POET'S LAIR

Del Boy said:
Famous Poet and songwriter of the sixties and on. Many, many songs. From upright Jewish family originally but a deep thinker. This was a song of which he wrote 80 verses over two years. In that time his views moved but I like these shown here because they have a very biblical and spiritual stance that moves me. I feel David, Samson, Jesus etc. in there. It certainkly brings me home; some other verses I am not into. He retired at his height , became a buddhist monk, and entered a monastery for a number of years. He left his lady manager, ex-lover, in charge of his affairs and she blew the lot. When he emerged again he had only $100.000 left. So he had to go back to work.

Leonard Cohen.
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Cohen is a very important Canadian poet. The Montrealer certainly had his brush with fame in the mid to late sixties and was still quite popular in the seventies. Mr. Cohen I believe is still creating a wonderfull plethora of work.

And though I like Cohen very much, my favourite modern poets are Wallace Stevens, W.B.Yeats, T.S.Eliot, Ezra Pound and Dylan Thomas.
 
papasha40 said:
Cohen is a very important Canadian poet. The Montrealer certainly had his brush with fame in the mid to late sixties and was still quite popular in the seventies. Mr. Cohen I believe is still creating a wonderfull plethora of work.

And though I like Cohen very much, my favourite modern poets are Wallace Stevens, W.B.Yeats, T.S.Eliot, Ezra Pound and Dylan Thomas.
Click to expand...

Papasha, post any examplexs you wish on this thread, they would be very welcome indeed.
 
NON DAIRY CREAMER
They call it KFC, cause its not really chicken
Hot cheetos for breakfast make a young student sick
And did you ever think someone’s tricking you?
And the guy in the pulpit is a bigot and alas
Some kid walks into my school and opens fire
Heard any good jokes lately?
Cause we sure do need 'em
My punk band's called operation Iraqi freedom

So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?

A new love is burning up for me
Cause one in four American girls has an STD
And you can buy yourself some implants
But you can't buy a soul (threat level orange)
With your chest puffed out
What are you so afraid about?
With your chest puffed out
What are you so afraid about?
What are you so afraid of?
What are you so afraid of?

So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?

And two gay guys got married
That brought the family to its knees
How did they blow this to smithereens?
Just a couple of queens
How did they do it I’ll tell you now
They brought marriage to an end
And I found myself some culprits
It’s two young gay republicans
Young gay republicans
Young gay republicans
Young gay republicans

What’s it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?
So what's it gonna be?
Are you real to me?
Or are you non-dairy creamer?

Mission accomplished
Mission accomplished
Mission accomplished
Mission accomplished

-Tony Fredianelli & Stephan Jenkins (Third Eye Blind)

Sums up America's current situation quite well... are we going to go back to being the real deal, or just become a paper tiger?
 
The Other Guy said:
Sums up America's current situation quite well... are we going to go back to being the real deal, or just become a paper tiger?
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Well, what do you know? Which will it be? When do you reckon the real deal was?

Do you reckon these 2 guys have the answers? Or just a hundred questions, like the rest of us?
 
I wanna go across the river
To the house on oldway road
Where my life began and ended all the same
I remember Chris and Johnny
childhood friends of mine
Who grew wise enough to
learn to play the game

As I walked up to the front yard
There were children playing there
And I thought someday this
may be my home again
But how soon I learned my lesson
Through the windows they threw stones
And said there's nothing
left inside Mr. Jones

I went next door to ask the neighbor
If they knew what happened here
To the place where all my memories remain
As they recalled and tried to answer
Tears rolled down their eyes
But the best reply they had was made in vain

Seems the folks that used to live there
Worked hard for all their means
But their means could never take them to an end
There was hope down in the city
Then a bank declined their loan
Now there's nothing left inside, Mr. Jones

Can't you see that it's empty now
And no one really cares
For even I must try to save my own
You should turn around and get back on that
Lonely oldway road
'Cause there's nothing left inside, Mr. Jones

I'm going back across the river
To see if I can find
The place where life can start and end all the same
But no matter where I'm going it will dwell inside my bones
That there's nothing left inside, Mr. Jones
No there's nothing left inside, Mr. Jones

-Raul Malo
 
Some Fantastic Place (Glenn Tilbrook, Chris Difford)
She gave to me her tenderness
Her friendship and her love
I see her face from time to time
There in the sky above

We grew up learning as we went
What a voyage our life could be
It took us through a wilderness
Into the calmest sea

Her smile could lift me from the pain
I often found within
She said some things I wont forget
She made a few bells ring

So simple her humility
Her beauty found in grace
Today she lives another life
In some fantastic place

She showed me how to raise a smile
Out of her bed of gloom
And in her garden sanctuary
A life began to bloom.

She visualised a world ahead
And planned how it would be
She left behind the strongest love
That lives eternally

I have the hope that when its time
For me to come her way
That shell be there to show me round
Whenever comes that day

Her love was life and happiness
And in her steps I trace
The way to live a better life
In some fantastic place
 
Harlan
(Darrel Scott)

In the deep dark hills of eastern Kentucky
That's the place where I traced my bloodline
And it's there I read on a hillside gravestone
"You'll never leave Harlan alive"

Oh my grandfather's dad crossed the Cumberland Mountains
Where he took a pretty girl to be his bride
Said "Won't you walk with me out the mouth of this holler
Or we'll never leave Harlan alive"

Where the sun comes up about ten in the mornin'
And the sun goes down about three in the day
And you'll fill your cup with whatever bitter brew you're drinkin'
And you spend your life just thinkin' of how to get away

No one ever knew there was coal in them mountains
Till a man from the northeast arrived
Waving hundred dollar bills
Said "I'll pay you for your minerals"
But he never left Harlan alive

Grandma sold out cheap and they moved out west of Pikeville
To a farm where Big Richaldn River winds
And I bet they danced them a jig
And they laughted and sang a new song
"Who said we'd never leave Harlan alive"

But the times got hard and tobacco wasn't selling
And old grandad knew what he'd do to survive
He went and dug for Harlan coal
And sent the money back to grandma
But he never left Harlan alive

Where the sun comes up about ten in the mornin'
And the sun goes down about three in the day
And you'll fill your cup with whatever bitter brew you're drinkin'
And you spend your life diggin coal from the bottom of your grave...
 
My Name is Old Glory



My Name is Old Glory
​


I am the flag of the United States of America . . . My name is Old Glory. I fly atop the world's tallest buildings. I stand watch in America's halls of justice. I fly majestically over great institutes of learning. I stand guard with the greatest military power in the world.


Look up! And see me!

I stand for peace, honor, truth, and justice . . . I stand for freedom . . . I am confident . . . I am arrogant . . . I am proud.


When I am flown with my fellow banners . . . My head is a little higher . . . My colors a little truer. I bow to no one.


I am recognized all over the world. I am worshipped . . . I am saluted . . . I am respected . . . I am revered . . . I am loved . . . And I am feared.


I have fought every battle of every war for more than 200 years . . . Gettysburg, Shilo, Appomatox, San Juan Hill, the trenches of France, the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome, the beaches of Normandy, the deserts of Africa, the cane fields of the Philippines, the rice paddies and jungles of Guam, Okinawa, Japan, Korea, Vietnam, Guadalcanal New Britain, Peleliu, and many more islands. And a score of places long forgotten by all but those who were with me.

I was there.


I led my soldiers . . . I followed them . . . I watched over them . . . They loved me.

I was on a small hill in Iwo Jima.

I was dirty, battle-worn and tired, but my soldiers cheered me, and I was proud.

I have been soiled, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of countries I have helped set free.

It does not hurt, for I am invincible.


I have been soiled, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of my country, and when it is by those with whom I have served in battle - it hurts. But I shall overcome - for I am strong.


I have slipped the bonds of Earth and stand watch over the uncharted new frontiers of space from my vantage point on the moon. I have been a silent witness to all of America's finest hours.


But my finest hour comes when I am torn into strips to be used for bandages for my wounded comrades on the field of battle . . . When I fly at half mast to honor my soldiers . . . And when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving mother at the graveside of her fallen son.


I am proud.

My name is Old Glory.

Dear God - Long may I wave.

By Howard Schnauber
 
America's Symbol

When you look up at me
with my red, white, and blue
waving proudly in the sky,
I hope you think about what I stand for
beyond placing your hand over heart
or standing at attention in salute.

I am so much more than
a woven cloth of stars and stripes...

I am your pride of the USA
that is worn, adorn
and individually flown
for all others to see.

I am the courage shown
by the valiant troops
who raise me up
after a victory won.


I am the solemn remembrance
of the duty served to America
that is draped over a coffin
and given folded to a loved one.


I am each state
united as one nation
under God
with liberty and justice for all.


I am Old Glory,
America's symbol to the world
that will always fly high
in the land of the free
and the home of the brave!


By David G. Bancroft

flag.jpg
 
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Welcome back, Padre.


IRONY

They used to tell me
I was building a dream
Well that was fine by me
Fulfill your plan?
Yes I’m your man
And that’s right up my tree.
Scale the mountains?
Sail the seas?
March, sweat and roast and freeze?
All is quiet on the western front;
We’re crushing enemies.

Yes Sir, No Sir, by your leave,
Have this one on me.
Apologies for being wet,
Only half a brain, you see.
For I’m doing this for England,
For freedom and for free.

I used to go to sea Sir,
Two years before the mast
Before I joined the Army
And then the die was cast
For service in the desert,
The Moslem Brothers’ den.
I took that in my stride Sir
And now I’m home again.
Two stripes on my arm Sir
And I’m nineteen today.
Now I’ll be done with Jihad , Sir,
For ever, so they say.
 
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Yes Padre, 2007. Sorry about that. I especially undertook a quick search for one to greet your return; I believe I have a later short one which would have been just right, but unfortunately it will be a little longer before it wiil be free for publication.

Whatever, great to have you back safe and sound. :salute2:
 
Here it is Padre, as promised.


ESCAPE


Setting sail by moonlight,
When we must slip away,
To where our fate waits kinder,
Beyond the break of day.

Muffled paddles pulling, pressing;
Stretching for the open sea.
Destinies unknown awaiting,
Where the winds of life blow free.

Chill silver dew of breaking dawn
Must light upon a different scene;
Emptiness of peace and silence
Reveal a space where we had been.

Del-boy 2009.
 
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AB_Shorts_Momma said:
My Name is Old Glory​



I am the flag of the United States of America . . . My name is Old Glory. I fly atop the world's tallest buildings. I stand watch in America's halls of justice. I fly majestically over great institutes of learning. I stand guard with the greatest military power in the world.


Look up! And see me!

I stand for peace, honor, truth, and justice . . . I stand for freedom . . . I am confident . . . I am arrogant . . . I am proud.


When I am flown with my fellow banners . . . My head is a little higher . . . My colors a little truer. I bow to no one.


I am recognized all over the world. I am worshipped . . . I am saluted . . . I am respected . . . I am revered . . . I am loved . . . And I am feared.


I have fought every battle of every war for more than 200 years . . . Gettysburg, Shilo, Appomatox, San Juan Hill, the trenches of France, the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome, the beaches of Normandy, the deserts of Africa, the cane fields of the Philippines, the rice paddies and jungles of Guam, Okinawa, Japan, Korea, Vietnam, Guadalcanal New Britain, Peleliu, and many more islands. And a score of places long forgotten by all but those who were with me.

I was there.


I led my soldiers . . . I followed them . . . I watched over them . . . They loved me.

I was on a small hill in Iwo Jima.

I was dirty, battle-worn and tired, but my soldiers cheered me, and I was proud.

I have been soiled, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of countries I have helped set free.

It does not hurt, for I am invincible.


I have been soiled, burned, torn and trampled on the streets of my country, and when it is by those with whom I have served in battle - it hurts. But I shall overcome - for I am strong.


I have slipped the bonds of Earth and stand watch over the uncharted new frontiers of space from my vantage point on the moon. I have been a silent witness to all of America's finest hours.


But my finest hour comes when I am torn into strips to be used for bandages for my wounded comrades on the field of battle . . . When I fly at half mast to honor my soldiers . . . And when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving mother at the graveside of her fallen son.


I am proud.

My name is Old Glory.

Dear God - Long may I wave.

By Howard Schnauber
Click to expand...

This was said as a flag was passed down to a retiring MSgt in my command. Gave me shivers...
 
A new military poem, regarding a young soldier who has just lost his life in Afghanistan, as told by his father on the 6th Novembeer morning Remembrance Day parade 2009 at the Cenotaph. I am waiting to ascertain whether it was written by father or son. Either way it is very poignant :-


GET FELL IN TO THE REAR OF THE COLUMN.

"There is in the eternal realms a great line of men
Who march along a long winding road.
Their task is to collect the dead of ages
Taken from the ranks of the fallen.

After midnight on the 30th of May 2009
The great line halts, and a Sgt Major’s voice rings out..
Not as on the parade ground, but in the solemn silence increased
The short command is given, "Get fell in, to the rear of the column"

Two soldiers take their place, adjust their equiptment, and calm their troubled expressions.
These fallen two shoulder arms
And the great line of men
The dead of ages, taken from the ranks of the fallen
Moves off at a slow march

Winding its way along the long winding road
Almost out of sight, the line visably halts, and a Sgt Major’s voice rings out
"Get fell in to the rear of the column"
And we who mortals be
Strain to hear the sound of their marching feet".





As soon as I have the author's name and pack drill I will add it. RIP.
 
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In Flanders Fields

A little bit late for Veteran's Day, but still a great poem. Go here for some of the history behind it: http://www.arlingtoncemetery.net/flanders.htm

In Flanders Fields
[SIZE=+1]By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]Canadian Army[/SIZE]

[SIZE=+1]In Flanders Fields the poppies blow[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]Between the crosses row on row,[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]That mark our place; and in the sky[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]The larks, still bravely singing, fly[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]Scarce heard amid the guns below.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]We are the Dead. Short days ago[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]Loved and were loved, and now we lie[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]In Flanders fields.[/SIZE] [SIZE=+1]Take up our quarrel with the foe:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]To you from failing hands we throw[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]The torch; be yours to hold it high.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]If ye break faith with us who die[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]We shall not sleep, though poppies grow[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]In Flanders fields.[/SIZE][SIZE=+1][/SIZE]
 
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