Shakespeare poetry jam?

padre31 · Jul 4, 2010

Romeo:

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!
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Envious the moon indeed, the light indicts the pale world.

Granted, with a love of the English language (and I would argue Castellian Spanish dying) a poetry jam, be it hiku or sonnet, is not likely to draw much participation...

But so, inspiring quotes or lyrics will do as well...flex that knowledge people!:up:

MikeHoncho · Jul 4, 2010

...Word!

padre31 · Jul 4, 2010

lmeister3 said:

...Word!
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Spoken or written...bring it!?!@?

MikeHoncho · Jul 4, 2010

Does it have to rhyme?

padre31 · Jul 4, 2010

lmeister3 said:

Does it have to rhyme?
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Nah, afaik it would not even require sonnet style.

Let'r rip Bro.

Fin D · Jul 4, 2010

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
That ever lived in the tide of times.
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,--
Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue--
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
Blood and destruction shall be so in use
And dreadful objects so familiar
That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:
And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.
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Always thought this should be played as a modern politician or news show producer.

padre31 · Jul 5, 2010

Macbeth:
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
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..........

padre31 · Jul 5, 2010

Come all you young rebels and list while we sing for the love of one's country is a terrible thing.
It banishes fear with the speed of a flame and it makes us all part of the patriot game.

My name is O'Hannon and I've just gone sixteen. My home is in Monaghan where I was weaned.
I've learned all my life cruel England's to blame and so I'm a part of the patriot game.

It's barely two years since they wandered away and it was with the local battalion of the bold IRA
For they'd read of our heroes and they wanted the same to play their own part in the patriot game.

This Ireland of ours has for long been half-free. Six counties are under John Bull's tyranny.
So, we gave up our boyhood to drill and to train and play our own part in the patriot game.

And now as I lie here, my body all holes, I think of those traitors who bargained in souls.
I wish that my rifle had given the same to those Quislings who sold out the patriot game.

Fin D · Jul 5, 2010

A man said to the universe:
"Sir I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."
- Stephen Crane

padre31 · Jul 5, 2010

Puck:
Captain of our fairy band,
Helena is here at hand,
And the youth, mistook by me,
Pleading for a lover's fee.
Shall we their fond pageant see?
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
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P.C. Home Page . Recent Additions

Poets: A B . C D . E F . G H . I J . K L . M N . O P . Q R . S T . U V . W X . Y Z

The Gods of the Copybook Heading

AS I pass through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market-Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn.
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breath of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market-Place;
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch.
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch.
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings.
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Heading said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Heading said: "If you don't work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew,
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not God that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four-
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man-
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began:-
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,

And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;
And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins

When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

Rudyard Kipling
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.............

padre31 · Jul 5, 2010

George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron. 1788–1824

600. She walks in Beauty

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 mellow'd to that tender light 5
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face; 10
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, 15
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
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T'was:

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
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Fin D · Jul 5, 2010

padre31 said:

T'was:
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Lewis Carrol had the good drugs.

NaboCane · Jul 5, 2010

XVII
[FONT=Times Roman,Times New Roman]...If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say 'This poet lies;
Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'[/FONT]

Sethdaddy8 · Jul 5, 2010

milk, milk....lemonade
around the corner.....fudge is made.
I push and strain, make fudge for you.
toodle-lou ***, toodle-lou.
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-unknown

BigDogsHunt · Jul 5, 2010

Oh Lord it's hard to be humble
when you're perfect in every way.
I can't wait to look in the mirror
cause I get better loking each day.
To know me is to love me
I must be a hell of a man.
Oh Lord it's hard to be humble
but I'm doing the best that I can.
I used to have a girlfriend
but she just couldn't compete
with all of these love starved women
who keep clamoring at my feet.
Well I prob'ly could find me another
but I guess they're all in awe of me.
Who cares, I never get lonesome
cause I treasure my own company.
Oh Lord it's hard to be humble
when you're perfect in every way,
I can't wait to look in the mirror
cause I get better looking each day
To know me is to love me
I must be a hell of a man.
Oh Lord it's hard to be humble
but I'm doing the best that I can.
I guess you could say I'm a loner,
a cowboy outlaw tough and proud.
I could have lots of friends if I want to
but then I wouldn't stand out from the crowd.
Some folks say that I'm egotistical.
Hell, I don't even know what that means.
I guess it has something to do with the way that I
fill out my skin tight blue jeans.
Oh Lord it's hard to be humble
when you're perfect in every way,
I can't wait to look in the mirror
cause I get better looking each day
To know me is to love me
I must be a hell of a man.
Oh Lord it's hard to be humble
but I'm doing the best that I can.
We're doing the best that we can

- Mac Davis
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one of my all time favorites

DrAstroZoom · Jul 5, 2010

Love flies by quickly, leaving not its name
Nor any calling card for reference.
Its ambiguity inspires fame,
For none pierce love's anonymous defense.
Some scholars think that logic holds the key.
They try to analyze love part by part.
In all their wisdom, scholars cannot see
That algebra cannot unlock the heart.
Love will not be contained in any cage
It easily escapes between the bars
And flies away, confounding every sage
And takes its place among the glitt'ring stars.
And so, we find that love will hide from sight
Until we let it carry us in flight.

-- Me, several years ago. :)

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BigDogsHunt Enough talk...prove it!

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