Today's poet

[Mossdog]

Chp 4 of a song of Solomon - I especially like the reference to sheep and goats :wink: By heck they knew a thing or two about romance and wooing in Bible times...

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead.
Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren among them.
Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely: thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy locks.
Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.
Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies.
Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.
Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.
Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse, with me from Lebanon: look from the top of Amana, from the top of Shenir and Hermon, from the lions' dens, from the mountains of the leopards.
Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck.
How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse! how much better is thy love than wine! and the smell of thine ointments than all spices!
Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits; camphire, with spikenard,
Spikenard and saffron; calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices:
A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams from Lebanon.
Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.

[stevefoster]

It's a hard life!!!

Glad somone realises it Mossdog:wink:

[Hes]

I missed this last night amongst NB's and Steve's shenanigans! Another favourite.

I think this poem has been posted before, in fact I'm sure it has but what the heck

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

[Hes]

Wow Mossy, they certainly did know how to woo the ladies in those days. Must be nice to be described has having comely speech and temples like pomegranate but I'm not sure about breasts like twin roe deer...is that a translation error? Then again, roe deer are lithe and bouncy...:wink:

[Stolly]

Then again, roe deer are lithe and bouncy...:wink:

And hairy.............

[freckle]

Really enjoyed the tete a tete between NB and Merry and glad to know that the melancholy ones were in the past tense! Glad to see some favourite Frost choices being re posted I never tire of the two roads poem....particularly the last two lines...

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


Night

Francis William Bourdillon

1. 
   
   The night has a thousand eyes,
   And the day but one;
   Yet the light of the bright world dies
   With the dying sun.
   
   The mind has a thousand eyes,
   And the heart but one;
   Yet the light of a whole life dies
   When love is done.

[Ady In Accy]

A selective extract from a poetic singer, songwriter, artist and pretty much genius. Some of you may know his talent:

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to the end of love

[Mountain Goatess]

On't forum again,
Sez Mrs.Merry with a smirk,
Not for long,
Sup your coffee and gerrof to work!

That's quality that Steve!
Had a giggle at yours and NB's daft poems! Good stuff! :thumbup:

[Hes]

Nice one Ady. I really like him. Have you got the book Stranger Music? It has some great poetry in it.

A selective extract from a poetic singer, songwriter, artist and pretty much genius. Some of you may know his talent:

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to the end of love

[freckle]

A selective extract from a poetic singer, songwriter, artist and pretty much genius. Some of you may know his talent:

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to the end of love

a good choice ade and he is a poet indeed, apparently he made his name as a poet b4 a singer but i have to confess i knew him as singer first and i love that song!...i have leonard cohen's book of longing which includes this ...apparently some of the poems were written during his retreat in Mt Baldy (http://www.mbzc.org/index.php4)

sweet time

how sweet time feels
when its too late

and you don't have to follow
her swinging hips

all the way into
your dying imagination