey

 

My days among the Dead are past;

Around me I behold,

Where'er these casual eyes are cast,

The mighty minds of old;

My never-failing friends are they,

With whom I converse day by day.

 

With them I take delight in weal,

And seek relief in woe;

And while I understand and feel

How much to them I owe,

My cheeks have often been bedew'd

With tears of thoughtful gratitude.

 

My thoughts are with the Dead, with them

I live in long-past years,

Their virtues love, their faults condemn,

Partake their hopes and fears,

And from their lessons seek and find

Instruction with an humble mind.

 

My hopes are with the Dead, anon

My place with them will be,

And I with them shall travel on

Through all Futurity;

Yet leaving here a name, I trust,

That will not perish in the dust.

That was a wonderful poem. To recall those, who passed in front of us and recalling how they meant for us as well as(I think there is a line about) waiting to meet them future, after our lives. Such a grand appearance. I Loved it.

[Parker Owens]

With deep thanks to Tim,  AC and Gary, I posted two new light summer poems in Occasional Poetry. Read them with someone effervescent.  https://www.gayauthors.org/story/parker-owens/occasionalpoetry/35

[J.HunterDunn]

Tomorrow starts Amsterdam Gay Pride/Europride 2016, which seems a good reason to share a bit of Dutch poetry with you.

 

In Amsterdam -amongst other things- you'll find the "Homomonument" : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homomonument

 

As is related in the Wiki information, in the monument is engraved part of a poem by the Dutch poet Jacob Israël de Haan (1881-1924) and when talking about this poet with AC a while ago I promised to share the Dutch text here, with a translation I made.

 

I hope you'll enjoy it.

 

Aan eenen jongen visscher (1917)

 

Rozen zijn niet zoo schoon als uwe wangen,
Tulpen niet als uw bloote voeten teer,
En in geen oogen las ik immer meer
Naar vriendschap zulk een mateloos verlangen.

 

Achter ons was de eeuwigheid van de zee,
Boven ons bleekte grijs de eeuwige lucht,
Aan ‘t eenzaam strand dwaalden alleen wij twee,
Er was geen ander dan het zeegerucht.

 

Laatste dag samen, ik ging naar mijn Stad.
Gij vaart en vischt tevreden, ik dwaal rond|
En vind in stad noch stiller landstreek wijk.

Ik ben zóo moede, ik heb veel liefgehad.

 

Vergeef mij veel, vraag niet wat ik weerstond
En bid dat ik nooit voor uw schoon bezwijk.

 

 

To a young fisherman

 

Roses are not as beautiful as your cheeks,

Tulips not as your bare tender feet,

And in no one's eyes I ever read more

For friendship such a longing without measure.

 

Behind us was the eternity of the sea,

Above us paled grey the eternal sky,

At the lonely beach just the two of us wandered,

There was no other sounds than that of the sea.

 

Last day together, I went to my Town.

You sail and fish contently, I roam around

And find refuge in town nor country.

I am so tired, I loved so much.

 

Forgive me much, don't ask me what I resisted

And pray that I will never give in to your beauty.

　

[dughlas]

Thanks for sharing this.

[Valkyrie]

I just posted two new poems.  One is the piece that didn't make the anthology, and the second is inspired by the severe drought my area is currently experiencing.  

 

https://www.gayauthors.org/story/valkyrie/aprilmusings/7

[Emi GS]

Tomorrow starts Amsterdam Gay Pride/Europride 2016, which seems a good reason to share a bit of Dutch poetry with you.

 

In Amsterdam -amongst other things- you'll find the "Homomonument" : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homomonument

 

As is related in the Wiki information, in the monument is engraved part of a poem by the Dutch poet Jacob Israël de Haan (1881-1924) and when talking about this poet with AC a while ago I promised to share the Dutch text here, with a translation I made.

 

I hope you'll enjoy it.

 

Aan eenen jongen visscher (1917)

 

Rozen zijn niet zoo schoon als uwe wangen,

Tulpen niet als uw bloote voeten teer,

En in geen oogen las ik immer meer

Naar vriendschap zulk een mateloos verlangen.

 

Achter ons was de eeuwigheid van de zee,

Boven ons bleekte grijs de eeuwige lucht,

Aan ‘t eenzaam strand dwaalden alleen wij twee,

Er was geen ander dan het zeegerucht.

 

Laatste dag samen, ik ging naar mijn Stad.

Gij vaart en vischt tevreden, ik dwaal rond|

En vind in stad noch stiller landstreek wijk.

Ik ben zóo moede, ik heb veel liefgehad.

 

Vergeef mij veel, vraag niet wat ik weerstond

En bid dat ik nooit voor uw schoon bezwijk.

 

 

To a young fisherman

 

Roses are not as beautiful as your cheeks,

Tulips not as your bare tender feet,

And in no one's eyes I ever read more

For friendship such a longing without measure.

 

Behind us was the eternity of the sea,

Above us paled grey the eternal sky,

At the lonely beach just the two of us wandered,

There was no other sounds than that of the sea.

 

Last day together, I went to my Town.

You sail and fish contently, I roam around

And find refuge in town nor country.

I am so tired, I loved so much.

 

Forgive me much, don't ask me what I resisted

And pray that I will never give in to your beauty.

　

 

Such an enchanting poem It just hypnotized me from the first line itself. Given such a worm feeling even though there is some(very little) sadness lurking in the poem. Lovely. Thanks for sharing it. Sorry out of likes, but will be back soon...

[Emi GS]

I just posted two new poems. One is the piece that didn't make the anthology, and the second is inspired by the severe drought my area is currently experiencing.

 

https://www.gayauthors.org/story/valkyrie/aprilmusings/7

Read and Reviewed...

[AC Benus]

I don't have a favorite poet, but I love Joachim Ringelnatz and especially Heinrich Heine. Here is an example of Heine's art. I copied this from wikipedia :

 

Allnächtlich im Traume seh ich dich,

Und sehe dich freundlich grüßen,

Und lautaufweinend stürz ich mich

Zu deinen süßen Füßen .

 

Du siehst mich an wehmütiglich,

Und schüttelst das blonde Köpfchen;

Aus deinen Augen schleichen sich

Die Perlentränentröpfchen.

 

Du sagst mir heimlich ein leises Wort,

Und gibst mir den Strauß von Zypressen.

Ich wache auf, und der Strauß ist fort,

Und das Wort hab ich vergessen.

(non-literal translation in verse by Hal Draper:)

 

Nightly I see you in dreams-you speak,

With kindliness sincerest,

I throw myself, weeping aloud and weak

At your sweet feet, my dearest.

 

You look at me with wistful woe,

And shake your golden curls;

And stealing from your eyes there flow

The teardrops like to pearls.

 

You breathe in my ear a secret word,

A garland of cypress for token.

I wake; it is gone; the dream is blurred,

And forgotten the word that was spoken.

Reading this again this morning, I am struck by how much 'ground' the poet covers in three short strophes. Also, the reality of waking up and the losing of the 'idea' - the beloved - is so beautiful to me. Nowadays I seem to wake each and every morning feeling I've worked all night in my sleep, but like a burst soap bubble open my eyes to find not a word has been written down. 

 

 

Thanks for posting this. I love to learn.  

Edited July 24, 2016 by AC Benus

[AC Benus]

I first knew it from Britten's choral setting in Rejoice in the lamb. It is C18 free verse - just, nobody knew about it ... 

Gosh, I was curious, so looked it up. I see you omited to mention that Rejoice in the Lamb is also a Smart text! OMG, and even his cat features prominently here.  

 

 

Rejoice in the Lamb

by Christopher Smart

 

Rejoice in God, O ye Tongues;

Give the glory to the Lord,

And the Lamb.

Nations, and languages,

And every Creature

In which is the breath of Life.

Let man and beast appear before him,

And magnify his name together.

 

Let Nimrod, the mighty hunter,

Bind a leopard to the altar

And consecrate his spear to the Lord.

 

Let Ishmail dedicate a tyger,

And give praise for the liberty

In which the Lord has let him at large.

 

Let Balaam appear with an ass,

And bless the Lord his people

And his creatures for a reward eternal.

 

Let Daniel come forth with a lion,

And praise God with all his might

Through faith in Christ Jesus.

 

Let Ithamar minister with a chamois,

And bless the name of Him

That cloatheth the naked.

 

Let Jakim with the satyr

Bless God in the dance,

Dance, dance, dance.

 

Let David bless with the bear

The beginning of victory to the Lord,

To the Lord the perfection of excellence.

 

Hallelujah, hallelujah,

Hallelujah for the heart of God,

And from the hand of the artist inimitable,

And from the echo of the heavenly harp

In sweetness magnifical and mighty.

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah.

For I will consider my cat Jeoffry.

For he is the servant of the living God.

Duly and daily serving him.

 

For at the first glance

Of the glory of God in the East

He worships in his way.

For this is done by wreathing his body

Seven times round with elegant quickness.

For he knows that God is his saviour.

For God has bless'd him

In the variety of his movements.

For there is nothing sweeter

Than his peace when at rest.

 

For I am possessed of a cat,

Surpassing in beauty,

From whom I take occasion

To bless Almighty God.

 

For the Mouse is a creature

Of great personal valour.

For this is a true case--

Cat takes female mouse,

Male mouse will not depart,

but stands threat'ning and daring.

If you will let her go,

I will engage you,

As prodigious a creature as you are.

 

For the Mouse is a creature

Of great personal valour.

For the Mouse is of

An hospitable disposition.

 

For the flowers are great blessings.

For the flowers are great blessings.

For the flowers have their angels,

Even the words of God's creation.

For the flower glorifies God

And the root parries the adversary.

For there is a language of flowers.

For the flowers are peculiarly

The poetry of Christ.

 

For I am under the same accusation

With my Savior,

For they said,

He is besides himself.

For the officers of the peace

Are at variance with me,

And the watchman smites me

With his staff.

For the silly fellow, silly fellow,

Is against me,

And belongeth neither to me

Nor to my family.

For I am in twelve hardships,

But he that was born of a virgin

Shall deliver me out of all,

Shall deliver me out of all.

 

For H is a spirit

And therefore he is God.

For K is king

And therefore he is God.

For L is love

And therefore he is God.

For M is musick

And therefore he is God.

And therefore he is God.

 

For the instruments are by their rhimes,

For the shawm rhimes are lawn fawn and the like.

For the shawm rhimes are moon boon and the like.

For the harp rhimes are sing ring and the like.

For the harp rhimes are ring string and the like.

For the cymbal rhimes are bell well and the like.

For the cymbal rhimes are toll soul and the like.

For the flute rhimes are tooth youth and the like.

For the flute rhimes are suit mute and the like.

For the bassoon rhimes are pass class and the like.

For the dulcimer rhimes are grace place and the like.

For the clarinet rhimes are clean seen and the like.

For the trumpet rhimes are sound bound and the like.

 

For the trumpet of God is a blessed intelligence

And so are all the instruments in Heav'n.

For God the Father Almighty plays upon the harp

Of stupendous magnitude and melody.

For at that time malignity ceases

And the devils themselves are at peace.

For this time is perceptible to man

By a remarkable stillness and serenity of soul.

 

Hallelujah, hallelujah,

Hallelujah for the heart of God,

And from the hand of the artist inimitable,

And from the echo of the heavenly harp

In sweetness magnifical and mighty.

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah.

Edited July 24, 2016 by AC Benus

[AC Benus]

I know I'm only meant to be observing but I'm watching a fascinating BBC 4 programme about the battle of the Somme and the poets who were involved. A couple of people mentioned I've not come across before. This poem, I feel I want to share with you:

 

BEFORE ACTION  

 

By all the glories of the day

And the cool evening’s benison,

By that last sunset touch that lay

Upon the hills when day was done,

By beauty lavishly outpoured

And blessings carelessly received,

By all the days that I have lived

Make me a soldier, Lord.

 

By all of all man’s hopes and fears,

And all the wonders poets sing,

The laughter of unclouded years,

And every sad and lovely thing;

By the romantic ages stored

With high endeavour that was his,

By all his mad catastrophes

Make me a man, O Lord.

 

I, that on my familiar hill,

Saw with uncomprehending eyes

A hundred of thy sunsets spill

Their fresh and sanguine sacrifice,

Ere the sun swings his noonday sword

Must say good-bye to all of this;–

By all delights that I shall miss

Help me to die, O Lord.

 

Poem by Noel Hodgson who was killed at the start of the battle of the Somme.

The concluding line of each strophe builds in intensity. It's interesting to try and 'figure out' how and why I feel this way. I believe it's because the further the poem goes, the closer I feel to the poet himself, thus when he ends with a simple entreaty for God to help him, it breaks my heart. 

 

Thanks for posting this amazing work. I feel I've learned a valuable lesson in form today.     

[AC Benus]

All of us are precious stones,

so I feel it in my bones,

let our praises now be sung,

all in rhyme, our native tongue.

Fit lyrics for a fugato if there ever were any. It only lacks an 'amen' at the end.

[northie]

Rejoice in the Lamb. It's been ages since I've been a choral singer but I can still remember singing this amazing text although I only remembered bits until you very kindly refreshed my memory.  You can just sense the words pouring out of him, sometimes with an almost manic frenzy. I'd forgotten the section about the instruments and their 'rhimes' but reading it immediately brings back Britten's wonderful setting. 

 

Smart's work must have only been recently rediscovered when Britten decided to set it.

[northie]

The concluding line of each strophe builds in intensity. It's interesting to try and 'figure out' how and why I feel this way. I believe it's because the further the poem goes, the closer I feel to the poet himself, thus when he ends with a simple entreaty for God to help him, it breaks my heart. 

 

Thanks for posting this amazing work. I feel I've learned a valuable lesson in form today.     

 

From what I can remember of the TV commentary, Hodgson realised that where his regiment was situated it was unlikely that many people would live to see end of the following day, the day he indeed died. It does make the end of the poem hard to bear.

[AC Benus]

 

I'm sorry to say that you only have yourselves to blame that I'm inflicting another of my poetry choices on you - finding people with whom I can talk about poetry (in however an amateur fashion ) has rekindled my interest.  That, and it's too hot again to be doing much else ...

 

I like Alexander Pope although I find his writing quite hard work. This is a section of Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot which had me grinning ...

 

No place is sacred, not the church is free; 

Ev'n Sunday shines no Sabbath-day to me: 

Then from the Mint walks forth the man of rhyme, 

Happy! to catch me just at dinner-time. 

 

       Is there a parson, much bemus'd in beer, 

A maudlin poetess, a rhyming peer, 

A clerk, foredoom'd his father's soul to cross, 

Who pens a stanza, when he should engross? 

Is there, who, lock'd from ink and paper, scrawls 

With desp'rate charcoal round his darken'd walls? 

All fly to Twit'nam, and in humble strain 

Apply to me, to keep them mad or vain. 

Arthur, whose giddy son neglects the laws, 

Imputes to me and my damn'd works the cause: 

Poor Cornus sees his frantic wife elope, 

And curses wit, and poetry, and Pope. 

 

       Friend to my life! (which did not you prolong, 

The world had wanted many an idle song) 

What drop or nostrum can this plague remove? 

Or which must end me, a fool's wrath or love? 

A dire dilemma! either way I'm sped, 

If foes, they write, if friends, they read me dead. 

Seiz'd and tied down to judge, how wretched I! 

Who can't be silent, and who will not lie; 

To laugh, were want of goodness and of grace, 

And to be grave, exceeds all pow'r of face. 

I sit with sad civility, I read 

With honest anguish, and an aching head; 

And drop at last, but in unwilling ears, 

This saving counsel, "Keep your piece nine years." 

 

       "Nine years!" cries he, who high in Drury-lane 

Lull'd by soft zephyrs through the broken pane, 

Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before Term ends, 

Oblig'd by hunger, and request of friends: 

"The piece, you think, is incorrect: why, take it, 

I'm all submission, what you'd have it, make it." 

 

[The Mint was a sanctuary for debtors.]

 

Here's the link for anyone feeling strong:   http://www.poetryfoundation.org/resources/learning/core-poems/detail/44895

It's one of Pope's shorter offerings but still quite long!

 

Part of the reason for the split - debtors' prison; it's fascinating to learn one could seek the equivalent of church sanctuary in the Mint for threat of debt arrest. Either the place was packed to the gills, or only the 'wealthy' could buy their way in the first place. I assume the latter is the correct scenario.

 

Incidentally, I do so love the jail chapters from the Pickwick Papers. Mr. Pickwick is in prison because he refuses to marry a woman, and naturally, his faithful manservant - Sam - enters 'the joint' to help protect him.   

[AC Benus]

Creation comes with practice, so it seems;

the knitted brow and puzzling, it redeems

an idle hour and gives the writer hope

that one might someday be compared with Pope.

Parker, I know I'm on record somewhere praising you and your talent as rather smooth a la Pope, so it's wonderful to see you post something directly related to him

[AC Benus]

Found this today.. I like so I thought I'd share... 

 

 

My Days among the Dead are Past 

by Robert Southey

 

My days among the Dead are past;

Around me I behold,

Where'er these casual eyes are cast,

The mighty minds of old;

My never-failing friends are they,

With whom I converse day by day.

 

With them I take delight in weal,

And seek relief in woe;

And while I understand and feel

How much to them I owe,

My cheeks have often been bedew'd

With tears of thoughtful gratitude.

 

My thoughts are with the Dead, with them

I live in long-past years,

Their virtues love, their faults condemn,

Partake their hopes and fears,

And from their lessons seek and find

Instruction with an humble mind.

 

My hopes are with the Dead, anon

My place with them will be,

And I with them shall travel on

Through all Futurity;

Yet leaving here a name, I trust,

That will not perish in the dust. 

Beautiful! It's my hope as well

[AC Benus]

Tomorrow starts Amsterdam Gay Pride/Europride 2016, which seems a good reason to share a bit of Dutch poetry with you.

 

In Amsterdam -amongst other things- you'll find the "Homomonument" : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homomonument

 

As is related in the Wiki information, in the monument is engraved part of a poem by the Dutch poet Jacob Israël de Haan (1881-1924) and when talking about this poet with AC a while ago I promised to share the Dutch text here, with a translation I made.

 

I hope you'll enjoy it.

 

Aan eenen jongen visscher (1917)

 

Rozen zijn niet zoo schoon als uwe wangen,

Tulpen niet als uw bloote voeten teer,

En in geen oogen las ik immer meer

Naar vriendschap zulk een mateloos verlangen.

 

Achter ons was de eeuwigheid van de zee,

Boven ons bleekte grijs de eeuwige lucht,

Aan ‘t eenzaam strand dwaalden alleen wij twee,

Er was geen ander dan het zeegerucht.

 

Laatste dag samen, ik ging naar mijn Stad.

Gij vaart en vischt tevreden, ik dwaal rond|

En vind in stad noch stiller landstreek wijk.

Ik ben zóo moede, ik heb veel liefgehad.

 

Vergeef mij veel, vraag niet wat ik weerstond

En bid dat ik nooit voor uw schoon bezwijk.

 

 

To a young fisherman

 

Roses are not as beautiful as your cheeks,

Tulips not as your bare tender feet,

And in no one's eyes I ever read more

For friendship such a longing without measure.

 

Behind us was the eternity of the sea,

Above us paled grey the eternal sky,

At the lonely beach just the two of us wandered,

There was no other sounds than that of the sea.

 

Last day together, I went to my Town.

You sail and fish contently, I roam around

And find refuge in town nor country.

I am so tired, I loved so much.

 

Forgive me much, don't ask me what I resisted

And pray that I will never give in to your beauty.

　

One aspect of the poem I find most intriguing is the open-ended 'did he or didn't he' nature of the relationship. While it's erotic - the reference to cheeks and feet - it's also tender and mutual - the stroll and conversation on the beach.

 

And yet who is pursuing whom? The last two lines make it seem like the young man entreated the poet to more and he refused. What is the true nature here; it almost asks the reader to make of it what he or she will, but also to ask what's wrong with love in any degree.

 

Thanks for posting this, Peter. The man was fascinating.      

[northie]

Part of the reason for the split - debtors' prison; it's fascinating to learn one could seek the equivalent of church sanctuary in the Mint for threat of debt arrest. Either the place was packed to the gills, or only the 'wealthy' could buy their way in the first place. I assume the latter is the correct scenario.

 

Incidentally, I do so love the jail chapters from the Pickwick Papers. Mr. Pickwick is in prison because he refuses to marry a woman, and naturally, his faithful manservant - Sam - enters 'the joint' to help protect him.   

 

The Mint was apparently an area of London rather than a building. This Wikipedia article is short and informative  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liberty_of_the_Mint

[AC Benus]

The Mint was apparently an area of London rather than a building. This Wikipedia article is short and informative  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liberty_of_the_Mint

Thanks

[Parker Owens]

Tomorrow starts Amsterdam Gay Pride/Europride 2016, which seems a good reason to share a bit of Dutch poetry with you.

 

In Amsterdam -amongst other things- you'll find the "Homomonument" : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homomonument

 

As is related in the Wiki information, in the monument is engraved part of a poem by the Dutch poet Jacob Israël de Haan (1881-1924) and when talking about this poet with AC a while ago I promised to share the Dutch text here, with a translation I made.

 

I hope you'll enjoy it.

 

Aan eenen jongen visscher (1917)

 

Rozen zijn niet zoo schoon als uwe wangen,

Tulpen niet als uw bloote voeten teer,

En in geen oogen las ik immer meer

Naar vriendschap zulk een mateloos verlangen.

 

Achter ons was de eeuwigheid van de zee,

Boven ons bleekte grijs de eeuwige lucht,

Aan ‘t eenzaam strand dwaalden alleen wij twee,

Er was geen ander dan het zeegerucht.

 

Laatste dag samen, ik ging naar mijn Stad.

Gij vaart en vischt tevreden, ik dwaal rond|

En vind in stad noch stiller landstreek wijk.

Ik ben zóo moede, ik heb veel liefgehad.

 

Vergeef mij veel, vraag niet wat ik weerstond

En bid dat ik nooit voor uw schoon bezwijk.

 

 

To a young fisherman

 

Roses are not as beautiful as your cheeks,

Tulips not as your bare tender feet,

And in no one's eyes I ever read more

For friendship such a longing without measure.

 

Behind us was the eternity of the sea,

Above us paled grey the eternal sky,

At the lonely beach just the two of us wandered,

There was no other sounds than that of the sea.

 

Last day together, I went to my Town.

You sail and fish contently, I roam around

And find refuge in town nor country.

I am so tired, I loved so much.

 

Forgive me much, don't ask me what I resisted

And pray that I will never give in to your beauty.

　

 

I read this poem and fell for it at once. I felt heartache at the need to resist, and the price of having done so. Thank you for sharing it.

[AC Benus]

I don't know if you've noticed, but some GA folks like to post poems in their blogs.

 

Our friend and fellow poet, asamvav111, has recently been posting new work on his. Here is a link to Somewhere, but I encourage to stop by, read and leave feedback on his other offerings as well. I recommend them highly

[Mikiesboy]

I don't know if you've noticed, but some GA folks like to post poems in their blogs.

 

Our friend and fellow poet, asamvav111, has recently been posting new work on his. Here is a link to Somewhere, but I encourage to stop by, read and leave feedback on his other offerings as well. I recommend them highly

That was beautiful .. thanks for the link, AC.

[AC Benus]

That was beautiful .. thanks for the link, AC.

YAY!!! Glad you checked it out. Do be sure to stop by again and look over his other poems too