Poetry and quotable quotes

[Erinofskye]

As a lover of words, I really think we should have a thread dedicated to poetry, prose and quotes. (If there is one already, I must have missed it) Post your favorite poems, passages, quotes, song lyrics, or even your own work. I'll start

From The Raven~ Edgar Allan Poe~ One of my favorite poets....

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

For me this poem is very visual and the cadence hypnotic. I'm convinced Dr. Seuss borrowed his rhythmic style from Poe. 

Perhaps next time I'll post one of my own works. In the meantime, I'd love to hear what everyone else enjoys word wise.

Reena

[Sergeant Rock]

As a lover of words, I really think we should have a thread dedicated to poetry, prose and quotes. (If there is one already, I must have missed it)

There is one but it's been dormant for more than a year. Antoine tried to revive it last February but failed. Here it is:

http://www.good-music-guide.com/community/index.php/topic,6213.msg149085.html#msg149085

Perhaps next time I'll post one of my own works.

Please do. Several of us have been brave enough to post original stuff. Here's one of mine:

http://www.good-music-guide.com/community/index.php/topic,6213.msg406495.html#msg406495


Sarge

[Erinofskye]

Please do. Several of us have been brave enough to post original stuff. Here's one of mine:

http://www.good-music-guide.com/community/index.php/topic,6213.msg406495.html#msg406495

Thank you for sharing Sarge! Your poem is beautiful and full of feeling which translates to the reader. 
My turn to be brave. My writings are deeply emotional as I'm sure every writers are. This particular poem was written some time ago, during a very hard time in my life. It's one of my favorites.  The focus was the feeling rather than form....


The Pit

Swirling black
Hungry
For me
Once I am in
There's no going back
I reach out
But there's no one there
To save me from myself
Strength to save myself
I am at a lack
But in this Pit there is light
Light I can feel
But cannot yet see
As I careen into this Pit
Falling like a stone
I find my reason
I find it and take it back
The Pit is my constant companion
Always at my side
Taunting and threatening
This ride I am on
Seems to never end
Yet somehow I arise again
To face the darkness
Looking for the light
Feeling it
Yet never seeing
But I will go on
Arising from the Pit like the Phoenix
From these ashes I will find the light



~Reena

[eyeresist]

There was a young man from Nantucket

[Erinofskye]

There was a young man from Nantucket

I see you like the classics....

[eyeresist]

Invictus is a poem I discovered only recently. A fine poem to declaim whilst stalking the wind-swept moors in the midst of a clamorous storm.

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.

[mc ukrneal]

Thank you for sharing Sarge! Your poem is beautiful and full of feeling which translates to the reader. 
My turn to be brave. My writings are deeply emotional as I'm sure every writers are. This particular poem was written some time ago, during a very hard time in my life. It's one of my favorites.  The focus was the feeling rather than form....


The Pit

Swirling black
Hungry
For me
Once I am in
There's no going back
I reach out
But there's no one there
To save me from myself
Strength to save myself
I am at a lack
But in this Pit there is light
Light I can feel
But cannot yet see
As I careen into this Pit
Falling like a stone
I find my reason
I find it and take it back
The Pit is my constant companion
Always at my side
Taunting and threatening
This ride I am on
Seems to never end
Yet somehow I arise again
To face the darkness
Looking for the light
Feeling it
Yet never seeing
But I will go on
Arising from the Pit like the Phoenix
From these ashes I will find the light



~Reena

I'm not usually a poetry person, but that is really quite good.

[Erinofskye]

I'm not usually a poetry person, but that is really quite good.

Why thank you!

[Lisztianwagner]

It's a beautiful idea, I'm a great lover of literature and poetry
I particularly like this poem by W. Wordsworth, very evocative and powerfully emotional, showing all the beauty of nature:

I wandered lonely as a Cloud
That floats on high o'er Vales and Hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd
A host of dancing Daffodils;
Along the Lake, beneath the trees,
Ten thousand dancing in the breeze.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee: --
A poet could not but be gay
In such a laughing company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the Daffodils.

[North Star]

Abraham Lincoln was wise man:
"Allow the president to invade a neighboring nation, whenever he shall deem it necessary to repel an invasion, and you allow him to do so whenever he may choose to say he deems it necessary for such a purpose - and you allow him to make war at pleasure."

As for poetry, some of my favourites: Frost's "Mending Wall", Stevie Smith's "Not Waving but Drowning", Shelley's "Ozymandias", Yeats's "The Lake Isle Of Innisfree", "The Second Coming"

Oliver Goldsmith:
(from The Deserted Village, 1770)

Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay;
Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade;
A breath can make them, as a breath has made;
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
When once destroyed, can never be supplied.

[Erinofskye]

Abraham Lincoln was wise man:
"Allow the president to invade a neighboring nation, whenever he shall deem it necessary to repel an invasion, and you allow him to do so whenever he may choose to say he deems it necessary for such a purpose - and you allow him to make war at pleasure."

Wise words, then and now. It's a shame such wisdom is seldom taken to heart by those in power. Thanks for sharing!

[Erinofskye]

This poem was one of those things that just kinda happened. My daughter came to me and said she felt like a dragon. These words tumbled out of me. Of course she gave me one of those "What are you talking about" looks

I Feel Like a Dragon

I feel like a dragon has tracked me down
Chased me till I'm weary to the bone

I feel like a dragon has pinned me to the earth
With his shiny black talons

I feel like a dragon has scorched my soul
With his fetid, flaming breath

I feel like a dragon has plucked me up
To gnaw upon my bones

I feel like a dragon has spit me out
Unhappy with my bitter taste

I feel like a dragon has, with one final torment
Covered me in a reign of fire

Reena

[madaboutmahler]

My favourite poem would probably be 'Porphyria's Lover' by Robert Browning.

The rain set early in tonight,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
and did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me—she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavor,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me forever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could tonight's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshiped me: surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!

This poem had such an impact on me when I first heard it, while studying it in English class at school, that I instantly started to write a musical depiction of it. Here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=htPirbptKt4

And Reena, I have read the poems of yours you have posted here, they are excellent!

[Florestan]

I wandered lonely as a Cloud
That floats on high o'er Vales and Hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd
A host of dancing Daffodils;
Along the Lake, beneath the trees,
Ten thousand dancing in the breeze.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee: --
A poet could not but be gay
In such a laughing company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the Daffodils.

One of my Wordsworth's faves as well, together with We Are Seven and The Solitary Reaper.

Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner is full of poetic gems. I am very surprised that no composer wrote a tone poem based on it.

Yeats' When You Are Old is stunningly beautiful too.

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.


For those of you who can read French here is a great one by François COPPÉE (1842-1908)

Adagio

La rue était déserte et donnait sur les champs.
Quand j'allais voir l'été les beaux soleils couchants
Avec le rêve aimé qui partout m'accompagne,
Je la suivais toujours pour gagner la campagne,
Et j'avais remarqué que, dans une maison
Qui fait l'angle et qui tient, ainsi qu'une prison,
Fermée au vent du soir son étroite persienne,
Toujours à la même heure, une musicienne
Mystérieuse, et qui sans doute habitait là,
Jouait l'adagio de la sonate en la.
Le ciel se nuançait de vert tendre et de rose.
La rue était déserte ; et le flâneur morose
Et triste, comme sont souvent les amoureux,
Qui passait, l'oeil fixé sur les gazons poudreux,
Toujours à la même heure, avait pris l'habitude
D'entendre ce vieil air dans cette solitude.
Le piano chantait sourd, doux, attendrissant,
Rempli du souvenir douloureux de l'absent
Et reprochant tout bas les anciennes extases.
Et moi, je devinais des fleurs dans de grands vases,
Des parfums, un profond et funèbre miroir,
Un portrait d'homme à l'oeil fier, magnétique et noir,
Des plis majestueux dans les tentures sombres,
Une lampe d'argent, discrète, sous les ombres,
Le vieux clavier s'offrant dans sa froide pâleur,
Et, dans cette atmosphère émue, une douleur
Épanouie au charme ineffable et physique
Du silence, de la fraîcheur, de la musique.
Le piano chantait toujours plus bas, plus bas.
Puis, un certain soir d'août, je ne l'entendis pas.

Depuis, je mène ailleurs mes promenades lentes.
Moi qui hais et qui fuis les foules turbulentes,
Je regrette parfois ce vieux coin négligé.
Mais la vieille ruelle a, dit-on, bien changé :
Les enfants d'alentour y vont jouer aux billes,
Et d'autres pianos l'emplissent de quadrilles.

[Karl Henning]

Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner is full of poetic gems. I am very surprised that no composer wrote a tone poem based on it.

That greatly astonishes me, too.

[Florestan]

That greatly astonishes me, too.

Are you not tempted? 

[Karl Henning]

Indeed, indeed.

[Lisztianwagner]

Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner is full of poetic gems. I am very surprised that no composer wrote a tone poem based on it.

I agree, Coleridge's poem is truly beautiful and deeply passionate; well, in a certain sense there are some similitudes between The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and Wagner's Der Fliegende Holländer, like the presence of a Ghost Ship condemned to wander on the sea, and love as main theme (for love and human creatures in Coleridge, instead as a way to Redemption in Wagner).

[canninator]

Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner is full of poetic gems. I am very surprised that no composer wrote a tone poem based on it.

Dude! 

http://www.youtube.com/v/t7zk4as9kzA

[Erinofskye]

It's a beautiful idea, I'm a great lover of literature and poetry
I particularly like this poem by W. Wordsworth, very evocative and powerfully emotional, showing all the beauty of nature:

I love Wordsworth too! Thanks for posting this, I hadn't read it in quite awhile.

One of my Wordsworth's faves as well, together with We Are Seven and The Solitary Reaper.

Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner is full of poetic gems. I am very surprised that no composer wrote a tone poem based on it.

Yeats' When You Are Old is stunningly beautiful too.

I love this! The Solitary Reaper is one of my favorites

My favourite poem would probably be 'Porphyria's Lover' by Robert Browning.

This poem had such an impact on me when I first heard it, while studying it in English class at school, that I instantly started to write a musical depiction of it. Here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=htPirbptKt4

And Reena, I have read the poems of yours you have posted here, they are excellent!

Daniel, your composition and interpretation is just lovely! Thank you for sharing, and thank you for the kind words