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It's blooming cold and windy down south too, brrr!
The Clod and the Pebble
by William Blake (1757-1827)
Love seeketh not Itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hells despair.
So sang a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet;
But a Pebble of the brook,
Warbled out these metres meet.
Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to Its delight:
Joys in anothers loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.
"Blossom by blossomQuote:
Originally Posted by freckle
The Spring begins"
Lovely stuff.
Me.
Free spirited and incorrigible,
Deep thinking and knowledgeable,
Tasted many delights that you should never try,
Honest and tactless incapable of a lie,
Walk along the razors edge look into the abyss,
Too many ones who care my heart they'd miss,
Back and forth i go and never sure,
If i can escape Lord Hades lure,
The sides of me are poles apart,
Both ruled by my head and not my heart.
By Herakles.
Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
I like that one freckle must check out some more of his poems :cool:
Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Another excellent poem Hes :)
"Wouldn't you just die without Mahler?"
Nice one N-dubya very thought provoking that one :cool:Quote:
Originally Posted by N-dubya
I noticed a For Sale sign on one of our local pubs the other day and it jogged my memory of all the good times I had spent there. It will probably be made into flats rather than surviving as a pub.
"You don't know what you have till its gone"
With The Lark
Night is for sorrow and dawn is for joy,
Chasing the troubles that fret and annoy;
Darkness for sighing and daylight for song,--
Cheery and chaste the strain, heartfelt and strong.
All the night through, though I moan in the dark,
I wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
Deep in the midnight the rain whips the leaves,
Softly and sadly the wood-spirit grieves.
But when the first hue of dawn tints the sky,
I shall shake out my wings like the birds and be dry;
And though, like the rain-drops, I grieved through the dark,
I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
On the high hills of heaven, some morning to be,
Where the rain shall not grieve thro' the leaves of the tree,
There my heart will be glad for the pain I have known,
For my hand will be clasped in the hand of mine own;
And though life has been hard and death's pathway been dark,
I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
Paul Laurence Dunbar
Hey up all....thanks for the lovely comments on my wee poem. Good to see another cracking poem with an interesting theme from NDubya and Herakles, you have found a great way of exploring issues with the help of the gods!
I really like the above poem by Paul Dunbar, MG. How true...night is the time when I lie awake and worry but with daybreak everything gets put into perspective again, waking in the morning to sing with the lark! Lovely stuff
If you get time you should check out the work of the poetry boyband Aisle 16. I was introduced to their work this weekend and its brilliant. Very witty performance poetry. I especially liked the ironic 'You've gotta fight for your right to latte'.