grahamg
Old codger
- Location
- South of Manchester, UK
Quite brilliant!!!!!!!?
Do any of you write poetry?
- Thread starter Gaer
- Start date
Unprolific Pen
My pen is not prolific,
My hand disdains progression.
My "Canon" is a derringer--
Diagnosis-- Mad depression.
Doctor death examines me,
Disects my brain with scissors.
Severs all my motor nerves
With demon skilled precision.
Book shelves filled with uncut pulp.
Poems, Prose, not by my hand.
Just well read science of the mind--
"Mental madness"--"The neurotic man".
"Poetic license" driven mad,
From midnight dark to darker noon.
Alone, confined, death's prisoner
In a locked one corner room.
Mr. Raven, our minds converge.
We two are kin Master Poe.
No cheer, no comfort, no escape--
Just dark despair, gloom, forbade.
My pen is not prolific,
My hand disdains progression.
My "Canon" is a derringer--
Diagnosis-- Mad depression.
Doctor death examines me,
Disects my brain with scissors.
Severs all my motor nerves
With demon skilled precision.
Book shelves filled with uncut pulp.
Poems, Prose, not by my hand.
Just well read science of the mind--
"Mental madness"--"The neurotic man".
"Poetic license" driven mad,
From midnight dark to darker noon.
Alone, confined, death's prisoner
In a locked one corner room.
Mr. Raven, our minds converge.
We two are kin Master Poe.
No cheer, no comfort, no escape--
Just dark despair, gloom, forbade.
Lara
Friend of the Arts
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic Coast
Very clever @ohioboy I took this quite seriously at first. You nailed the doom and gloom and then the last verse, when you come clean with your intention of developing your own dark character inspired by the "Master Poe", came off as a fun twist in camaraderie with the master of darkness. Well done.
Last edited:
Thanks Laura, the last word should be-forbode-not forbade.
Bojacks
The children, eyes wide open
Listen to the tale of Bojacks.
A timid little forest rascal
Who scampers about the lakes.
He will dash across an open field
So fast as to cease the wind.
Then circle 'round and start anew
From tree to tree, glen to glen.
He's just having fun he is,
To pass his joy filled day.
In his very own innocent world,
Life is to run and play.
You can never set your watch to him,
He's timeless and fancy free.
He stops to verse with no one else--
He's quite invisible you see.
Still you can hear him running past,
Time to keep, not here, not there.
Squeaking, chirping his happy sounds,
Riding the currents of happy air.
I'm still not sure what Bojacks is?
An elf, a troll, a leprechaun?
Real or imagined, all this aside--
He's a child's heart when the day is done!
The children, eyes wide open
Listen to the tale of Bojacks.
A timid little forest rascal
Who scampers about the lakes.
He will dash across an open field
So fast as to cease the wind.
Then circle 'round and start anew
From tree to tree, glen to glen.
He's just having fun he is,
To pass his joy filled day.
In his very own innocent world,
Life is to run and play.
You can never set your watch to him,
He's timeless and fancy free.
He stops to verse with no one else--
He's quite invisible you see.
Still you can hear him running past,
Time to keep, not here, not there.
Squeaking, chirping his happy sounds,
Riding the currents of happy air.
I'm still not sure what Bojacks is?
An elf, a troll, a leprechaun?
Real or imagined, all this aside--
He's a child's heart when the day is done!
OK, I gotta come clean.
This little story is true;
I’ll Never Forget My First Friend
I was three.
He was a few months.
Neither of us had much to play with….but each other.
We never lacked.
He’d look up at me with complete unwavering trust.
Trying to read my face.
Ears perked up when I spoke.
Wherever I went, he followed.
He rapidly grew, and soon we were face high to each other.
We’d roam the patch of woods up the hill from our place, him guarding my every step, sometimes blocking my way when I got too close to the cliff edge. I didn’t know it at the time.
I’d take my naps nestled into his chest.
He’d lie there, never moving a muscle.
As I grew to boyhood, he remained a part of me, my shadow.
We’d wrestle….he’d let me win.
We’d hunt.
We’d fish.
Not that he took part.
He was no hunting dog.
Just my companion.
We’d share lunch.
He’d listen to my every word, as we sat on the creek bank.
Years passed.
I got very busy, but not so busy that we wouldn’t still roam the woods every so often, even though he had a bit of a time keeping up.
The day came when he just didn’t get up.
I was sixteen.
Mom told me to take him in to the vet.
‘He’ll be able to fix him up.’
I gathered him up and laid him in the passenger’s seat of the pickup, right beside me, and we had one of our conversations while I drove the twenty miles.
It had been awhile.
Too long actually.
I sat on the stool beside the exam table, while the vet did his thing.
Once again my best friend and I were face high to each other.
The vet was talking with my mom.
He handed me the phone.
It was time.
He had to be put to sleep.
OK, I brought him in to get fixed up, and now he’s going to be put down….just like that.
I was told I had to leave the room.
Like hell.
The vet did…..something. I don’t recall.
I held my best friend’s face with both hands.
His ears perked up as we had what would be our last conversation, telling him the reality.
Then I just cradled his head, holding it to my chest, not moving a muscle until, feeling his last breath against my heart, he went to sleep.
Even though the wipers were going, I had a hard time seeing through the rain drops on the way back home.
……..I’ll never forget my first friend
This little story is true, 'cept for these last few words;
The vet did…..something. I don’t recall.
I held my best friend’s face with both hands.
His ears perked up as we had what would be our last conversation, telling him the reality.
Then I just cradled his head, holding it to my chest, not moving a muscle until, feeling his last breath against my heart, he went to sleep.
Heh, I embellished that a bit.
Didn't stay
Left my first friend there
Drove home empty
Just the smell of his diseased hind end emanating from passenger seat.
I write;
So, I created a touching scene
But that's not in my manuscript for my book, so can't be here either.
And, well, its not true
Can't rest with that
As a professed writer, I must at least put (to quote Jack Nicholson in Something's gotta Give) 'a version of the truth' to ink and paper, unless I want to write a novel
OK, time for a nap
it'll come easier
Ladybj
Live, Laugh and Love
- Location
- Somewhere in the USA
Yes. I wrote a poem titled Never Give Up. It got published in a book.. which was many years ago. Sadly, not able to locate the book.
grahamg
Old codger
- Location
- South of Manchester, UK
The Meaning Of Love
To love is to share life together,
to build special plans just for two,
to work side by side,
and then smile with pride,
as one by one, dreams all come true.
To love is to help and encourage
with smiles and sincere words of praise,
to take time to share,
to listen and care
in tender, affectionate ways.
To love is to have someone special,
one on whom you can always depend
to be there through the years,
sharing laughter and tears,
as a partner, a lover, a friend.
To love is to make special memories
of moments you love to recall,
of all the good things
that sharing life brings.
Love is the greatest of all.
I've learned the full meaning
of sharing and caring
and having my dreams all come true;
I've learned the full meaning
of being in love
by being and loving with you.
Krina Shah
To love is to share life together,
to build special plans just for two,
to work side by side,
and then smile with pride,
as one by one, dreams all come true.
To love is to help and encourage
with smiles and sincere words of praise,
to take time to share,
to listen and care
in tender, affectionate ways.
To love is to have someone special,
one on whom you can always depend
to be there through the years,
sharing laughter and tears,
as a partner, a lover, a friend.
To love is to make special memories
of moments you love to recall,
of all the good things
that sharing life brings.
Love is the greatest of all.
I've learned the full meaning
of sharing and caring
and having my dreams all come true;
I've learned the full meaning
of being in love
by being and loving with you.
Krina Shah
peppermint
Senior Member
- Location
- East Coast Yes
peppermint
Senior Member
- Location
- East Coast Yes
Krina Shah....Beautiful....
I use to write poems.....My life changed since I am old......I love now to read poems....Thank you for caring ......My husband and I married when we were 20 years old.....Still standing!!!! Our two kids are married and have children...
I use to write poems.....My life changed since I am old......I love now to read poems....Thank you for caring ......My husband and I married when we were 20 years old.....Still standing!!!! Our two kids are married and have children...
grahamg
Old codger
- Location
- South of Manchester, UK
Another very good one (posted by the same man who found the previous one):
"I loved you first: but afterwards your love"
By Christina Rossetti
Poca favilla gran fiamma seconda. – Dante
Ogni altra cosa, ogni pensier va fore,
E sol ivi con voi rimansi amore. – Petrarca
I loved you first: but afterwards your love
Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song
As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove.
Which owes the other most? my love was long,
And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;
I loved and guessed at you, you construed me
And loved me for what might or might not be –
Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.
For verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine;’
With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done,
For one is both and both are one in love:
Rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine;’
Both have the strength and both the length thereof,
Both of us, of the love which makes us one.
"I loved you first: but afterwards your love"
By Christina Rossetti
Poca favilla gran fiamma seconda. – Dante
Ogni altra cosa, ogni pensier va fore,
E sol ivi con voi rimansi amore. – Petrarca
I loved you first: but afterwards your love
Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song
As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove.
Which owes the other most? my love was long,
And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;
I loved and guessed at you, you construed me
And loved me for what might or might not be –
Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.
For verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine;’
With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done,
For one is both and both are one in love:
Rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine;’
Both have the strength and both the length thereof,
Both of us, of the love which makes us one.
palides2021
Well-known Member
- Location
- MidAtlantic, USA
This was a heart-wrenching poem! It told a story and the love of a boy for his best friend. Well done!OK, I gotta come clean.
This little story is true;
I’ll Never Forget My First Friend
I was three.
He was a few months.
Neither of us had much to play with….but each other.
We never lacked.
He’d look up at me with complete unwavering trust.
Trying to read my face.
Ears perked up when I spoke.
Wherever I went, he followed.
He rapidly grew, and soon we were face high to each other.
We’d roam the patch of woods up the hill from our place, him guarding my every step, sometimes blocking my way when I got too close to the cliff edge. I didn’t know it at the time.
I’d take my naps nestled into his chest.
He’d lie there, never moving a muscle.
As I grew to boyhood, he remained a part of me, my shadow.
We’d wrestle….he’d let me win.
We’d hunt.
We’d fish.
Not that he took part.
He was no hunting dog.
Just my companion.
We’d share lunch.
He’d listen to my every word, as we sat on the creek bank.
Years passed.
I got very busy, but not so busy that we wouldn’t still roam the woods every so often, even though he had a bit of a time keeping up.
The day came when he just didn’t get up.
I was sixteen.
Mom told me to take him in to the vet.
‘He’ll be able to fix him up.’
I gathered him up and laid him in the passenger’s seat of the pickup, right beside me, and we had one of our conversations while I drove the twenty miles.
It had been awhile.
Too long actually.
I sat on the stool beside the exam table, while the vet did his thing.
Once again my best friend and I were face high to each other.
The vet was talking with my mom.
He handed me the phone.
It was time.
He had to be put to sleep.
OK, I brought him in to get fixed up, and now he’s going to be put down….just like that.
I was told I had to leave the room.
Like hell.
The vet did…..something. I don’t recall.
I held my best friend’s face with both hands.
His ears perked up as we had what would be our last conversation, telling him the reality.
Then I just cradled his head, holding it to my chest, not moving a muscle until, feeling his last breath against my heart, he went to sleep.
Even though the wipers were going, I had a hard time seeing through the rain drops on the way back home.
……..I’ll never forget my first friend
This little story is true, 'cept for these last few words;
The vet did…..something. I don’t recall.
I held my best friend’s face with both hands.
His ears perked up as we had what would be our last conversation, telling him the reality.
Then I just cradled his head, holding it to my chest, not moving a muscle until, feeling his last breath against my heart, he went to sleep.
Heh, I embellished that a bit.
Didn't stay
Left my first friend there
Drove home empty
Just the smell of his diseased hind end emanating from passenger seat.
I write;
So, I created a touching scene
But that's not in my manuscript for my book, so can't be here either.
And, well, its not true
Can't rest with that
As a professed writer, I must at least put (to quote Jack Nicholson in Something's gotta Give) 'a version of the truth' to ink and paper, unless I want to write a novel
OK, time for a nap
it'll come easier
View attachment 174502
palides2021
Well-known Member
- Location
- MidAtlantic, USA
Here's a poem I wrote during the summer. I like to write poetry during my spare time. I have not published this one, so sharing it
here. It's not a rhyming poem.
Nature’s Call
I love to stroll through the grass
Gazing at the pink hydrangea bush,
Seeing the roses with their elegant red smiles,
Listening to the birds tilt a salute my way.
I know they’re talking to each other
“Here she comes. Watch this human. Maybe
She’ll pour water in the fountain for us again.”
I can sense the urgency in their chirps
As I pass by.
It feels as if they’re competing
To see who will be the loudest.
I love seeing the bobtail rabbit with its brown fur,
“There’s no need to keep still as I pass by, little rabbit.”
I am still, too, as I watch your furry body bound away,
And just the other day, the groundhog paid a visit,
His gray, pudgy body eagerly devouring the grass
Before he sensed me. He stood up, looking my way
Then waddled back into his hiding hole until I moved on.
I love seeing the delicate bodies of the brown deer
As they graze the land. They also know the ebb and flow
Of nature’s call and sprint away when seen.
The gray squirrels are busy being everywhere and nowhere.
The bees buzz around the clover. I know you’re hiding
The honey somewhere. Butterflies flutter by gracefully.
I love seeing the zucchini’s leaves waving in the breeze,
Large green elephant ears with thin stalks
Like a protective mother hiding her bounty, with
Tiny fuzzy thorns that keep the deer away.
The sturdy brick garden bed has kept its promise,
The tomato plants sprout like beanstalks
Reaching hungrily for the sun that sits high in the sky
Keeping company with the cucumber’s yellow flowers.
Like a mother, I nourish all the
Vegetables, apples, and pears, and
The blackberries, figs, and grapes. I water them
Every day so that they keep growing happily,
So that they feel loved and cared for, so that
I can keep smiling back at them each day.
So that love wins the day.
Aug. 2021
here. It's not a rhyming poem.
Nature’s Call
I love to stroll through the grass
Gazing at the pink hydrangea bush,
Seeing the roses with their elegant red smiles,
Listening to the birds tilt a salute my way.
I know they’re talking to each other
“Here she comes. Watch this human. Maybe
She’ll pour water in the fountain for us again.”
I can sense the urgency in their chirps
As I pass by.
It feels as if they’re competing
To see who will be the loudest.
I love seeing the bobtail rabbit with its brown fur,
“There’s no need to keep still as I pass by, little rabbit.”
I am still, too, as I watch your furry body bound away,
And just the other day, the groundhog paid a visit,
His gray, pudgy body eagerly devouring the grass
Before he sensed me. He stood up, looking my way
Then waddled back into his hiding hole until I moved on.
I love seeing the delicate bodies of the brown deer
As they graze the land. They also know the ebb and flow
Of nature’s call and sprint away when seen.
The gray squirrels are busy being everywhere and nowhere.
The bees buzz around the clover. I know you’re hiding
The honey somewhere. Butterflies flutter by gracefully.
I love seeing the zucchini’s leaves waving in the breeze,
Large green elephant ears with thin stalks
Like a protective mother hiding her bounty, with
Tiny fuzzy thorns that keep the deer away.
The sturdy brick garden bed has kept its promise,
The tomato plants sprout like beanstalks
Reaching hungrily for the sun that sits high in the sky
Keeping company with the cucumber’s yellow flowers.
Like a mother, I nourish all the
Vegetables, apples, and pears, and
The blackberries, figs, and grapes. I water them
Every day so that they keep growing happily,
So that they feel loved and cared for, so that
I can keep smiling back at them each day.
So that love wins the day.
Aug. 2021
Alizerine
Senior Member
Who Can I Tell
Who can I tell?
Or is it whom can I tell?
Or is it who may I tell?
Is it I can tell you
but I may not?
Or is it I may tell you?
But I can not.
Alizerine
Senior Member
What a beautiful tribute. Thank you.Well, I've got just the one, and I've posted it too many times, but, since this is the poetry thread...... looks like I'll be posting it again;
(a little story goes with it)
I’ll Never Forget My First Friend
I was three.
He was a few months.
Neither of us had much to play with….but each other.
We never lacked.
He’d look up at me with complete unwavering trust.
Trying to read my face.
Ears perked up when I spoke.
Wherever I went, he followed.
He rapidly grew, and soon we were face high to each other.
We’d roam the patch of woods up the hill from our place, him guarding my every step, sometimes blocking my way when I got too close to the cliff edge. I didn’t know it at the time.
I’d take my naps nestled into his chest.
He’d lie there, never moving a muscle.
As I grew to boyhood, he remained a part of me, my shadow.
We’d wrestle….he’d let me win.
We’d hunt.
We’d fish.
Not that he took part.
He was no hunting dog.
Just my companion.
We’d share lunch.
He’d listen to my every word, as we sat on the creek bank.
Years passed.
I got very busy, but not so busy that we wouldn’t still roam the woods every so often, even though he had a bit of a time keeping up.
The day came when he just didn’t get up.
I was sixteen.
Mom told me to take him in to the vet.
‘He’ll be able to fix him up.’
I gathered him up and laid him in the passenger’s seat of the pickup, right beside me, and we had one of our conversations while I drove the twenty miles.
It had been awhile.
Too long actually.
I sat on the stool beside the exam table, while the vet did his thing.
Once again my best friend and I were face high to each other.
The vet was talking with my mom.
He handed me the phone.
It was time.
He had to be put to sleep.
OK, I brought him in to get fixed up, and now he’s going to be put down….just like that.
I was told I had to leave the room.
Like hell.
The vet did…..something. I don’t recall.
I held my best friend’s face with both hands.
His ears perked up as we had what would be our last conversation, telling him the reality.
Then I just cradled his head, holding it to my chest, not moving a muscle until, feeling his last breath against my heart, he went to sleep.
Even though the wipers were going, I had a hard time seeing through the rain drops on the way back home.
……..I’ll never forget my first friend
and the poem (a quite simple one);
grahamg
Old codger
- Location
- South of Manchester, UK
Brilliant in its simplicity, (I believe my mother would have approved!).
Alligatorob
SF VIP
It appear so, but I ain't one of em.
grahamg
Old codger
- Location
- South of Manchester, UK
Complete poetry numpty then, like myself!!!!
Last edited:
Alligatorob
SF VIP
Probably, though I am not sure what a numpty is. I suspect Shakespeare wasn't one...
Dementia
Sit for a while and close your eyes
Maybe think of days gone by
When you shared your lives together
Some days you’d laugh or cry
But today things have changed a little
Dementia has entered your lives
A condition alien to you both
Where anger and worry thrives
But try if you will to face those Demons
Who seem to have taken control
Of a loved one very close to you
Though no change in their heart and soul
For nobody knows what is there in their mind
Their feelings they find hard to explain
So how can you help them to cope with life
Many ideas go round in your brain
Patience and understanding takes a key role
Compassion can also play a part
As sympathy solves very little
But love returned straight from the heart
A fond caress when passing the chair
And many a warm comforting embrace
The tell-tale sign of acceptance
The welcoming smile on their face
Words like these are written for comfort
To those who constantly care
To demonstrate fully the answer
Those loved ones are definitely still here.
Sit for a while and close your eyes
Maybe think of days gone by
When you shared your lives together
Some days you’d laugh or cry
But today things have changed a little
Dementia has entered your lives
A condition alien to you both
Where anger and worry thrives
But try if you will to face those Demons
Who seem to have taken control
Of a loved one very close to you
Though no change in their heart and soul
For nobody knows what is there in their mind
Their feelings they find hard to explain
So how can you help them to cope with life
Many ideas go round in your brain
Patience and understanding takes a key role
Compassion can also play a part
As sympathy solves very little
But love returned straight from the heart
A fond caress when passing the chair
And many a warm comforting embrace
The tell-tale sign of acceptance
The welcoming smile on their face
Words like these are written for comfort
To those who constantly care
To demonstrate fully the answer
Those loved ones are definitely still here.