Poetry and quotable quotes

[Florestan]

Dude! 

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

I stopped it at 2:54. Poor Coleridge must be rolling in his grave: the lyrics look like "Rime of the Ancient Mariner for Dummies". As for the "music", it has no trace whatsoever of poetry, mystery and passion. That would have been a Liszt or Sibelius thing; instead we get the monotonous screaming & strumming & drumming of Iron Maiden. Thanks, but no thanks.

EDIT: If you are an Iron Maiden fan, please don't take it personally. I like some of their songs but really do think that tackling such a poem is far beyond their scope and style.

[canninator]

I stopped it at 2:54. Poor Coleridge must be rolling in his grave: the lyrics look like "Rime of the Ancient Mariner for Dummies". As for the "music", it has no trace whatsoever of poetry, mystery and passion. That would have been a Liszt or Sibelius thing; instead we get the monotonous screaming & strumming & drumming of Iron Maiden. Thanks, but no thanks.

EDIT: If you are an Iron Maiden fan, please don't take it personally. I like some of their songs but really do think that tackling such a poem is far beyond their scope and style.

No great fan, I just remembered this from my teenage years.

[Florestan]

No great fan

I feel relieved.   0:)

[madaboutmahler]

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

Thank you for your kind words, Reena!

[Erinofskye]

JW Waterhouse "Ophelia" 1889

Here is one of my poems, along with one of my favorite paintings.

The Heather

Cold and darkness all around
I'm lying in the heather
The warmth of my lover cannot be found
To shield me from the weather

I cry out in fear and alarm
I beg you to come back to me
I fear you've come to harm
I hope you've heard my plea

As I arise sunlight begins to seep
Through the mist destroying the night
And now I see the keep
My love stands there upon the wall shining like a light

His smile is like a beacon
Burning through the night
Oh what joy to awaken
To such a glorious sight


~Reena~

[Karl Henning]

That's a splendid canvas, Reena.

[North Star]

Indeed, a good poem and an excellent example of the Pre-Raphaelite style.

[Erinofskye]

One of my favorites...

    She Walks in Beauty ~Lord Byron~

         She walks in beauty, like the night
        Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
    And all that's best of dark and bright
        Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
    Thus mellowed to that tender light
        Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
                                     
    One shade the more, one ray the less,
        Had half impaired 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!

[Florestan]

Don't get me started on Byron... 

When We Two Parted

The Prisoner of Chillon

So We'll Go No More A-Roving

[Elgarian]

There are some poems that ask a question about the world and our place in it, and attempt to answer it (like Walter De la Mare's Fare Well); but I'm more drawn to those poems that pose a question and, without explicitly saying so, are themselves an answer to it - the most notable example that springs to my mind being Matthew Arnold's Dover Beach. And then there are poems whose existence is an answer to a question that isn't explicitly asked at all. Like this one, by Ted Hughes, about a moment in the evening with his young daughter, which suddenly becomes loaded with unexpected meaning that bursts outside the confines of the poem:

Full Moon and Little Frieda

A cool small evening shrunk to a dog bark and the clank of a bucket -
And you listening.
A spider's web, tense for the dew's touch.
A pail lifted, still and brimming - mirror
To tempt a first star to a tremor.

Cows are going home in the lane there, looping the hedges with their warm
wreaths of breath -
A dark river of blood, many boulders,
Balancing unspilled milk.
'Moon!' you cry suddenly, 'Moon! Moon!'

The moon has stepped back like an artist gazing amazed at a work
That points at him amazed.

[Florestan]

The Austrian poet Georg Trakl wrote some of the most hauntingly beautiful poems I've ever read.

Among my favorites:

Winter Abend

Wenn der Schnee ans Fenster fällt,
Lang die Abendglocke läutet,
Vielen ist der Tisch bereitet
Und das Haus ist wohlbestellt.

Mancher auf der Wanderschaft
Kommt ans Tor auf dunklen Pfaden.
Golden blüht der Baum der Gnaden
Aus der Erde kühlem Saft.

Wanderer tritt still herein;
Schmerz versteinert die Schwelle.
Da erglänzt in reiner Helle
Auf dem Tische Brot und Wein.

Winter Evening

At the window, the fall of snow.
It tolls long now, the evening bell.
The table is set for many, as well,
The house well-ordered, aglow.

And many from their wanderings
Arrive by dark paths at the gate.
The Tree of Grace blooms gold, if late;
From out of earth's chill sap it springs.

Traveler, enter with silent tread.
Pain has petrified the door.
Yet clean and bright on the table before
You gleam the wine, the bread.

(translated by William Ruleman)

Sommer

      Am Abend schweigt die Klage
      des Kuckucks im Wald.
     Tiefer neigt sich das Korn,
     der rote Mohn.

Schwarzes Gewitter droht
über dem Hügel.
Das alte Lied der Grille
erstirbt im Feld.

Nimmer regt sich das Laub
der Kastanie,
auf der Wendeltreppe
rauscht dein Kleid.

Stille leuchtet die Kerze
im dunkeln Zimmer.
Eine silberne Hand
löschte sie aus.

Windstille, sternlose Nacht.


Summer

At evening the complaint of the cuckoo
Grows still in the wood.
The grain bends its head deeper,
The red poppy.

Darkening thunder drives
Over the hill.
The old song of the cricket
Dies in the field.

The leaves of the chestnut tree
Stir no more.
Your clothes rustle
On the winding stair.

The candle gleams silently
In the dark room;
A silver hand
Puts the light out;

Windless, starless night.

(translated by James Wright and Robert Bly)

Musik im Mirabell

Ein Brunnen singt. Die Wolken stehn
Im klaren Blau, die weißen, zarten.
Bedächtig stille Menschen gehn
Am Abend durch den alten Garten.

Der Ahnen Marmor ist ergraut.
Ein Vogelzug streift in die Weiten.
Ein Faun mit toten Augen schaut
Nach Schatten, die ins Dunkel gleiten.

Das Laub fällt rot vom alten Baum
Und kreist herein durchs offne Fenster.
Ein Feuerschein glüht auf im Raum
Und malet trübe Angstgespenster.

Ein weißer Fremdling tritt ins Haus.
Ein Hund stürzt durch verfallene Gänge.
Die Magd löscht eine Lampe aus,
Das Ohr hört nachts Sonatenklänge.

Music in Mirabell

A fountain sings. Clouds stand
In clear blueness, white, delicate.
Silent people wander thoughtfully
Through the old garden in the evening.

The ancestors' marble has turned grey.
A line of birds streaks into the distance.
A faun with dead eyes looks
On shadows that glide into darkness.

Leaves fall red from the old tree
And rotate inside through the open window.
Firelight glows in the room
And paints dim specters of anxiety.

A white stranger enters the house.
A dog leaps through decayed lanes.
The maid extinguishes a lamp.
At night the ear hears the sounds of sonatas.

(translator unknown to me - but I think this rhymeless translation does hardly any justice to the amazing musicality of the German original)

[Ataraxia]

This one impressed me.

Acquainted with the Night by Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
A luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

[Ten thumbs]

This somehow seems appropriate:

"An apt quotation is like a lamp which flings its light over the whole sentence."
LEL

[Erinofskye]

Thought I would share this original work. This started out as a poem and ended up as song lyrics. Perhaps someday I'll post the music

Game of Fools


I see the way you look at me

To you it's all a game

I've wondered if you'd care for me

If you'd ever feel the same



With your eyes you lead me on

Keep me guessing with you smile

Do you think I'll keep loving you

My heart breaking all the while



Go ahead and smile

That smile of yours so sweet

In time I'll find another

To make my life complete



When you finally realize

We weren't just playing a game

You'll know how much you needed me

You'll have yourself to blame



So go ahead and smile

That smile so sweet and cruel

Go ahead and play your game

The lonely game of fools


~Reena~

[Florestan]

You talk about civilization, and that it shouldn't be,
Or shouldn't be the way it is.
You say everybody suffers, or the majority of everybody,
And it's because humans make things that way.
You say if things were different, we'd suffer less.
You say if things were like you want them, it would be better.
I hear you without listening.
Why should I want to listen to you?
Listening to you won't make me know any better.
If things were different, they'd be different: that's all.
If things were like you want them, they'd only be like you want them.
Oh, you and everybody else going through life
Wanting to invent a machine for making happiness!

Alberto Caeiro (Fernando Pessoa) (Translator unknown)

[Lisztianwagner]

William Wordsworth, The Solitary Reaper:

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No nightingale did ever chant
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travelers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands;
A voice so thrilling ne'er heard
In springtime from the cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?--
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago;
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of today?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

[Leo K.]

Here is an excerpt from one of my own long poems (over 50,000 words) as yet unpublished,

Working title: Zebra Manual (and will probably be the official title)

PLACEMENT OF TEMPERATURE MONITORS Where monitors are placed within the package is important since temperatures vary inside the box. Placing monitors next to the "cold" packs does not give an accurate measure of the temperature of the vaccines that are farther from the "cold" packs. Color-change monitors have adhesive backs and may be attached to vaccine cartons, or walls of the box to prevent them from moving. A heat monitor (e.g., 3M time-temperature tag), placed at the point of greatest heat exposure (usually near a side, away from cold packs) may have up to, but no more than, four windows blue at the time of unpacking. A freezing temperature indicator (e.g., ColdMark 32°F monitor), placed with vaccines near cold packs in summer and, also, near a side but away from "cold" packs in winter, should remain clear. (See Appendices 2A and 2B for instructions for how to use and read temperature monitors.) Analog recording monitors are relatively large, and "best judgement" must be used regarding where they should be placed (e.g., in the center or on the outside of the vaccines in a large shipment). Temperature Chart Fahrenheit Celsius - 20 - 29 - 15 - 26 - 10 - 23 - 5 - 21 0 - 18 5 - 15 10 - 12 15 - 9 20 - 7 25 - 4 30 - 1 32 0 34 1 36 2 38 3 40 4 42 6 44 7 46 8 48 9 50 10 52 11 54 12 56 13 58 14 60 16 65 18 70 21 75 24 80 27 85 29 90 32 95 35 100 38 105 41 110 43 115 46 120 49 15
5. APPENDICES APPENDIX 1 SMALLPOX VACCINE DO'S FOR DISTRIBUTION FACILITIES . Do prevent freezing of Smallpox vaccine and its diluent. Keep them at 2°– 8°C (36°– 46°F). . Do check the refrigerator unit monitor at least twice daily to be sure the temperature stays between 2° – 8°C (36° – 46°F). . Do change the graph paper in the refrigerator monitors as needed (usually weekly). Also check the ink! . Do ensure the cold facility and refrigerator are locked. . Do get a security system for the cold facility and train everyone on its use. . Do have a written plan in case of an emergency power outage. . Do have a back-up generator and test it regularly. . Do let the temperature in a new, or newly repaired refrigerator stabilize (~72 hours) before putting vaccines in it. . Do have standard operating procedures covering the use of every item of equipment and all steps for receipt, storage, and distribution in place; train staff in their use; and continually check for compliance. . Do have phone numbers of key people available for handling emergencies. 16
APPENDIX 2A — INFORMATION FOR SHIPPERS HOW TO USE TEMPERATURE MONITORS Time/temperature tags must be kept refrigerated until the moment of use. Pull the tab to activate the monitor. As the temperature inside the package rises to warmer than 10°C (50°F), the windows in the monitor turn blue. The more windows that have turned blue, the higher the temperatures reached inside the box or the longer the time warmer than 10°C. If no windows are blue, then check whether the monitor was activated. If all five windows are blue, then contact the manufacturer. The ColdMark Freeze Indicators detects exposure to temperatures under 0°C by releasing a red dye marker into a visible bulb. These are usually placed adjacent to cold packs in the summer, and also near a wall in the winter. If the bulb is red, smallpox vaccine may not be usable. Contact the manufacturer. Analog disposable recording temperature monitors are available which produce linear strip charts over a 4 day period. They may be appropriate for large, expensive shipments. They should be kept refrigerated until used. To start the temperature monitor: fill out the tag with a ball point pen, press hard; peel off the top tag; pull up on the start tab and remove completely. Confirm the unit is ticking. To remove the chart: cut the tamper evident seal; press end and pry up on cassette; remove chart. All monitors have adhesive backs which can be used to prevent them from moving. 17 Figure 27 Time/temperature monitor (far left) has not been activated. The monitor (far right) with all five windows blue, means the vaccine manufacturer should be contacted. (See text for more information.) Figure 28 The top indicator is clear, the bottom indicator means the vaccines have been too cold at some point during shipping. (See accompanying text for more information.) Figure 29 The box must be broken open and the strip chart removed to determine the temperatures reached during shipping. (See accompanying text.)

[Kontrapunctus]

I like "Lady Lazarus" (23-29 October 1962) by Sylvia Plath. It's basically a suicide note:


I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it--

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?--

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot--
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart--
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash--
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there--

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

[Florestan]

Here is an excerpt from one of my own long poems (over 50,000 words) as yet unpublished,

Working title: Zebra Manual (and will probably be the official title)

Give up Shakespeare, you have Leo K now. 

(sorry, couldn't resist)

[Leo K.]

Here is an excerpt from my (now out of print) novel The Adventures of Huckleberry Finnegan:




Well, next day they found out the Huckleberry was gone; they found out he hadn't ben seen sence ten o'clock the night the murder was done. So then they put it on him, you see; and while they was full of it, next day, back comes old Finnegan, and went boohooing to Judge Thatcher to get money to hunt for the Huckleberry all over Illinois with. The judge gave him some, and that evening he got drunk, and was around till after midnight with a couple of mighty hardlooking strangers, and then went off with them. Well, he hain't come back sence, and they ain't looking for him back till this thing blows over a little, for people thinks now that he killed his boy and fixed things so folks would think robbers done it, and then he'd get Huck's money without having to bother a long time with a lawsuit. People do say he warn't any too good to do it. Oh, he's sly, I reckon. If he don't come back for a year he'll be all right. You can't prove anything on him, you know; everything will be quieted down then, and he'll walk in Huck's money as easy as nothing." "Yes, I reckon so, 'm. I don't see nothing in the way of it. Has everybody quit thinking the Huckleberry done it?" "Oh, no, not everybody. A good many thinks he done it. But they'll get the Huckleberry pretty soon now, and maybe they can scare it out of him." "Why, are they after him yet?"

Hohohoho, Mister Finn, in it. And she took you're going to be Mister Finnagain! snuff, too; of course that was all Comeday morm and, O, you're vine! right, because she done it herself. Her Sendday's eve and, ah, you're vinegar! sister, Miss Watson, a tolerable slim Hahahaha, Mister Funn, you're going to old maid, with goggles on, had just be fined again! come to live with her, and What then agentlike brought about took a set at me now that tragoady thundersday this municipal sin with a spellingbook. She worked me middling business? Our cubehouse still rocks as hard for about an hour, and earwitness to the thunder of then the widow made her ease


I couldn't stood it much through successive ages that shebby choruysh longer. Then for an hour it of unkalified muzzlenimiissilehims that would blackguardise was deadly dull, and I was the whitestone ever hurtleturtled out of fidgety. Miss Watson would say, "Don't heaven. Stay us wherefore in our put your feet there, Huckleberry;" search for tighteousness, O Sus tainer, and "Don't scrunch like that, Huckleberry set what time we rise and when straight;" and pretty soon she we take


to toothmick and would say, "Don't gap and stretch like before we lump down upown our that, Huckleberrywhy don't you try to behave?" leatherbed and in the night and Then she told me all at the fading of the stars! about the bad place, and I For a nod to the nabir said I wished I was there. She is better than wink to the got mad then, but I didn't wabsanti. Otherways wesways like that provost mean no harm. All I scoffing bedoueen the jebel and wanted was to go somewheres; all I the jpysian sea. Cropherb the crunch wanted was a change, I warn't bracken shall decide. Then we'll know particular. She said it was wicked if the feast is a flyday. to say what I said; said She has a gift of seek she wouldn't say it for the whole on site and she allcasually ansars world; she was going to live helpers, the dreamydeary. Heed! Heed! It so as to go to the may half been a missfired brick, good place. Well, I couldn't see as some say, or it mought no advantage in going where she have been due to a collupsus was going, so I made


of his back promises, as others my mind I wouldn't try for it. looked at it. (There extand by But I never said so, now one thou sand and one because it would only make trouble, and stories, all told, of the same). wouldn't do no good. Now she had But so sore did abe got a start, and she went ite ivvy's holired abbles, (what with on and told me all about the wallhall's horrors of rolls rights, the good place. She said all carhacks, stonengens, kisstvanes, tramtrees, fargobawlers, autokinotons, a body would have to do hippohobbilies, streetfleets, tournintaxes, mega phoggs, circuses there was to go around all day and wardsmoats and basilikerks and aeropagods long with a harp and sing, and the hoyse and the forever and ever. So I jollybrool and the peeler in the didn't think much of it. But I coat and the mecklenburk bitch bite never said so. I asked at his ear and the merlinburrow her if she reckoned Tom Sawyer bur rocks and his fore old would go there, and she said not porecourts, the bore the more, and by a considerable sight.