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 goffa
Confused Individual
Registered: 10/20/17
Posts: 111
Last seen: 10 months, 11 days
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 Re: Post a poem you like  [Re: BigFudge] 1
#25952663 - 04/24/19 11:38 AM (4 years, 11 months ago) |
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There was a young man
From Cork who got limericks
And haikus confused
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¡uʍop ǝpᴉsdn ɯ,I 'ǝɯ dlǝH
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 DividedQuantum
Outer Head
 
Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,858
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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: goffa]
#25998828 - 05/17/19 09:41 PM (4 years, 10 months ago) |
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Oh leave the Wise our measures to collate
One thing at least is certain, LIGHT has WEIGHT,
One thing is certain, and the rest debate --
Light-rays, when near the Sun, DO NOT GO STRAIGHT.
-Sir Arthur Eddington
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Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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pineninja
Dream Weaver
Registered: 08/17/14
Posts: 12,468
Loc: South 
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I still cannot get an answer out of some very clever people.
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Just a fool on the hill.
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head
Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,858
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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: pineninja]
#25999553 - 05/18/19 09:17 AM (4 years, 10 months ago) |
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To what question?
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Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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pineninja
Dream Weaver
Registered: 08/17/14
Posts: 12,468
Loc: South
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Does light have weight?
Ive heard and read convincing arguements on both sides.
I want to be shown at what point the link between physical weight and the notion that energy can also be counted split.
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Just a fool on the hill.
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head
Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,858
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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: pineninja] 1
#25999775 - 05/18/19 11:17 AM (4 years, 10 months ago) |
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Yeah, it's tricky. They say light has absolutely no mass, but can be bent by gravitational fields because all a gravitational field really is, is curved spacetime. Counterarguments to that, imo, would be that A. Nature is messy and light is probably gaining and losing mass very quickly and very minutely, and B. We probably ought not worry about it too much because we know that general relativity is basically false, given that it is a causally local theory, which we know is wrong (since nonlocality has been proven real repeatedly and unambiguously). In any case, we can all hold strong opinions either way if we want.
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Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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pineninja
Dream Weaver
Registered: 08/17/14
Posts: 12,468
Loc: South
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I appreciate the answer.
Is the messy part in fact us...perhaps.
"Measurers moulding" great line btw.
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Just a fool on the hill.
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head
Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,858
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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: pineninja] 2
#26013371 - 05/25/19 09:10 PM (4 years, 10 months ago) |
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bad day
by Charles Bukowski
the jellyfish has a purpose,
the hyena,
the tick,
the rat,
the roach
each filled with their
swollen
light.
my light is
out.
who did this to
me?
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Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head
Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,858
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The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
PART II
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The Sun now rose upon the right:
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.
And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariner's hollo!
And I had done a hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe:
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!
Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,
The glorious Sun uprist:
Then all averred, I had killed the bird
That brought the fog and mist.
'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.
The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.
Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea!
All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.
The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.
About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white.
And some in dreams assurèd were
Of the Spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.
And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.
Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.
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Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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RJ Tubs 202
Registered: 09/20/08
Posts: 6,175
Loc: USA 
Last seen: 5 days, 16 hours
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The Guest House - by Rumi
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
Some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
Who violently sweep your house
Empty of its furniture,
Still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
For some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
Meet them at the door laughing,
And invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
Because each has been sent,
As a guide from beyond.
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pineninja
Dream Weaver
Registered: 08/17/14
Posts: 12,468
Loc: South
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Serendipity shivers.
Great poem.
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Just a fool on the hill.
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head
Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,858
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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: pineninja] 1
#26058416 - 06/17/19 09:36 PM (4 years, 9 months ago) |
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Havasupai Medicine Song
(This song is received in a dream from a spirit and can be sung by someone who is sick and wants to cure himself. It describes Havasupai canyon in Arizona. --Brian Swann)
The land we were given
is right here,
right here.
Red rock
streaked with brown
shooting up high
all round our home.
Red rock
shooting up high
right here.
A spring will always be there
down at its foot.
From way back
it is ours.
Right down
the center of our land
a line moves,
bright blue-green.
This is what I'm thinking.
At the edge of the water
cattails appear,
bright blue-green,
all round the water.
This is what I'm thinking.
At the edge of the water
silt is being laid down
in ripples.
This is what I'm thinking.
Water skaters walk,
gliding, gliding.
This is what I'm thinking.
Water grasses growing,
bright blue-green
under the water,
waving, waving
This is what I'm thinking:
Under the water
tiny pebbles.
Flowing over them
the water we drink.
The water is gliding toward the north,
into the distance, beyond our sight.
This is what I'm thinking.
We have arrived here.
An illness.
I sit down,
I sing myself a song.
This is what I'm thinking:
A medicine spirit,
a healer,
I am the same.
An illness.
I sit down.
I sing myself a song.
The things I have named
I leave behind.
This is what I'm thinking.
We arrive there.
We are leaving the canyon.
Out on the rim
horses that are mine.
They roam there
at the junipers,
where the junipers are straight,
and low.
They are right there,
horses that are mine
are gathered there.
This is what I'm thinking.
Here we arrive, then
we swing back down,
moving back down the rocks,
white rocks streaked with brown.
Down at the foot
a spring will always be there,
a spring that heals,
it is right there.
My horses drink the water
that is there.
White rock streaked with brown
shooting up high
is right there.
There is my horse's trail,
zigzagging right down the center,
the color of dust.
It leads to
the source.
It is right here.
That is what I'm thinking.
And now we arrive
down in the canyon,
red rocks,
down in the canyon,
they are right here,
down in the canyon,
red rocks, low down,
they are right here.
Here I walk,
I go alone.
This is what I'm thinking.
Red rocks, streaked with brown,
shooting up high.
It is right here,
down at the foot,
red rocks, boulders
streaked with brown.
They are right here.
My illness is absorbed,
right here.
I will this to be.
I will this to be.
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Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head
Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,858
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How to Write the Great American Indian Novel
by Sherman Alexie [Spokane/Coeur d'Alene]
All of the Indians must have tragic features: tragic noses, eyes, and arms.
Their hands and fingers must be tragic when they reach for tragic food.
The hero must be a half-breed, half white and half Indian, preferably
from a horse culture. He should often weep alone. That is mandatory.
If the hero is an Indian woman, she is beautiful. She must be slender
and in love with a white man. But if she loves an Indian man
then he must be a half-breed, preferably from a horse culture.
If the Indian woman loves a white man, then he has to be so white
that we can see the blue veins running through his skin like rivers.
When the Indian woman steps out of her dress, the white man gasps
at the endless beauty of her brown skin. She should be compared to nature:
brown hills, mountains, fertile valleys, dewy grass, wind, and clear water.
If she is compared to murky water, however, then she must have a secret.
Indians always have secrets, which are carefully and slowly revealed.
Yet Indian secrets can be disclosed suddenly, like a storm.
Indian men, of course, are storms. They should destroy the lives
of any white women who choose to love them. All white women love
Indian men. That is always the case. White women feign disgust
at the savage in blue jeans and T-shirt, but secretly lust after him.
White women dream about half-breed Indian men from horse cultures.
Indian men are horses, smelling wild and gamey. When the Indian man
unbuttons his pants, the white woman should think of topsoil.
There must be one murder, one suicide, one attempted rape.
Alcohol should be consumed. Cars must be driven at high speeds.
Indians must see visions. White people can have the same visions
if they are in love with Indians. If a white person loves an Indian
then the white person is Indian by proximity. White people must carry
an Indian deep inside themselves. Those interior Indians are half-breed
and obviously from horse cultures. If the interior Indian is male
then he must be a warrior, especially if he is inside a white man.
If the interior Indian is female, then she must be a healer, especially if she is inside
a white woman. Sometimes there are complications.
An Indian man can be hidden inside a white woman. An Indian woman
can be hidden inside a white man. In these rare instances,
everybody is a half-breed struggling to learn more about his or her horse culture.
There must be redemption, of course, and sins must be forgiven.
For this, we need children. A white child and an Indian child, gender
not important, should express deep affection in a childlike way.
In the Great American Indian novel, when it is finally written,
all of the white people will be Indians and all of the Indians will be ghosts.
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Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head
Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,858
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Arapaho Ghost Dance Songs
[Arapaho]
I
How bright the moonlight
how bright the moonlight
as I ride in with my load of buffalo meat
II
My father did not recognize me.
Next time he saw me he said,
You are the child of a crow.
III
I am looking at my father
I am looking at him
he is beginning to turn into a bird
turning into a bird
IV
They say
the spirit army is approaching,
the spirit army is approaching,
the whole world is moving onward,
the whole world is moving onward.
See, everybody is standing, watching.
Everybody is standing, watching.
V
The whole world is coming,
a nation is coming, a nation is coming.
The Eagle has brought the message to the people.
The father says so, the father says so.
Over the whole earth they are coming.
The buffalo are coming, the buffalo are coming.
The Crow has brought the message to the people,
the father says so, the father says so.
VI
My children, my children,
it is I who wear the morning star on my head.
It is I who wear the morning star on my head.
I show it to my children.
I show it to my children.
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Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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ArcadeDuck
Shroomer
Registered: 06/13/19
Posts: 145
Loc: Random Duck Pond
Last seen: 7 days, 21 hours
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The butterflies in my stomach have died
Now there's lowly caterpillars that are waiting for the night
To strike
And they've been dying to escape
The pit of my stomach's a real dark fuckin' place
My new friends are starting to know
Why my old ones don't talk to me anymore
My ex knows why my last one was my last one
Hey, guess why?
It's cause' my fucking actions
I'm gonna feel alone forever
I'm gonna feel alone forever
But I'm getting used to the thought
Except late at night so maybe I'm not
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Sillystrings
Stranger
Registered: 06/12/19
Posts: 13
Last seen: 4 years, 4 months
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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: ArcadeDuck]
#26075527 - 06/26/19 05:32 PM (4 years, 9 months ago) |
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This Is Just To Say
William Carlos Williams - 1883-1963
Edits by Sillystrings
I have eaten
the mushrooms
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for burning man
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so 
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RJ Tubs 202
Registered: 09/20/08
Posts: 6,175
Loc: USA
Last seen: 5 days, 16 hours
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Autobiography in Five Chapters
by Portia Nelson
I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost...
I am hopeless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
II
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I'm in the same place.
But it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in...it's a habit
My eyes are open; I know where I am;
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
V
I walk down another street.
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head
Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,858
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Out-of-Doors, n. That part of one's environment upon which no government has been able to collect taxes. Chiefly useful to inspire poets.
I climbed to the top of a mountain one day
To see the sun setting in glory,
And I thought, as I looked at his vanishing ray,
Of a perfectly splendid story.
'Twas about an old man and the ass he bestrode
Till the strength of the beast was o'ertested;
Then the man would carry him miles on the road
Till Neddy was pretty well rested.
The moon rising solemnly over the crest
Of the hills to the east of my station
Displayed her broad disk to the darkening west
Like a visible new creation.
And I thought of a joke (and I laughed till I cried)
Of an idle young woman who tarried
About a church-door for a look at the bride,
Although 'twas herself that was married.
To poets all Nature is pregnant with grand
Ideas -- with thought and emotion.
I pity the dunces who don't understand
The speech of earth, heaven and ocean.
--Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary: O
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Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head
Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,858
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The Conquest of the World
by James A. Heffernan
Perhaps there is an argument
A statement one could make
To examine the intent
Of that slithering, lithe snake
Writhing in the unguent
Of progress on the make
If soon or late, is little point
The assault would take place
The king, the pope -- we would anoint
And save the dearest face
And every minister appoint
And 'purify the race'
But whither comes this changing tide?
Is it necessary?
Could that snake forgo his ride?
Could evolution vary?
It's all depending on which side
One takes: but do be wary
You see, that argument foretold
A prickly little trick
In what way does culture unfold?
And are we very sick?
This persistent cultural mold
Is many layers thick
The bottom line for this topic
Is: Must things be this way?
A Hadza or a bishopric--
Have we gone astray?
And what of midnight's tick-tock-tick?
And do we have a say?
By logic good and reason true
It makes a bit of sense
That conquerors would be the few
To make good natives tense
And after flashing steel was through
A tall wrought-iron fence
But wait, there -- on the other hand
If multiple are Earths
In some region far from man
Where seldom there are dearths
Perhaps the Other made a stand
And aborted their birth
Either way, well, here we are
With loads of consequences
Lawyers serving at the bar
And more tall iron fences
Unloading fate upon a star
While everybody winces
Although, it would be nice to know
That elsewhere things are different
In universes yet to go
The righteous are vociferant
And strong that voice, indeed to show
No citizen indifferent
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Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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pineninja
Dream Weaver
Registered: 08/17/14
Posts: 12,468
Loc: South
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Let's hope they dont have the same poem.
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Just a fool on the hill.
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