It is currently Sat Jun 24, 2017 6:27 pm

All times are UTC + 1 hour





Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 58 posts ]  Go to page Previous  1, 2
  Print view Previous topic | Next topic 
Author Message
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Fri Jul 16, 2010 10:42 am 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Sun Feb 01, 2009 3:35 pm
Posts: 582
Location: 71
Michel Clos - Painter and poet - http://www.michel-clos.com/english/biographie.htm
A Mot Découverts. Paintings and poems/play on words dedicated to a lost love

C’est toujours ‘demain’ que tu viens,
Quand ce soir je te crie : ‘Je t’aime !’
--------------------------------------------
‘Verbiage….’

Je fleur,
Tu fleurs,
Il fleurt,
Nous fleurons,
Vous fleurtez,
Et nous conjugaisons…….

Je pleure,
Tu pleures,
Il pleut……
Nous pleurons,
Vous pleuvez,
Ils mouillent……

(Sémantique )
Je sème
Tu sèmes
On s’aime…..
Et nous récolterons….
----------------------------------------------

Roi déchu, il ne me reste
Que ma couronne……
D’or gris,
Au fond du ‘palais’,
A droite……… !
----------------------------------------------
S’ouvrir les veines…..
Ouvrir les vannes
De la libération,
Docteur, est-ce-que ca fait mal ?

Stopper les peines,
Stopper les pannes,
Les hallucinations,
Docteur, est-ce-que ca fait mal ?

Laisser pourrir,
Laisser mourir……
La réanimation,
Docteur, est-ce-que ca fait peur?

Perdre son âme
Pour une femme…..
Sans…. ‘distinction’,
Docteur, est-ce-que ca fait ‘con’ ?

_________________
"...……. et jusqu’a ma mort je me rappellerai chaque seconde de ce matin de janvier."


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Fri Jul 16, 2010 1:32 pm 
Offline

Joined: Sun Feb 01, 2009 11:21 am
Posts: 66
Location: Monflanquin, Lot et Garonne
What a wonderful selection of poetry!

Not sure if I've got any real favorites but these hot summer days remind me of two much loved poems. The first one is in German (and I've stuck a poor translation under it....)

Feldeinsamkeit by Hermann Allmers

Ich ruhe still im hohen grünen Gras
Und sende lange meinen Blick nach oben,
Von Grillen rings umschwirrt ohn Unterlaß,
Von Himmelsbläue wundersam umwoben.

Die schönen weißen Wolken ziehn dahin
Durchs tiefe Blau, wie schöne stille Träume;
Mir ist, als ob ich längst gestorben bin
Und ziehe selig mit durch ew'ge Räume.

Which roughly translates as:

Peaceful Solitude of the Field

I rest quietly in the tall green grass
And for a long time send my gaze aloft,
Surrounded by the unceasing whirr of crickets,
Enfolded wondrously by blue sky.

The lovely white clouds drift by
Through the deep blue, like beautiful, silent dreams;
I feel as though I am long dead
And drift blissfully along through eternal space.


The other poem is by Emily Dickinson:

A something in a summer's Day

A something in a summer's Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.

A something in a summer's noon --
A depth -- an Azure -- a perfume --
Transcending ecstasy.

And still within a summer's night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see --

Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle -- shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me --

The wizard fingers never rest --
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed --

Still rears the East her amber Flag --
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red --

So looking on -- the night -- the morn
Conclude the wonder gay --
And I meet, coming thro' the dews
Another summer's Day!


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Sun Sep 05, 2010 9:06 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Sat Jan 31, 2009 3:34 pm
Posts: 6155
Location: l'Hérault
another favourite Bukowski called Nirvana


not much chance,
completely cut loose from
purpose,
he was a young man
riding a bus
through North Carolina
on the way to somewhere
and it began to snow
and the bus stopped
at a little cafe
in the hills
and the passengers
entered.
he sat at the counter
with the others,
he ordered and the
food arived.
the meal was
particularly
good
and the
coffee.
the waitress was
unlike the women
he had
known.
she was unaffected,
there was a natural
humor which came
from her.
the fry cook said
crazy things.
the dishwasher.
in back,
laughed, a good
clean
pleasant
laugh.
the young man watched
the snow through the
windows.
he wanted to stay
in that cafe
forever.
the curious feeling
swam through him
that everything
was
beautiful
there,
that it would always
stay beautiful
there.
then the bus driver
told the passengers
that it was time
to board.
the young man
thought, I'll just sit
here, I'll just stay
here.
but then
he rose and followed
the others into the
bus.
he found his seat
and looked at the cafe
through the bus
window.
then the bus moved
off, down a curve,
downward, out of
the hills.
the young man
looked straight
forward.
he heard the other
passengers
speaking
of other things,
or they were
reading
or
attempting to
sleep.
they had not
noticed
the
magic.
the young man
put his head to
one side,
closed his
eyes,
pretended to
sleep.
there was nothing
else to do-
just to listen to the
sound of the
engine,
the sound of the
tires
in the
snow.

_________________
http://bikesandpaint.blogspot.com/


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Sun Sep 05, 2010 10:40 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Sun Feb 22, 2009 5:26 pm
Posts: 2518
One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop


The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

_________________
Human history becomes more and more a race between education and catastrophe.
(H G Wells)


I.C.U...............Jimmy........20/20 vision.


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Sun Sep 05, 2010 11:04 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Apr 07, 2009 12:12 pm
Posts: 784
Lord Byron
CLXXIII. "She walks in beauty, like the night"

SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meets in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o'er her face,
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow
But tell of days in goodness spent,—
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Mon Sep 06, 2010 11:07 am 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Sun Feb 01, 2009 12:58 pm
Posts: 1090
Location: Norwich, Anglia de l'est et la république de francophilie
Aeons ago I got into terrible trouble at my (religious) school for writing, tongue firmly in cheek, that Byron's Don Juan was the greatest poem ever written in the English language. Now that I'm older and, I hope, wiser I've gradually come to the conclusion that my facetiously expressed adolescent opinion held more than a grain of truth (I've posted a link to the poem because it's too long to quote).

_________________
"It's turtles all the way down".


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Mon Sep 06, 2010 12:53 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Apr 07, 2009 12:12 pm
Posts: 784
FredM wrote:
Aeons ago I got into terrible trouble at my (religious) school for writing, tongue firmly in cheek, that Byron's Don Juan was the greatest poem ever written in the English language. Now that I'm older and, I hope, wiser I've gradually come to the conclusion that my facetiously expressed adolescent opinion held more than a grain of truth (I've posted a link to the poem because it's too long to quote).


I think Byron is generally underrated as a poet. Understandably his biography tends to overshadow his poetry.


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Mon Sep 06, 2010 12:54 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Apr 07, 2009 12:12 pm
Posts: 784
Hmmm - I only seem to remember poems which came in useful wooing my fellow undergraduates....

The Mistress - John Rochester

An age in her embraces passed
Would seem a winter's day;
When life and light, with envious haste,
Are torn and snatched away.

But, oh! how slowly minutes roll.
When absent from her eyes
That feed my love, which is my soul,
It languishes and dies.

For then no more a soul but shade
It mournfully does move
And haunts my breast, by absence made
The living tomb of love.

You wiser men despise me not,
Whose love-sick fancy raves
On shades of souls and Heaven knows what;
Short ages live in graves.

Whene'er those wounding eyes, so full
Of sweetness, you did see,
Had you not been profoundly dull,
You had gone mad like me.

Nor censure us, you who perceive
My best beloved and me
Sign and lament, complain and grieve;
You think we disagree.

Alas, 'tis sacred jealousy,
Love raised to an extreme;
The only proof 'twixt her and me,
We love, and do not dream.

Fantastic fancies fondly move
And in frail joys believe,
Taking false pleasure for true love;
But pain can ne'er deceive.

Kind jealous doubts, tormenting fears,
And anxious cares when past,
Prove our heart's treasure fixed and dear,
And make us blessed at last.


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Mon Sep 06, 2010 3:07 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Sun Feb 01, 2009 12:58 pm
Posts: 1090
Location: Norwich, Anglia de l'est et la république de francophilie
raoh wrote:
FredM wrote:
Aeons ago I got into terrible trouble at my (religious) school for writing, tongue firmly in cheek, that Byron's Don Juan was the greatest poem ever written in the English language. Now that I'm older and, I hope, wiser I've gradually come to the conclusion that my facetiously expressed adolescent opinion held more than a grain of truth (I've posted a link to the poem because it's too long to quote).


I think Byron is generally underrated as a poet. Understandably his biography tends to overshadow his poetry.


Absolutely agree, Byron tends to be underrated. As an aside, and as this is a French forum, it's worth noting that his poetry had a strong influence on the music of Berlioz.

_________________
"It's turtles all the way down".


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Mon Sep 06, 2010 9:23 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Sun Feb 22, 2009 5:26 pm
Posts: 2518
THE HUG (Thom Gunn)

It was your birthday, we had drunk and dined
Half of the night with our old friend
Who'd showed us in the end
To a bed I reached in one drunk stride.
Already I lay snug,
And drowsy with the wine dozed on one side.

I dozed, I slept. My sleep broke on a hug,
Suddenly, from behind,
In which the full lengths of our bodies pressed:
Your instep to my heel,
My shoulder-blades against your chest.
It was not sex, but I could feel
The whole strength of your body set,
Or braced, to mine,
And locking me to you
As if we were still twenty-two
When our grand passion had not yet
Become familial.
My quick sleep had deleted all
Of intervening time and place.
I only knew
The stay of your secure firm dry embrace.

_________________
Human history becomes more and more a race between education and catastrophe.
(H G Wells)


I.C.U...............Jimmy........20/20 vision.


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Mon Sep 06, 2010 10:15 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Apr 07, 2009 12:12 pm
Posts: 784
rebus wrote:
THE HUG (Thom Gunn)

It was your birthday, we had drunk and dined
Half of the night with our old friend
Who'd showed us in the end
To a bed I reached in one drunk stride.
Already I lay snug,
And drowsy with the wine dozed on one side.

I dozed, I slept. My sleep broke on a hug,
Suddenly, from behind,
In which the full lengths of our bodies pressed:
Your instep to my heel,
My shoulder-blades against your chest.
It was not sex, but I could feel
The whole strength of your body set,
Or braced, to mine,
And locking me to you
As if we were still twenty-two
When our grand passion had not yet
Become familial.
My quick sleep had deleted all
Of intervening time and place.
I only knew
The stay of your secure firm dry embrace.


Wonderful


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Mon Sep 06, 2010 10:34 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Wed Dec 16, 2009 12:42 pm
Posts: 3982
Location: West Africa and the West Country
Being your slave what should I do but tend
Upon the hours, and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend;
Nor services to do, till you require.

Nor dare I chide the world without end hour,
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour,
When you have bid your servant once adieu;

Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought
Save, where you are, how happy you make those.

So true a fool is love, that in your will,
Though you do anything, he thinks no ill.

Shakespeare ... Sonnets ... No 57

_________________
Do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers. Pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you shall be the miracle.
-- Phillips Brooks


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Tue Sep 07, 2010 3:46 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Sun Feb 01, 2009 5:09 pm
Posts: 1549
Location: Hampshire and Cotes D'Armor (22)
This one's by Roger McGough:

When the bus stopped suddenly
to avoid damaging
a mother and child in the road,
the younglady in the green hat sitting opposite,
was thrown across me,
and not being one to miss an opportunity
I started to make love.
At first, she resisted,
saying that it was too early in the morning,
and too soon after breakfast,
and anyway, she found me repulsive.
But when I explained
that this being a nuclearage
the world was going to end at lunchtime,
she took off her green hat,
put her busticket into her pocket
and joined in the exercise.

The buspeople,
and there were many of them,
were shockedandsurprised,
and amusedandannoyed.
But when the word got around
that the world was going to end at lunchtime,
they put their pride in their pockets
with their bustickets
and made love one with the other.
And even the busconductor,
feeling left out,
climbed into the cab,
and struck up some sort of relationship with the driver.

That night,
on the bus coming home,
we were all a little embarrassed.
Especially me and the younglady in the green hat.
And we all started to say
in different ways
how hasty and foolish we had been.
But then, always having been a bitofalad,
I stood up and said it was a pity
that the world didnt nearly end every lunchtime,
and that we could always pretend.
And then it happened ...

Quick asa crash
we all changed partners,
and soon the bus was aquiver
with white, mothball bodies doing naughty things.

And the next day
and everyday
In everybus
In everystreet
In everytown
In everycountry

People pretended
that the world was coming to an end at lunchtime.
It still hasnt.
Although in a way it has.


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Fri Nov 19, 2010 11:59 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Fri Jun 25, 2010 12:43 pm
Posts: 739
Location: south 16
For my Funeral please read-

Rupert Brooke
The Soldier
IF I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by the suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

_________________
Just because I do things differently to you - doesn't make me wrong- just alternative!


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Sat Nov 20, 2010 12:07 am 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Wed Dec 16, 2009 12:42 pm
Posts: 3982
Location: West Africa and the West Country
Binyon, fourth verse:

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them.

_________________
Do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers. Pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you shall be the miracle.
-- Phillips Brooks


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Sat Nov 20, 2010 12:09 am 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Fri Jun 25, 2010 12:43 pm
Posts: 739
Location: south 16
We will remember them.

_________________
Just because I do things differently to you - doesn't make me wrong- just alternative!


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Sat Nov 20, 2010 12:26 am 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Sun Feb 01, 2009 1:16 pm
Posts: 2232
I learnt this at school and still love it now

The Listeners
by Walter De La Mare

'Is there anybody there?' said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
Of the forest's ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller's head
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
'Is there anybody there?' he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller's call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
'Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:-
'Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,' he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.

The Listeners
by Walter De La Mare


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 7:42 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Mon Feb 02, 2009 3:57 pm
Posts: 3327
Location: Sussex and Cantal
I like Betjeman, and therefore am accused of not liking poetry. I always loved "A Russell Flint":
I could not speak for amazement at your beauty
As you came, down the Garrick stair,
Grey-green eyes like the turbulent Atlantic
And floppy schoolgirl hair.

I could see you in a Sussex teashop,
Dressed in peasant weave and brogues,
Turning over, as firelight shone on brassware,
Last year’s tea-stained Vogues.

I could see you as a large-eyed student,
Frowning as you tried to learn,
Or, head flung back, the confident girl prefect,
Thrillingly kind and stern.

I could not speak for amazement at your beauty;
Yet when you spoke to me,
You were calm and gentle as a rock pool
Waiting, warm, for the sea.

Wave on wave, I plunged in them to meet you -
In wave on wave I drown;
Calm rock pool, on the shore of my security
Hold me when the tide goes down.

I think that there is something very true and wonderful about the line "thrillingly kind and stern."


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 7:46 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Mon Feb 02, 2009 3:57 pm
Posts: 3327
Location: Sussex and Cantal
My other favourite of Betjeman's is "The Plansters Vision." This was written in despair at the wanton destruction of the architectural heritage of the country. The use of the word "chum" describes the ghastliness of the people who foisted, and still foist their own horrible distopian visions on the rest of us.

Cut down that timber! Bells, too many and strong,
Pouring their music through the branches bare,
From moon-white church-towers down the windy air
Have pealed the centuries out with Evensong.
Remove those cottages, a huddled throng!
Too many babies have been born in there,
Too many coffins, bumping down the stair,
Carried the old their garden paths along.

I have a Vision of The Future, chum,
The worker's flats in fields of soya beans
Tower up like silver pencils, score on score:
And Surging Millions hear the Challenge come
From microphones in communal canteens
"No Right! No wrong! All's perfect, evermore."


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Thu Apr 25, 2013 8:28 am 
Offline
Site Admin
User avatar

Joined: Fri Feb 05, 2010 9:57 am
Posts: 5976
Location: 64100 Bayonne
This is too good a thread to gather dust. Some poems are better if read aloud - this is one:

Tarantella

Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the tedding and the spreading
Of the straw for a bedding,
And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees,
And the wine that tasted of tar?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
(Under the vine of the dark veranda)?
Do you remember an Inn, Miranda,
Do you remember an Inn?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
Who hadn't got a penny,
And who weren't paying any,
And the hammer at the doors and the din?
And the hip! hop! hap!
Of the clap
Of the hands to the swirl and the twirl
Of the girl gone chancing,
Glancing,
Dancing,
Backing and advancing,
Snapping of the clapper to the spin
Out and in--
And the ting, tong, tang of the guitar!
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?

Never more;
Miranda,
Never more.
Only the high peaks hoar;
And Aragon a torrent at the door.
No sound
In the walls of the halls where falls
The tread
Of the feet of the dead to the ground,
No sound:
But the boom
Of the far waterfall like doom.

Hilaire Belloc

_________________
These are the Good Old Days

http://piperade-thecompleatanglo.blogspot.com/


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Thu Apr 25, 2013 10:46 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Mon Feb 13, 2012 6:23 pm
Posts: 40
And Once!
Were it for all time,
Or never
Eternal perhaps.
Since, what were we. always fleeting,
Never meeting.
At least Not Tuesdays.
Did it seem so or maybe not
A bird on the wing
The string of the guitar, Ping!
Transience
From the rooftops scream
In restless sleep dream.
Brothers, sisters, r
eally.
Rust or iron oxide.
Irrelevance, for finally we all abide.

C.W.


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Fri Apr 26, 2013 1:01 pm 
Offline
Site Admin
User avatar

Joined: Fri Feb 05, 2010 9:57 am
Posts: 5976
Location: 64100 Bayonne
Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be that we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved heaven and earth; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

From Ulysses - Alfred, Lord Tennyson

_________________
These are the Good Old Days

http://piperade-thecompleatanglo.blogspot.com/


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject: Re: Your favourite poems.
PostPosted: Fri Apr 26, 2013 8:11 pm 
Spike Milligan

Standing Room Only

This population explosion
Said Peter to St. Paul
Is really getting far too much
Just look at the crowd in the hall.
Even here, in Heaven
There isn't any room
I think the world could do with less
Much less fruit in the womb.
Thus Heaven is overcrowded
The numbers are starting to tell
So when the next lot knock at the gates
Tell 'em to 'Go to Hell'.

Granny

Through every nook and every cranny
The wind blew in on poor old Granny
Around her knees, into each ear
(And up nose as well, I fear)

All through the night the wind grew worse
It nearly made the vicar curse
The top had fallen off the steeple
Just missing him (and other people)

It blew on man, it blew on beast
It blew on nun, it blew on priest
It blew the wig off Auntie Fanny-
But most of all, it blew on Granny!

Halved

The essence of true beauty
Lingers in all-encompassing rainbows
Of your joy and laughter

You hold my hand and smile
As we ensconce ourselves in our world of fire
Our love is all there is

I touch your face
Your gentleness astounds me
I'm held in the honour of your love

Then overnight, the wrold truns suor
61 mInnIts past the ELevenTHH HouRR
I'M A L 0 N E


Top
  
 
Display posts from previous:  Sort by  
Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 58 posts ]  Go to page Previous  1, 2

All times are UTC + 1 hour


Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest


You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot post attachments in this forum

Jump to:  



Powered by phpBB © 2000, 2002, 2005, 2007 phpBB Group
greenmiles v1.1 designed by CodeMiles Team -TemplatesDragon-.