[Misc] NSC poetry corner

[Kosh]

I was wondering, if any NS chatters write poetry ? Or lyrical stuff that gets consigned to the I’m not going to make it, what’s the point (secret ramblings) file ?

You should share your stuff, and if anyone takes the piss, well - they can bugger off.

I just wrote this, it’s about being honest with yourself:

Age is wisdom, or so it is said,
sage like vision,
No use when you’re spent,
Turned to ash, when reality dawned,
A furtive glance, yet again spurned.

That smile, it slayed me,
Left me forlorn,
I can’t stand the rain,
Now that it pours.

I wasted my youth,
Didn’t know how to be,
Now that I’m older,
Awash in high seas...
I still don’t believe.

Yet I can bask, in the smile you gave,
So full of life, yet cast in a haze...
Still, now, Is my night, I’ll cherish that smile,
‘Til I go to my grave.

The K Dogg

 

[Goldstone1976]

I once wrote a love sonnet to a woman I was courting. She seemed unimpressed. However, she’s currently lying asleep beside me a decade later, so maybe it played a part?

Not a chance I’m posting it on here.

 

[sydney]

there once was a man called keith

who was a dirty thief

he tried to nick my bike and shit

so i knocked out all his teeth.

 

[sydney]

I once wrote a love sonnet to a woman I was courting. She seemed unimpressed. However, she’s currently lying asleep beside me a decade later, so maybe it played a part?

Not a chance I’m posting it on here.

forsooth my love that i hold dear
the magic of your inner thigh
unto my eye has brought a tear
along with the sight of you mouses ear
which time again has brung a sigh
as your battle cruiser chests draw nigh.

 

[smillie's garden]

forsooth my love that i hold dear
the magic of your inner thigh
unto my eye has brought a tear
along with the sight of you mouses ear
which time again has brung a sigh
as your battle cruiser chests draw nigh.

Is this the poem that accompanies your avatar pic?

 

[BadFish]

I was wondering, if any NS chatters write poetry ? Or lyrical stuff that gets consigned to the I’m not going to make it, what’s the point (secret ramblings) file ?

You should share your stuff, and if anyone takes the piss, well - they can bugger off.

I just wrote this, it’s about being honest with yourself:

Age is wisdom, or so it is said,
sage like vision,
No use when you’re spent,
Turned to ash, when reality dawned,
A furtive glance, yet again spurned.

That smile, it slayed me,
Left me forlorn,
I can’t stand the rain,
Now that it pours.

I wasted my youth,
Didn’t know how to be,
Now that I’m older,
Awash in high seas...
I still don’t believe.

Yet I can bask, in the smile you gave,
So full of life, yet cast in a haze...
Still, now, Is my night, I’ll cherish that smile,
‘Til I go to my grave.

The K Dogg

This is Excellent, really enjoyed it. Beautiful.



Here is one of mine about missing Brighton - Nostalgia

Long Lost Cache

The sun shines pale on this place I knew so well
Tinged with grey, this cold winter’s day
Bizarre flashes of long lost caches
My history throws out her welcoming arms
Wrapping around me, we are together again.

The swirling sea beside me
Whispers my name
She saw through her promises
To wish me away
I listened and I followed
I was so desperate to leave
Now I don’t remember why

All I remember are long hot summers
Days that last forever
Playing in the sunshine,
Friendships and love
Daisy chains and laughs.

The soundtrack danced on loose knit groove
Fool’s Gold, Twisted Melons, Vapour Trails and house.
Wonderwall that new years eve,
Every party we found.
Songs that bound us
Songs that found us
Songs that hold
The songs that still last

So many mornings
Dancing on the grass
Hugging and smiling
Chilled out we laughed.
Those days in fields at dawn though.
They are slipping out of reach
The beauty of that tune at dawn
The Sun Rising, Born Slippy, Trip to the Moon.
I can’t remember which.

My history hugs me gently and tight
I smile as I search my locked-up cache
Do I miss the time or the place?
So far away from each, but
The people don’t change
Although the memories might

 

[sydney]

Is this the poem that accompanies your avatar pic?

no mate...

 

[AmexRuislip]

Beans beans
The musical fruit
The more you eat
The more you toot

Old mother hubbard went to her cupboard
To get poor rover a bone
As she bent over
Up stepped rover
And gave her bone of his own

 

[Kosh]

This is Excellent, really enjoyed it. Beautiful.



Here is one of mine about missing Brighton - Nostalgia

Long Lost Cache

The sun shines pale on this place I knew so well
Tinged with grey, this cold winter’s day
Bizarre flashes of long lost caches
My history throws out her welcoming arms
Wrapping around me, we are together again.

The swirling sea beside me
Whispers my name
She saw through her promises
To wish me away
I listened and I followed
I was so desperate to leave
Now I don’t remember why

All I remember are long hot summers
Days that last forever
Playing in the sunshine,
Friendships and love
Daisy chains and laughs.

The soundtrack danced on loose knit groove
Fool’s Gold, Twisted Melons, Vapour Trails and house.
Wonderwall that new years eve,
Every party we found.
Songs that bound us
Songs that found us
Songs that hold
The songs that still last

So many mornings
Dancing on the grass
Hugging and smiling
Chilled out we laughed.
Those days in fields at dawn though.
They are slipping out of reach
The beauty of that tune at dawn
The Sun Rising, Born Slippy, Trip to the Moon.
I can’t remember which.

My history hugs me gently and tight
I smile as I search my locked-up cache
Do I miss the time or the place?
So far away from each, but
The people don’t change
Although the memories might

Well, my head might hurt a bit after last nights antics ... but that’s pretty cool, love it.

 

[portlock seagull]

This thread will be OVER once Mr Baine wades in!

 

[portlock seagull]

I’ve always liked this one:

Half a volley
Half a volley
Half a volley over…

(By Lord TENNISON)

 

[AmexRuislip]

Sussex

God gave all men all earth to love,
But since our hearts are small,
Ordained for each one spot should prove
Belovèd over all;
That, as He watched Creation’s birth,
So we, in godlike mood,
May of our love create our earth
And see that it is good.

So one shall Baltic pines content,
As one some Surrey glade,
Or one the palm-grove’s droned lament
Before Levuka’s Trade.
Each to his choice, and I rejoice
The lot has fallen to me
In a fair ground—in a fair ground—
Yea, Sussex by the sea!

No tender-hearted garden crowns,
No bosomed woods adorn
Our blunt, bow-headed, whale-backed Downs,
But gnarled and writhen thorn—
Bare slopes where chasing shadows skim,
And, through the gaps revealed,
Belt upon belt, the wooded, dim,
Blue goodness of the Weald.

Clean of officious fence or hedge,
Half-wild and wholly tame,
The wise turf cloaks the white cliff edge
As when the Romans came.
What sign of those that fought and died
At shift of sword and sword?
The barrow and the camp abide,
The sunlight and the sward.

Here leaps ashore the full Sou’west
All heavy-winged with brine,
Here lies above the folded crest
The Channel’s leaden line;
And here the sea-fogs lap and cling,
And here, each warning each,
The sheep-bells and the ship-bells ring
Along the hidden beach.

We have no waters to delight
Our broad and brookless vales—
Only the dewpond on the height
Unfed, that never fails—
Whereby no tattered herbage tells
Which way the season flies—
Only our close-bit thyme that smells
Like dawn in Paradise.

Here through the strong and shadeless days
The tinkling silence thrills;
Or little, lost, Down churches praise
The Lord who made the hills:
But here the Old Gods guard their round,
And, in her secret heart,
The heathen kingdom Wilfrid found
Dreams, as she dwells, apart.

Though all the rest were all my share,
With equal soul I’d see
Her nine-and-thirty sisters fair,
Yet none more fair than she.
Choose ye your need from Thames to Tweed,
And I will choose instead
Such lands as lie ’twixt Rake and Rye,
Black Down and Beachy Head.

I will go out against the sun
Where the rolled scarp retires,
And the Long Man of Wilmington
Looks naked toward the shires;
And east till doubling Rother crawls
To find the fickle tide,
By dry and sea-forgotten walls,
Our ports of stranded pride.

I will go north about the shaws
And the deep ghylls that breed
Huge oaks and old, the which we hold
No more than Sussex weed;
Or south where windy Piddinghoe’s
Begilded dolphin veers
And red beside wide-bankèd Ouse
Lie down our Sussex steers.

So to the land our hearts we give
Till the sure magic strike,
And Memory, Use, and Love make live
Us and our fields alike—
That deeper than our speech and thought,
Beyond our reason’s sway,
Clay of the pit whence we were wrought
Yearns to its fellow-clay.
God gives all men all earth to love,
But since man’s heart is small,
Ordains for each one spot shall prove
Beloved over all.
Each to his choice, and I rejoice
The lot has fallen to me
In a fair ground—in a fair ground—
Yea, Sussex by the sea!

Sussex - Rudyard Kipling

 

[Questions]

I once wrote a love sonnet to a woman I was courting. She seemed unimpressed. However, she’s currently lying asleep beside me a decade later, so maybe it played a part?

Not a chance I’m posting it on here.

So you bored her to sleep again with your love sonnet

 

[KZNSeagull]

Poetry is rubbish
It often doesn't rhyme
Please don't bother giving
It any of your time

I thank you

 

[Seagull on the Hill]

I must go down to the sea again
The lonely sea and the sky
I left my shoes and socks there
I wonder if they are dry?
Copyright - Spike Milligan.

 

[Westdene Seagull]

Mary had a little lamb, she thought it rather silly. She threw it up into the air and caught it by its ....
Willy was a watchdog sitting in the grass when along came a bee and stung on the ....
Ask no questions, tell no lies, I saw a policeman doing up his ...
Flies are a nuisance, bees are worse, and this is the end of this silly little verse.

Pathetic I know but it's always amused me.

 

[Muhammed - I’m hard - Bruce Lee]

There was a young man from Dundee
Who got stung on the neck by a wasp
When asked if it hurt
He said 'No, not much'.
It can do it again if it likes

 

[Is it PotG?]

Both highlighted in Lewis.

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the Ocean,
The winds of Heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
in one another’s being mingle –
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain’d its brother:
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea –
what are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?

Shelley






How clear, how lovely bright,
How beautiful to sight
Those beams of morning play;
How heaven laughs out with glee
Where, like a bird set free,
Up from the eastern sea
Soars the delightful day.

To-day I shall be strong,
No more shall yield to wrong,
Shall squander life no more;
Days lost, I know not how,
I shall retrieve them now;
Now I shall keep the vow
I never kept before.

Ensanguining the skies
How heavily it dies
Into the west away;
Past touch and sight and sound
Not further to be found,
How hopeless under ground
Falls the remorseful day.

Housman


You don't get this type of kit in Columbo.

 

[jakarta]

As opposed to the Kipling Verse about our wonderful county here is John Betjemen's take on David Brent's gaff:

Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!
It isn't fit for humans now,
There isn't grass to graze a cow.
Swarm over, Death!

Come, bombs and blow to smithereens
Those air -conditioned, bright canteens,
Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans,
Tinned minds, tinned breath.

Mess up the mess they call a town—
A house for ninety-seven down
And once a week a half a crown
For twenty years.

And get that man with double chin
Who'll always cheat and always win,
Who washes his repulsive skin
In women's tears:

And smash his desk of polished oak
And smash his hands so used to stroke
And stop his boring dirty joke
And make him yell.

But spare the bald young clerks who add
The profits of the stinking cad;
It's not their fault that they are mad,
They've tasted Hell.

It's not their fault they do not know
The birdsong from the radio,
It's not their fault they often go
To Maidenhead

And talk of sport and makes of cars
In various bogus-Tudor bars
And daren't look up and see the stars
But belch instead.

In labour-saving homes, with care
Their wives frizz out peroxide hair
And dry it in synthetic air
And paint their nails.

Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough
To get it ready for the plough.
The cabbages are coming now;
The earth exhales.

I lived near there in 1992 (Colnbrook). If anything it is now worse ...

 

[Eric the meek]

I once wrote a love sonnet to a woman I was courting. She seemed unimpressed. However, she’s currently lying asleep beside me a decade later, so maybe it played a part?

Not a chance I’m posting it on here.

Oh, go on. You know you want to.