Share A Poem

I've heard that poem attributed to Benjamin Franklin, who published it in Poor Richard's Almanack, but the gist of it goes back to the 13th century.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/For_Want_of_a_Nail

Here's my contribution, from Gerard Manley Hopkins:

Haven/Heaven: a Nun Takes the Vail

I have desired to go
Where springs not fail,
To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail
And a few lilies blow.

And I have asked to be
Where no storms come,
Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,
And out of the swing of the sea.

 

My favorite poems are “We Are Seven” by William Wordsworth and “Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allan Poe.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52298/we-are-seven
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44885/annabel-lee

They’re fairly long, so I didn’t paste them here.

 

There's a lovely musical arrangement of this poem, by Don Dilworth. Joan Baez sings it here:



What I like about it is that it captures a sort of medieval/troubadour atmosphere that matches the fairy-tale tone of the poem. It's in my playlist of songs on my nylon-strung guitar.

 

I quite honestly have plenty, but I will share a lesser known one. I found it in a school textbook and so far, have only seen one link that goes to it on the internet.

 

I've had a great affection for this poem ever since I read it in a book on poetry. It's a bit long, so I'll just post the URL here:
https://allpoetry.com/poem/8530385-Love-Poem-by-John-Frederick-Nims

 

(I apologize for posting yet another one, I just adore poetry.) I just found this one a few days ago. I found his poem Yet Do I Marvel. obsessed over it for a few months, explored his other poems, and found this one! I declare, it might be my favorite poem now. Here it is:

Simon the Cyrenian Speaks - Countee Cullen

He never spoke a word to me,
And yet He called my name;
He never gave a sign to me,
And yet I knew and came.

At first I said, "I will not bear
His cross upon my back;
He only seeks to place it there
Because my skin is black."

But He was dying for a dream,
And He was very meek.
And in His eyes there shone a gleam
Men journey far to seek.

It was Himself my pity bought;
I did for Christ alone
What all of Rome could not have wrought
With bruise of lash or stone.

 

Are we allowed, in this thread, to share poetry that we ourselves have written? Just wondering. (If not, that's fine).

 

No problem. Thank you, Homer.

And since we're quoting poetry -- one of my favourites:

Dulce et Decorum Est
BY WILFRED OWEN

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.*

____________________________________
Latin phrase is from the Roman poet Horace: “It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.”

 

This short poem is by far the best "burn" poem I have ever read:

I Shall not Care
BY SARA TEASDALE

When I am dead and over me bright April
Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Tho' you should lean above me broken-hearted,
I shall not care.

I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful
When rain bends down the bough,
And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted
Than you are now.

 

For "burn" poetry, that reminds me of both "Since You Been Gone" and (more famously, maybe) "One More Minute". Both by "Weird" Al Yankovic.

 

One of my favourite poems, because I enjoy unintentionally hilarious poetry.

The Tay Bridge Disaster
(by William Topaz McGonagall)

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

'Twas about seven o'clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clouds seem'd to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem'd to say-
"I'll blow down the Bridge of Tay."

When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers' hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say-
"I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay."

But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers' hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov'd most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.

So the train mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
Until it was about midway,
Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
Because ninety lives had been taken away,
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
And the cry rang out all o'er the town,
Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
Which fill'd all the peoples hearts with sorrow,
And made them for to turn pale,
Because none of the passengers were sav'd to tell the tale
How the disaster happen'd on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

It must have been an awful sight,
To witness in the dusky moonlight,
While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.

(How did anyone listen to the whole thing without their brains dribbling out their ears?)

 

Interesting, because they were saying the very same thing about the Francis Scott Key bridge in Baltimore, which collapsed after being rammed by a container ship, and the Sunshine Bridge in Tampa, which collapsed after a ship ran into one of the supports. The latter bridge was rebuilt with a large concrete skirt of "starling" around the supports, and the Key Bridge will likely be rebuilt the same way, with a large skirt to protect the parts that a ship could hit.

There's nothing new about starlings. They were an integral part of the medieval London Bridge, as I describe in an an article I wrote some hears back on the subject:

The whole article can be found here: http://dragonwing.biz/col9802.htm

 

All right, maybe. But engineering is not the sort of thing to write a poem about! Observe:

1. A poem, especially if you declaim it out loud, has to be easy to understand.
2. Engineering is invariably complicated.
3. Especially if it's written about in long, run-on sentences (with spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, girders, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, eggs, spam, spam, lateral bracing, arches and spam). (I DON'T LIKE SPAM!!!)
4. Therefore: do not write a poem about complicated engineering.