English The Art Of English Poetry
But you still know lots about "Macbeth" so your age didn't creep on that fast!
I will be away for 8 days and not able to write here in that time. BUT... afterwarts lets get started again :-)
Take care in the meantime!
to like this little writing. It just reminded me
that this thread exists as well :-)
( see below gefällt mir . That was dear Melinka.
I still remember my school days very well and an impressive teacher who not only gave me my love for Anglo-Saxon language and poetry.-
My particularly memorable favorit is Dylan Thomas-
born in Wales Dylan Thomas is famous for his acutely lyrical and emotional poetry, as well as his turbulent personal life. His radio piece "Under milk wood" as a film with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Tayler, among others, still impresses me today, but so does this poem:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Greetings Malinka
Yes I can see why this man impresses you. A clever, slightly wildish impression he leaves on me.
His words seem very intense!
I have heard of him as I was about 22 and also a bit wildish..haha
I wonder if you have heard of Fran Landesman?
Fran Landesman's Poetry
Fran Landesman is a brilliant poet with an even more brilliant sense of humor. Each of her poems are jewels, some of which were so delectable that I had to commit them to memory. It's the kind of stuff that if you are brave and opportune enough to quote it at the right moment, you will have the entire room roaring with laughter and awe! I can only imagine how much fun it was for Fran herself to read her poetry out loud.
Here a little example of it…..
Love is the Rainbow
Passion is purple, envy is green
Sorrow is heavy, kindness is clean
Anger is yellow, and grief is grey
Love is the rainbow day after day
Love is the rainbow, fire and ice
Love is a vision cowards call vice
Pleasure is pinkish and fear is blue
Love is a peacock laughing at you
Love is all colours, ruby and gold
Acid and honey, wide – eyed and old
Love is a killer and love is gay
Love is the rainbow day after day
It seems that nobody wants to communicate in English.
Well, there is so much else to do. As this is my native language I do have of course enough possibilities to use the language.
I do understand and wish all who were partaking here...ALL THE BEST
Greetings Yoli
17th Century Nun's Prayer
Lord, thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older
And someday will be old.
Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something
On every subject on every occasion.
Release me from craving to straighten out everybody's affairs.
Make me thoughtful but not moody, helpful but not bossy.
With my vast store of wisdom it seems a pity not to use it all,
But thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details;
Give me wings to get to the point!
Seal my lips of my aches and pains - they are increasing
And the love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.
Keep me reasonably sweet; but know that I do not want to be a saint just yet -
Some of them are so hard to live with.
Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places,
And talents in unexpected people.
And give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.
Amen.
I Love You
BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX
I love your lips when they’re wet with wine
And red with a wild desire;
I love your eyes when the lovelight lies
Lit with a passionate fire.
I love your arms when the warm white flesh
Touches mine in a fond embrace;
I love your hair when the strands enmesh
Your kisses against my face.
Not for me the cold, calm kiss
Of a virgin’s bloodless love;
Not for me the saint’s white bliss,
Nor the heart of a spotless dove.
But give me the love that so freely gives
And laughs at the whole world’s blame,
With your body so young and warm in my arms,
It sets my poor heart aflame.
So kiss me sweet with your warm wet mouth,
Still fragrant with ruby wine,
And say with a fervor born of the South
That your body and soul are mine.
Clasp me close in your warm young arms,
While the pale stars shine above,
And we’ll live our whole young lives away
In the joys of a living love.
