What Poetry Moved You?

[bods1000]

bods, andito ka rin pala! didn't know you were a rocker...and poet too!

some of the best rock lyrics can pass off as poems by themselves.

 

If sand waves were sound waves

What song would be in the air now

What stinging tune

Could split this endless noon

And make the sky swell with rain.

 

If war were a game that a man or a child

Could think of winning

What kind of rule

Can overthrow a fool

And leave the land with no stain.

- Suzanne Vega Song Of Sand

[a_ngel]

Come to me through my dreams

& than by day I shall be well again,

So for the night will more than pay

the hopeless longing of the day.

 

Come as thow comes a thousand times

a messenger in radiant climbs,

and smile on thy new world

and be as kind to others as to me.

 

Or as thow never comes in soth,

come now & let me dream a truth,

Part my hair & Kiss my brow ,

& say "My Love why Sufferth thow"?

 

Come to me through my dreams,

& by day I shall be well again

So for the night will more than pay

the hopeless longing of the day.

 

William Shakesphere.

[Magaling]

Something light for a change.

 

MENTIROSA

By Mellow Man Ace

 

Check this out baby

Tenemos tremendo lio

Last night you didn’t go

A la casa de tu tio

Resulta ser hey you were at a party

Higher than the sky

Emborrachada de Bacardi

I bet you didn’t know que conocia al cantinero

He told me you were drinking and wasting my dinero

talking about come and enjoy

what a women gives an hombre

(but first of all see, I have to know your nombre)

But I really wanna ask ya que si es verdad

and please por favor tell me la verdad

cause I really need to know, yeah necesito entender

if you're gonna be a player or be my mujer

cause right now you're just a liar, a straight mentirosa

today u tell me something y manana otra cosa

 

I remember the day que tu me decias

Time and time again que tu me querias

and at the time hey yo te creia

porque no sabia that u were a relambia

con Fulanito y Menganito, Joseito y Fernandito,

Larry and Joey y then his brother Chico

mucho que frentera that’s a straight skeezer

si quieres un pedazito go her way coz she's a pleaser

but I tell ya straight up porque brother me di de cuanta

that on Main Street her cuerpo estaba a la venta

now get some el que quiera get some cualquiera

hey yo she don’t care man she's a tremenda fiera

yeah you're hot to trying how to get what i got

pero ya que te conozco what I got i guess not

coz you’re just a mentirosa con tu lengua venenosa

today u tell me something, y manana es otra cosa

 

Estaba en tu casa y ring there goes the phone

recogiste y dijiste (call me back, I’m not alone)

el queria tu direccion, yeah just your address

y antes que colgaste I heard u say (I'll wear a dress)

alabao que descarada is what ran through my mind

so I say lets go out tonight", she says (we go out all time)

ella no sabia that yo I knew her plan,

de que iba a salir with that other man

so I told the girl in Spanish I said "Ya me voy."

cause you ain't treating me like I’m some sucker toy

cause who needs u anyway con tu lengua venenosa

today you tell me something y manana es otra cosa

 

Just thought I'd share the lyrics of one of my favorite raps of all time. Peace!

(Sana hindi OT- poetry din naman ang rap diba?)

[DELISYUS]

not my own but.... they've touched me yet again...

when you're troubled, lost, confused, angry, insecure, in despair....

 

AFTER A WHILE

by Veronica Shofftstall

after a while, you learn the subtle difference

between holding a hand and chaining a soul

and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning

and company doesn't mean security

and you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts

and presents aren't promises

and you begin to accept your defeats

with your head up and your eyes open

with the grace of an adult not the grief of a child

and you learn to build all your roads on today

because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans

after a while

you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much

so plant your own garden and decorate your own soul

instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers

and you learn that you really can endure

that you really are strong

and you really do have worth

 

and this naman... when you're already empowered and happy about who you are

 

AFTER "AFTER A WHILE"

After 'after a while'

You want to hold a hand not to chain a soul

but to enjoy its company,

and you want someone's lips to kiss,

not because you are lonely but because you are happy,

and you want to give presents and you want to make promises.

After 'after a while'

You begin to accept your defeats like an adult,

but like a child, will want someone to listen and care,

and you want someone who will build roads with you today

so maybe you can pave the way for your future together.

After 'after a while'

You want someone's sunshine and warmth,

but also accept the rain and the cold,

and you want to give flowers picked from your own garden.

And when your garden is picture perfect,

you want it to be more than a picture

even if it means having to be imperfect

because you want someone in it to stay and to live.

Then you'll see that there is such a thing as love...

and that you were made to live in someone else's garden...

and you'll know that there is more to life than yourself.

Edited July 30, 2004 by DELISYUS

[Grimace]

hi..im a pablo neruda fan and we both love the ocean , i would love to share this to all of you ,its called ENIGMAS

 

You've asked me what the lobster is weaving there with

his golden feet?

I reply, the ocean knows this.

You say, what is the ascidia waiting for in its transparent

bell? What is it waiting for?

I tell you it is waiting for time, like you.

You ask me whom the Macrocystis alga hugs in its arms?

Study, study it, at a certain hour, in a certain sea I know.

You question me about the wicked tusk of the narwhal,

and I reply by describing

how the sea unicorn with the harpoon in it dies.

You enquire about the kingfisher's feathers,

which tremble in the pure springs of the southern tides?

Or you've found in the cards a new question touching on

the crystal architecture

of the sea anemone, and you'll deal that to me now?

You want to understand the electric nature of the ocean

spines?

The armored stalactite that breaks as it walks?

The hook of the angler fish, the music stretched out

in the deep places like a thread in the water?

 

I want to tell you the ocean knows this, that life in its

jewel boxes

is endless as the sand, impossible to count, pure,

and among the blood-colored grapes time has made the

petal

hard and shiny, made the jellyfish full of light

and untied its knot, letting its musical threads fall

from a horn of plenty made of infinite mother-of-pearl.

 

I am nothing but the empty net which has gone on ahead

of human eyes, dead in those darknesses,

of fingers accustomed to the triangle, longitudes

on the timid globe of an orange.

 

I walked around as you do, investigating

the endless star,

and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked,

the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind.

[Magaling]

Para kila broke, WyldChik, quickie, freakish, Nene, ladydredd, at Raintribe at sa mga kababaihang madalas mag-post sa Mailbox:

 

Seventeen Warnings in Search of a Feminist Poem

by Erica Jong

 

1. Beware of the man who denounces ambition; his fingers itch under his gloves.

 

2. Beware of the man who denounces war through clenched teeth.

 

3. Beware of the man who denounces women writers; his penis is tiny and cannot spell.

 

4. Beware of the man who wants to protect you; he will protect you from everything but himself.

 

5. Beware of the man who loves to cook; he will fill your kitchen with greasy pots.

 

6. Beware of the man who loves your soul; he is a bullshitter.

 

7. Beware of the man who denounces his mother; he is a son of a bitch.

 

8. Beware of the man who spells son of a bitch as one word; he is a hack.

 

9. Beware of the man who loves death too well; he is taking out insurance.

 

10. Beware of the man who loves life too well; he is a fool.

 

11. Beware of the man who denounces psychiatrists; he is afraid.

 

12. Beware of the man who trusts psychiatrists; he is in hock.

 

13. Beware of the man who picks your dresses; he wants to wear them.

 

14. Beware of the man you think is harmless; he will surprise you.

 

15. Beware of the man who cares for nothing but books; he will run like a trickle of ink.

 

16. Beware of the man who writers flowery love letters; he is preparing for years of silence.

 

17. Beware of the man who praises liberated women; he is planning to quit his job.

[Magaling]

Para kila broke, WyldChik, quickie, freakish, Nene, ladydredd, at Raintribe at sa mga kababaihang madalas mag-post sa Mailbox:

Para din kila misteriosa at lusciousmilk . . .

[a_ngel]

Para kila broke, WyldChik, quickie, freakish, Nene, ladydredd, at Raintribe at sa mga kababaihang madalas mag-post sa Mailbox: 

 

Seventeen Warnings in Search of a Feminist Poem

by Erica Jong

nice! :cool: he he he

 

tenchyu?

[moonflower]

Para din kila misteriosa at lusciousmilk . . .

 

thanks, friend. basahin ko nga.

[Raintribe]

Para kila broke, WyldChik, quickie, freakish, Nene, ladydredd, at Raintribe at sa mga kababaihang madalas mag-post sa Mailbox: 

 

Seventeen Warnings in Search of a Feminist Poem

by Erica Jong

applause.....

[Magaling]

Here's another Neruda in Tagalog:

 

Nais Kong Ika'y Mawalang-Tinag

Nais kong ika’y mawalang-tinag

Na tila ba ikaw ay wala sa paligid

At naririnig mo lamang ako sa dakong malayo

At tinig ko’y di dumadampi sa iyo

 

Wari’ng mga mata mo’y nagsisipagliparan

At wari’ng isang halik ang tumakip sa iyong bibig

Tulad nang kalahatang pinuno ng aking kaluluwa

Ika’y lumitaw sa mga bagay-bagay

 

Pinuno ng aking diwa

Ikaw ang aking kariwaan

Isang paru-parong bumukal sa panaginip

At ika’y tulad ng salitang: Kapighatian

 

Nais kong ika’y mawalang-tinag

At ika’y tila pagkalayo-layo

Sa pandinig ko ika’y waring nananangis

Paru-parong humuhuni, gaya ng kalapati

At ako’y narinig mo mula sa malayo

At yaring tinig ko'y di umaabot sa iyo

 

Bayaang ako’y puma-sayo’t mawalang-tinag sa iyong pananahimik

At hayaang ako’y makipag-usap sa iyong di pag-imik

Na siyang sing-linaw ng isang lampara

Payak tulad ng isang yaring singsing

 

Ika’y tulad ng gabi

Kalubkob ng katahimikan at yaong mga bituin

Katahimikan mo’y gaya ng sa isang tala

Sing layo at sing tapat

 

Nais kong ika’y mawalang-tinag

Na tila ba ikaw ay wala sa paligid

Malayo at puno ng abang kalungkutan

Kung magkagayon nga'y ikaw ay papanaw

Isang salita kung magkagayon, isang ngiti ay sapat

At ako’y maligaya

Maligayang yaon ay walang katotohanan

Edited October 5, 2004 by Magaling

[Z]

From a friend...

 

Mindf**k

 

Feel nothing of the pain crawling on to my body

For a glimpse beyond the heat of fantasy

To fill my mouth with bittersweet agony

A game lost between you and me

In serenity, I watch the sight of each chance drift

Of the clouds unweigh, of a vague picture shift

But if a hint of IF's for once sounds right;

If fearless cry must pass across his lie,

If my feet stop to dance over his plead of a distance,

If our gap halts to deprive our numbers side by side,

If a gush of time snaps me forth to your pride,

Would it lead me into your arms forever tonight?

 

by KA

8 December 2004

[Guest temperamental]

If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

[Magaling]

If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

 

Wala akong magawa kaya naiisipan kong Tagalugin

 

May isang bagay na nais kong malaman mo

Batid mo kung paano'ng

kapag ako’y tumingin

sa kristal na buwan, sa mapulang sanga

ng mabagal na taglagas sa aking bintana

kapag ako’y humipo

malapit sa apoy

ang di-masaling na abo

o ang kunutang katawan ng troso,

lahat ay naghahatid sa akin tungo sa iyo

wari’ng lahat ng kalikhaan,

mga samyo, magaan, kabakalan,

ay tila maliliit na balsang

lumalayag

tungo sa ‘yong mga pulong nag-aabang sa akin

 

Kung gayon, ngayon,

kung paunti-unting ika’y hihinto nang pag-ibig sa akin

Ako ma’y paunti-unting titigil nang pagsinta sa iyo

 

Sakaling kagyat

ika’y lumimot sa ‘kin

ako’y huwag mong nang hanapin

pagkat ako kung gayo’y lumimot na rin sa iyo

 

Kung iyo’ng pag-isipan ng matagal at masidhi

ang ihip ng mga layag

na dumaraan sa ‘king buhay

at ikaw na nagpasyang

ako’y iwan sa dalampasigan

ng puso kung saan ako’y nag-ugat,

alalahanin

na sa araw ngang yaon,

sa oras na yaon,

itataas ko’ng yaring mga bisig

at mga ugat ay mabubunot

upang humanap ng ibang lupa

 

Subalit

kung sa bawat araw,

bawat oras

nababatid mo’ng ika’y nakatakda sa akin

nang walang sing-tamis,

kapag sa bawa’t araw isang bulaklak

ang namamanhik sa’yong mga labi upang ako’y hanapin,

o aking irog, o aking giliw

sa akin ang lahat ng init ay nauulit

sa aki’y walang natutupok o nalilimutan

pag-ibig ko’y nabubuhay sa’yong pagmamahal, sinta,

at habang ika’y buhay ito’y lagi sa’yong yakap

nang di rin naman nawawala sa'king piling

Edited December 15, 2004 by Magaling

[solidus019]

The voyeur, the peeper, the Peeping Tom, is a dark

comedian. He is repulsive in his dark anonymity,

in his secret invasion. He is pitifully alone.

But, strangely, he is able through this same silence

and concealment to make unknowing partner of

anyone

within his eye's range. This is his threat and

power.

 

J. Morrison

[solidus019]

I WANT TO TELL YOU

 

I want to tell you about

Texas Radio & the Big Beat

 

it comes out of the Virginia Swamps

cool & slow

w/plenty of precision

& a back beat narrow

& hard to master

some call it heavenly

in its brilliance

others mean & rueful

of the Western dream

 

I love the friends I have

gathered together

On this thin raft

we have constructed pyramids

in honor of our escaping

This is the land where

The pharaoh died---

Children

The river contains specimens

The voices of singing women

call us on the far shore

 

& they are saying

"Forget the Night

live w/us in Forests

of azure" (meagre food for

souls forgot)

 

I tell you this;

no eternal reward will

forgive us now for

wasting the dawn

 

One morning you awoke

& the strange sun

& opening your door ...

 

J. Morrison

[solidus019]

Sometimes I feel like I can't even sing (say, say, the light)

I'm very scared for this world

I'm very scared for me

Eviscerate your memory

Here's a scene

You're in the back seat laying down

The windows wrap around

To sound of the travel and the engine

All you hear is time stand still in travel

and feel such peace and absolute

The stillness still that doesn't end

But slowly drifts into sleep

The stars are the greatest thing you've ever seen

And they're there for you

For you alone you are the everything

 

I think about this world a lot and I cry

And I've seen the films and the eyes

But I'm in this kitchen

Everything is beautiful

And she is so beautiful

She is so young and old

I look at her and I see the beauty

Of the light of music

The voices talking somewhere in the house

Late spring and you're drifting off to sleep

With your teeth in your mouth

You are here with me

You are here with me

You have been here and you are everything

 

Sometimes I feel like I can't even sing (say, say, the light)

I'm very scared for this world

I'm very scared for me

Eviscerate your memory

Here's a scene

You're in the back seat laying down

The windows wrap around

To sound of the travel and the engine

All you hear is time stand still in travel

and feel such peace and absolute

The stillness still that doesn't end

But slowly drifts into sleep

The stars are the greatest thing you've ever seen

And they're there for you

For you alone you are the everything

 

m. stipe

[Grimace]

Visceral response or intellectual appeal, rapturous melodiousness or artful crafting of the language; whatever it may have been, what poem moved you the most?

 

Here's a poem that struck me. I don't know if it is the best... but I go back to it again and again. I remember being thirteen years old and in a classroom (cold, badly painted, small) and feeling an almost physical shock at this poem and totally awed by his genius. I was thrilled by the words then, and I still am; the title is perfection. The villanelle form of day and night and their symbolic rhymes is the best. Mostly I liked the way it offered an interesting perspective: a good way to live and die and even more, a child offering advice to a parent. Just good stuff. I like the images: green bay, meteors and wild men. I have continued to like the author and his works... Dylan Thomas. Yeah, I like this poem!

 

“Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night”

 

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

[Metroman]

Winnie the Pooh's simple poetry is such a respite when I was young.

 

I still read it today, when the hustle and bustle of life, gets to me.

 

Us Two

Winnie the Pooh

A.A. Milne

 

Wherever I am, there's always Pooh,

There's always Pooh and Me.

Whatever I do, he wants to do,

"Where are you going today?" says Pooh:

"Well, that's very odd 'cos I was too.

Let's go together," says Pooh, says he.

"Let's go together," says Pooh.

 

"What's twice eleven?" I said to Pooh.

("Twice what?" said Pooh to Me.)

"I think it ought to be twenty-two."

"Just what I think myself," said Pooh.

"It wasn't an easy sum to do,

But that's what it is," said Pooh, said he.

"That's what it is," said Pooh.

 

"Let's look for dragons," I said to Pooh.

"Yes, let's," said Pooh to Me.

We crossed the river and found a few-

"Yes, those are dragons all right," said Pooh.

"As soon as I saw their beaks I knew.

That's what they are," said Pooh, said he.

 

"That's what they are," said Pooh.

 

"Let's frighten the dragons," I said to Pooh.

"That's right," said Pooh to Me.

"I'm not afraid," I said to Pooh,

And I held his paw and I shouted "Shoo!

Silly old dragons!"- and off they flew.

 

"I wasn't afraid," said Pooh, said he,

"I'm never afraid with you."

 

So wherever I am, there's always Pooh,

There's always Pooh and Me.

"What would I do?" I said to Pooh,

"If it wasn't for you," and Pooh said: "True,

It isn't much fun for One, but Two,

Can stick together, says Pooh, says he.

"That's how it is," says Pooh.

[George Estregan Lives]

I first encountered this poem way back in college. Up to now, Neruda's words still affect me.

 

I'm Explaining a Few Things

 

You are going to ask: and where are the lilacs?

and the poppy-petalled metaphysics?

and the rain repeatedly spattering

its words and drilling them full

of apertures and birds?

I'll tell you all the news.

 

I lived in a suburb,

a suburb of Madrid, with bells,

and clocks, and trees.

 

From there you could look out

over Castille's dry face:

a leather ocean.

My house was called

the house of flowers, because in every cranny

geraniums burst: it was

a good-looking house

with its dogs and children.

Remember, Raul?

Eh, Rafel? Federico, do you remember

from under the ground

my balconies on which

the light of June drowned flowers in your mouth?

Brother, my brother!

Everything

loud with big voices, the salt of merchandises,

pile-ups of palpitating bread,

the stalls of my suburb of Arguelles with its statue

like a drained inkwell in a swirl of hake:

oil flowed into spoons,

a deep baying

of feet and hands swelled in the streets,

metres, litres, the sharp

measure of life,

stacked-up fish,

the texture of roofs with a cold sun in which

the weather vane falters,

the fine, frenzied ivory of potatoes,

wave on wave of tomatoes rolling down the sea.

 

And one morning all that was burning,

one morning the bonfires

leapt out of the earth

devouring human beings --

and from then on fire,

gunpowder from then on,

and from then on blood.

Bandits with planes and Moors,

bandits with finger-rings and duchesses,

bandits with black friars spattering blessings

came through the sky to k*ll children

and the blood of children ran through the streets

without fuss, like children's blood.

 

Jackals that the jackals would despise,

stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out,

vipers that the vipers would abominate!

 

Face to face with you I have seen the blood

of Spain tower like a tide

to drown you in one wave

of pride and knives!

 

Treacherous

generals:

see my dead house,

look at broken Spain :

from every house burning metal flows

instead of flowers,

from every socket of Spain

Spain emerges

and from every dead child a rifle with eyes,

and from every crime bullets are born

which will one day find

the bull's eye of your hearts.

 

And you'll ask: why doesn't his poetry

speak of dreams and leaves

and the great volcanoes of his native land?

 

Come and see the blood in the streets.

Come and see

The blood in the streets.

Come and see the blood

In the streets!

[strangedays]

Memento

-- Yevgeny Yevtushenko

 

Like a reminder of this life

of trams, sun, sparrows,

and the flighty uncontrolledness

of streams leaping like thermometers,

and because ducks are quacking somewhere

above the crackling of the last, paper-thin ice,

and because children are crying bitterly

(remember children's lives are so sweet!)

and because in the drunken, shimmering starlight

the new moon whoops it up,

and a stocking crackles a bit at the knee,

gold in itself and tinged by the sun,

like a reminder of life,

and because there is resin on tree trunks,

and because I was madly mistaken

in thinking that my life was over,

like a reminder of my life -

you entered into me on stockinged feet.

You entered - neither too late nor too early -

at exactly the right time, as my very own,

and with a smile, uprooted me

from memories, as from a grave.

And I, once again whirling among

the painted horses, gladly exchange,

for one reminder of life,

all its memories.

[missmanners]

shel silverstein is probably my favorite poet of all time. i credit him for upping my love for literature. well, him and roald dahl actually. as a young child, his poetry is catchy enough to have kept me interested... plus they all come in picture books with illustrations by the author himself. i found it so delicious actually when, after a few years on my head, i learned that mr. silverstein also illustrated comics for playboy.

 

i've slowly collected all his books over the years and intend to give it to my kids and then grandkids one day. because if there's anything i'm glad my parents gave me, it was love for reading.

 

here's a few of the shortest and sweetest.

 

Woulda-Coulda-Shoulda

All the Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas

Layin' in the sun,

Talkin' 'bout the things

They woulda coulda shoulda done...

But those Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas

All ran away and hid

From one little Did.

 

 

How Many, How Much

How many slams in an old screen door?

Depends how loud you shut it.

How many slices in a bread?

Depends how thin you cut it.

How much good inside a day?

Depends how good you live 'em.

How much love inside a friend?

Depends how much you give 'em.

 

 

The Land of Happy

Have you been to the land of happy,

Where everyone's happy all day,

Where they joke and they sing

Of the happiest things,

And everything's jolly and gay?

There's no one unhappy in Happy

There's laughter and smiles galore.

I have been to The Land of Happy-

What a bore!

 

:flowers:

[Magaling]

I have this poem framed on my study table:

 

INVICTUS

by William Ernest Henley. 1849–1903

 

OUT of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

 

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

 

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

[LB]

Two of My Favorite Pablo Neruda Poems are I Like For You To Be Still and ....

 

Ode to a Beautiful Nude

Full woman, flesh-apple, hot moon,

thick smell of seaweed, mud and light in masquerade,

what secret clarity opens through your columns?

What ancient night does a man touch with his senses?

 

Oh, love is a journey with water and stars,

with drowning air and storms of flour;

love is a clash of lightnings,

two bodies subdued by one honey.

 

Kiss by kiss I travel your little infinity,

your borders, your rivers, your tiny villages;

and a genital fire--transformed, delicious--

 

slips through the narrow roadways of the blood

till it pours itself, quick, like a night carnation, till it is:

and is nothing, in shadow, and a flimmer of light.

 

***buy the ost of 'Il Postino' for the interpretation of various artists like Glenn Close and Madonna

[schizo_sublime]

My favorite is Tonight I can write the saddest lines by Pablo Neruda which has been posted previously.