K
Kathy
Guest
Ardross, it's all down to personal taste so people shouldn't really be criticised for their opinions.
Favourite Poet
- Thread starter Irish Stamp
- Start date
A
Ardross
Guest
If you don't like poetry fine . Excusing your dislike by saying it is girlie is well worth criticising .
K
Kathy
Guest
Girlie is an expression of speech Ardross used by many blokes. I am assuming there is not a "blokey" sort of expression as well is there Girlies?
It's like anything - some of it's great, a lot of it is dross...
However, if we're on the subject of blokey v girlie, can't see how any of you blokeys out there can't read this and not get the fact that he's trying his damndest to get inside her knickers (did they have knickers back then??). But this guy's got style !
Andrew Marvell (1621-1678)
To his Coy Mistress
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.
Hmmm... "Oi, time for a quickie, darlin' ?" just doesn't do it for me in the same way, somehow ...... B)
However, if we're on the subject of blokey v girlie, can't see how any of you blokeys out there can't read this and not get the fact that he's trying his damndest to get inside her knickers (did they have knickers back then??). But this guy's got style !
Andrew Marvell (1621-1678)
To his Coy Mistress
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.
Hmmm... "Oi, time for a quickie, darlin' ?" just doesn't do it for me in the same way, somehow ...... B)
K
Kathy
Guest
"My echoing song; then worms shall try" 
Songsheet, is he trying to worm his way into her knickers?
Songsheet, is he trying to worm his way into her knickers?
trudij
Senior Jockey
Atilla. Has a fantastic poem about the Spencerscroft Cat ( if sung - goes to the tune of The House if the Rising Sun..... ) :lol:
Merlin the Magician
At the Start
warra about willie wordsworf then?
"I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD"
I WANDERED lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
"I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD"
I WANDERED lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
A
Ardross
Guest
Not his best - Parts I and II of The Prelude are wonderful
Krizon, I reckon that this is possibly Shane's finest lyric:
Pogues - A Pair of Brown Eyes
One summer evening drunk to hell
I stood there nearly lifeless
An old man in the corner sang
Where the water lilies grow
And on the jukebox johnny sang
About a thing called love
And it?s how are you kid and what?s your name
And how would you bloody know?
In blood and death 'neath a screaming sky
I lay down on the ground
And the arms and legs of other men
Were scattered all around
Some cursed, some prayed, some prayed then cursed
Then prayed and bled some more
And the only thing that I could see
Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me
But when we got back, labeled parts one to three
There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me
And a rovin? a rovin? a rovin? I'll go
For a pair of brown eyes
I looked at him he looked at me
All I could do was hate him
While ray and philomena sang
Of my elusive dream
I saw the streams, the rolling hills
Where his brown eyes were waiting
And I thought about a pair of brown eyes
That waited once for me
So drunk to hell I left the place
Sometimes crawling sometimes walking
A hungry sound came across the breeze
So I gave the walls a talking
And I heard the sounds of long ago
From the old canal
And the birds were whistling in the trees
Where the wind was gently laughing
And a rovin? a rovin? a rovin? I'll go
For a pair of brown eyes
Pogues - A Pair of Brown Eyes
One summer evening drunk to hell
I stood there nearly lifeless
An old man in the corner sang
Where the water lilies grow
And on the jukebox johnny sang
About a thing called love
And it?s how are you kid and what?s your name
And how would you bloody know?
In blood and death 'neath a screaming sky
I lay down on the ground
And the arms and legs of other men
Were scattered all around
Some cursed, some prayed, some prayed then cursed
Then prayed and bled some more
And the only thing that I could see
Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me
But when we got back, labeled parts one to three
There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me
And a rovin? a rovin? a rovin? I'll go
For a pair of brown eyes
I looked at him he looked at me
All I could do was hate him
While ray and philomena sang
Of my elusive dream
I saw the streams, the rolling hills
Where his brown eyes were waiting
And I thought about a pair of brown eyes
That waited once for me
So drunk to hell I left the place
Sometimes crawling sometimes walking
A hungry sound came across the breeze
So I gave the walls a talking
And I heard the sounds of long ago
From the old canal
And the birds were whistling in the trees
Where the wind was gently laughing
And a rovin? a rovin? a rovin? I'll go
For a pair of brown eyes
Colin Phillips
At the Start
"RAINY NIGHT IN SOHO" is quite good too.
Colin
Colin
So he's a lyricist, not a poet? In some respects, their works are hard to tell apart without seeing the words written alongside the musical notations. It's okay, but it's not a great deal more original than others who've written about getting drunk, and love and death. I'll take Dylan Thomas any time on those scores.
Erm, was being a teensy bit ironic, tezza. As in, "he's a LYRICIST, NOT a poet". So why are his lyrics (those are the words that get sung to music, folks!) on here, in Poetry Corner? Get them off. We will have no callow pretenders. He might write decent songs, but he isn't a poet.
Are lyrics without music considered poetry? What are the differences between lyrics (apart from the fact they're supposed to be sung to music) and poems? Discuss in groups of three. 20 minutes. One spokesperson. I thank you!
"Poets don't have any tunes." Thanks, terry. There I was, wondering why I couldn't whistle a damn to 'Samson Agonistes'...
Are lyrics without music considered poetry? What are the differences between lyrics (apart from the fact they're supposed to be sung to music) and poems? Discuss in groups of three. 20 minutes. One spokesperson. I thank you!
"Poets don't have any tunes." Thanks, terry. There I was, wondering why I couldn't whistle a damn to 'Samson Agonistes'...