What are your favorite poetic snippets, 4 lines or less, and what do they mean to you..?
" When I have fears that I may cease to be, before this pen has gleaned my teeming brain,
" Before high piled books, hold like rich garners, the full-ripened grain.." John Keats...
This reminds me of my own mortality and of experiences buried deep within that I should share with those I love...the " full-ripened grain " of an awakened maturity and understanding...Larry
One would think people would use this opportunity to quote their own poems... but no.
"Oh wad some power the giftie gie us,to see oursels as others see us ."
I love this from Rabbie Burns and there is never a truer word said
"It is bitter--bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."
Stephen Crane, The Black Riders and Other Lines, III
All of the poems in this collection of poetry are good, but number three is the one I've seen quoted most often, and for a good reason.
A little context: The narrator of this poem sees a creature in the dessert eating its own heart. The narrator asks, "Is it good, friend?"
What it means to me: There is more than one interpretation for this poem obviously, but one thing that it represents to me is a coming to terms with the shadow part of the psyche, the parts of ourselves that we find repulsive or don't want to acknowledge. The creature finds what it is and what it is doing very bitter, but likes likes it because the acknowledgement is a type of healing, or at least an honesty. The narrator (and the reader) watches and perhaps considers accepting their own shadow aspects.
Such insightful commentary on a poem of such personal significance...I was wondering if this is the same Stephen Crane that wrote so masterfully on the American Civil War..?
" Why was six afraid of seven?
Because seven was a robot. "
This is just plain beautiful. It reminds me that robots are dangerous. I have contemplated this sense of danger and come to think it originates in the fact that they can shoot you with laser.
You have every reason to fear robots, my friend...This little " Robot pome " by Jason Christie should validate your necessary fear :
"Why do I have to be one of millions?
Why can't I just be a lonely little one,
in search of a zero to call my own?..."
A blue Robot..? Yikes !!!
Know thyself and to thyself be true
.....why yes ..... anything that I've written .......
Too late, my time has come
Sends shivers down my spine
Body's aching all the time
I've got to go
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
Mama, oh (Anyway the wind blows)
I don't want to die
Sometimes wish I'd never been born at all
Thought this might be of interest to poets:
From Christian Wiman, Editor, Poetry
Let us remember...that in the end we go to poetry for one reason, so that we might more fully inhabit our lives and the world in which we live them, and that if we more fully inhabit these things, we might be less apt to destroy both.
I should think that those that go to poetry at all, would be the least-likely to destroy anything...
Here is a snippet from Yeats I find applies to some I know:
" Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy."...
Love it. And yes, let me rephrase. Of interest to poets not in the sense that we are destroyers but in the sense that "we are the music makers, the singers of songs,..." etc.
Yes..we are indeed the music makers...The music of life, rhythmic, cyclical, enduring...What has allowed us, as poets, to endure this..? To soak in life and expel it through verbal imagery..? Is there a poetic gene..? This need to color life with such spontaneous remarks ..? An inner sobbing at this life of such injustices, or an inner laughter at the absurdity of life's challenges..? I don't know the answer...I only know that I know nothing, and knowing nothing allows me to accept all knowledge, without prejudice...Truth will always out...
Another snippet :
“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.” Oscar Wilde...
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
Where in the Hands of Creation does breath begin us?
Breaking silence. Becoming the inside. - Caleca
Much of the world's beauty forms in response to a wound. -unknown
You can spend all your time making money
You can spend all your love making time
If it all fell to pieces tomorrow
Would you still be mine?
-Eagles "Take it to the Limit"
"The zenith of times creation,
is a 2 legged "imp" called: MAN!
Diminutive in size compared to the rest,
...timorously active but bright none the less,
this frail little primate was nobody's fool!
...Not far in the future the world "It" would rule!"
Quoth the raven, nevermore.
"Who among mortal men are you, good friend?
For never before have I seen you in the fighting
Where men win glory, yet now you have come
Striding in front of all others in your great heart."
Hey, aware !!...Been out of town the last couple weeks...Had to see the ocean again...I truly miss the beach scene...Arizona is wonderful, but the call of the sea birds, the roar of the surf, and the moonlight glancing off the bay is missed terribly...
I'll be catching up on my fav poets ( where you rank very high ) in the next couple days...Go well my friend...Larry
Larry you are the person i wish most to read more of.
Thank you friend
Noons of dryness see you fed. By the involuntary powers,Nights of insult let you pass. Watched by every human love.
Auden, the greatest love poet of all . . .
Couldn't resist this one too . . .
time held me green and dying, though i sang in my chains like the sea...
This is about the golden handcuffs of comfort that we all wear, though we may be content we can nevwe really be happy unless we can break those chains.
"There once was a lad from Nantucket
Who carried a very large bucket..."
Considering the deluge of rain and snow today, I think the young man must have been an eagle scout.
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