  Poetry
This week: Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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| This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady |
Submitted By: bazilbob
Submitted Comment:
Heaney! Seamus Heaney! I love him so much, he got me an A in English A level! (I got 100% on his paper, even though I didn't think I got him at all so now I adore him!)
I have to admit I had not read any of Seamus Heaney poetry before, but that has changed now. Thank you. So far my favorite has to be "The Haw Lantern."
Stormy Lady
The Haw Lantern
By Seamus Heaney
The wintry haw is burning out of season,
crab of the thorn, a small light for small people,
wanting no more from them but that they keep
the wick of self-respect from dying out,
not having to blind them with illumination.
But sometimes when your breath plumes in the frost
it takes the roaming shape of Diogenes
with his lantern, seeking one just man;
so you end up scrutinized from behind the haw
he holds up at eye-level on its twig,
and you flinch before its bonded pith and stone,
its blood-prick that you wish would test and clear you,
its pecked-at ripeness that scans you, then moves on.
O DEATH, ROCK ME ASLEEP
By Anne Boleyn
Death, rock me asleep,
Bring me to quiet rest,
Let pass my weary guiltless ghost
Out of my careful breast.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Let thy sound my death tell.
Death doth draw nigh;
There is no remedy.
My pains who can express?
Alas, they are so strong;
My dolour will not suffer strength
My life for to prolong.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Let thy sound my death tell.
Death doth draw nigh;
There is no remedy.
Alone in prison strong
I wait my destiny.
Woe worth this cruel hap that I
Should taste this misery!
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Let thy sound my death tell.
Death doth draw nigh;
There is no remedy.
Farewell, my pleasures past,
Welcome, my present pain!
I feel my torments so increase
That life cannot remain.
Cease now, thou passing bell;
Rung is my doleful knell;
For the sound my death doth tell.
Death doth draw nigh;
There is no remedy.
THE IVY GREEN
By Charles Dickens
Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green,
That creepeth o'er ruins old!
Of right choice food are his meals, I ween,
In his cell so lone and cold.
The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed,
To pleasure his dainty whim:
And the mouldering dust that years have made
Is a merry meal for him.
Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the Ivy green.
Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings,
And a staunch old heart has he.
How closely he twineth, how tight he clings
To his friend the huge Oak Tree!
And slyly he traileth along the ground,
And his leaves he gently waves,
As he joyously hugs and crawleth round
The rich mould of dead men's graves.
Creeping where grim death hath been,
A rare old plant is the Ivy green.
Whole ages have fled and their works decayed,
And nations have scattered been;
But the stout old Ivy shall never fade,
From its hale and hearty green.
The brave old plant, in its lonely days,
Shall fatten upon the past:
For the stateliest building man can raise
Is the Ivy's food at last.
Creeping on where time has been,
A rare old plant is the Ivy green.
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
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#1133777 by Not Available. |
SUMMER
Summer comes and passes by,
Staying just enough to let us enjoy.
The scorching heat, the craving fun
Can only be enjoyed in a blazing sun.
In the blissful summer, we slurp ice-creams
And for sweet mangoes, everyone dreams.
Swimming, tanning and other jollies,
Having fresh juices, and ice-lollies.
Summer comes with merry jollifications,
And with long, restful vacations.
But one should avoid the sizzling rays
Of the Sun, that can burn your face.
The summer monsoons bring us rains,
Pitter-patter on window-panes;
Opportunities to get soaked up,
Chips and Pakoras, we eat up.
So let’s rejoice, for summer arrives,
For water-fights, every kid thrives.
Get up friend, and bless the joys;
Of a lovely summer and sunny skies.
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#1112948 by Not Available. |
Too Hot
The temperature’s rising
a hundred degrees
The brown outs are starting
so pardon me, please
If I become cranky
and begin to gripe
It’s not dew, quite frankly,
it’s sweat that I swipe
With hot air expanding
my brain ’til it pops,
The asphalt is running
in giant tar glops
Mosquitoes encircling,
the ants I don’t like,
Picnics are maddening
I’m going on strike
No ice in the freezer,
no tea in my glass,
No trying to please her,
hot Summer must pass
I’m waiting for Winter
when I fit right in,
A lump in a sweater,
a blonde with pink skin
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These are the rules:
1)You must use the words I give in a poem.
2)They can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem.
3)All entries must be posted in your portfolio and you must post the link in this forum "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] by August 19, 2006.
4)The winner will get 3000 gift points and the poem will be displayed in this section of the newsletter the next time it is my turn to post. (August 23, 2006)
The words are:
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Poetry: July 26, 2006 Issue [#1175]
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