Friday Poetry Corner

[scotspine]

I will arise and go now,
And go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there,
Of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there,
A hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there,
For peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning
To where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer,
And noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now,
For always night and day
I hear lake water lapping
With low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway
Or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.


Er: William Butler Yeats, 1865-1939

[The Late, Great JC]

JC, do you have to change your sandals at the Lodge?

Sometimes one is unshod!

I See You've Traveled Some

Wherever you may chance to be;
wherever you may roam:
far away in foreign lands
or just at Home, Sweet Home;
It always gives you pleasure,
it makes your heart strings hum
just to hear the words of cheer -
"I see you've traveled some."

When you get the brother's greeting
and he takes you by the hand,
it thrills you with a feeling
you cannot understand.
You feel that bond of brotherhood;
that tie that's sure to come
when you hear him say in a friendly way,
"I see you've traveled some."

And if you are a stranger
in a strange land, all alone
If fate has left you stranded,
dead broke and far from home,
if a stranger stops and takes your hand,
it thrills you - makes you dumb,
when he says with a grip of fellowship,
"I see you've traveled some."

And when your final summons comes
to take a last long trip.
Adorned with Lambskin Apron white
and gems of fellowship.
The Tiler at the Golden Gate
with square and rule and plumb
will size up your deeds and say "Walk in,
I see you've traveled some."

[Dundeegeorge]

Friday somebody else's poetry corner - Get a Life!!!!

Your mommy told you this
And your daddy told you that
Always think like this
And never do that
You learned so many feelings
But what is there to that
Which are really yours
Or are you just a copycat
You're so boring boring boring
Always tape machine recording
You're so boring boring boring
I've heard all this before

Planless and mindless
Scraps from anywhere
Bunch of used parts
From garbage pails everywhere
Frankenstein became a monster
Just like you
Your scars only show
When someone talks to you
You're so boring boring boring
Always tape machine recording
You're so boring boring boring
I've heard all this before

Your emotions make you a monster

[The Late, Great JC]

The Thousandth Man

One man in a thousand, Solomon says,
Will stick more close than a brother.
And it's worth while seeking him half your days
If you find him before the other.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine depend
On what the world sees in you,
But the Thousandth man will stand your friend
With the whole round world agin' you.

'Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show
Will settle the finding for 'ee.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em go
By your looks, or your acts, or your glory.
But if he finds you and you find him.
The rest of the world don't matter;
For the Thousandth Man will sink or swim
With you in any water.

You can use his purse with no more talk
Than he uses yours for his spendings,
And laugh and meet in your daily walk
As though there had been no lendings.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em call
For silver and gold in their dealings;
But the Thousandth Man he's worth 'em all,
Because you can show him your feelings.

His wrong's your wrong, and his right's your right,
In season or out of season.
Stand up and back it in all men's sight --
With that for your only reason!
Nine hundred and ninety-nine can't bide
The shame or mocking or laughter,
But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side
To the gallows-foot -- and after!

- Rudyard Kipling

[Dundeegeorge]

And one for you JC

Jesus entering from the rear (by The Feederz)

We nailed you to a cross, but you're still a ******* pain
Dead 2000 years, still can't get it through your brain
You're just a worthless corpse, you're just a pile of tulip
Give me a couple of nails, and I'll ventilate your pit

Jesus entering from the rear
******* you in the ass
Just another faggot
In just another mass

We won't take it any more, we just won't take that trash
You're another stupid martyr with another rectal rash
We won't take you in the butt, we're just waiting for the when
We've got a lot of nails to do it to you again

You thought it would be cute, you thought it would be fun
But wait 'til I split your tulipter with a soldering gun
Jesus on a plate, Jesus a la carte
Jesus under glass, just another ******* tart

[The Late, Great JC]

Well, I say!

When talk turns to religion
I have notions of my own
Have my versions of the Bible
And things I think alone.

And I find them satisfying,
Find them comforting to me,
Though I wouldn't lose my temper
If you chose to disagree.

For religion as I see it
Is a pathway to the goal,
And its something to be settled
Between each man and his soul.

Now I'm not a Roman Catholic,
But I wouldn't go so far
As to fling away the friendship
Of the ones I know that are.

I've lived and neighbored with them
Come to love them through and through
I've respect and admiration
For the kindly things they do.

I've known Methodists, Baptists,
Scientists and Jews,
Whose friendship is a treasure
That I wouldn't want to lose.

So when the people talk religion,
I just settle back and see
Every helpful, loyal friend
Each Church has given me.

[thunderlizard]

A pedant writes

A fantastic Friday Poetry Corner, despite the shaky start.
Disagree about the number of asterisks in the Johnny Clarke poem though. When I've heard him do it, it's 'bloody' not '*******', except for the obvious internal rhymes on "stuck in ******' chickentown. So it should be "The ****** weed is ****** turf", not "The ******* weed is ******* turf"

JCC performs this poem in the film of Middleton's "The Changeling". But don't let that tempt you to watch the film because it's dire.

Top marks for "Do not go gentle..."