Home | Community | Message Board


Sporeworks
Please support our sponsors.

General Interest >> Music, Art, and Media

Welcome to the Shroomery Message Board! You are experiencing a small sample of what the site has to offer. Please login or register to post messages and view our exclusive members-only content. You'll gain access to additional forums, file attachments, board customizations, encrypted private messages, and much more!

Kraken Kratom Shop: Kratom Capsules for Sale, Red Vein Kratom

Jump to first unread post. Pages: < Back | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | Next >
InvisibleDividedQuantumM
Outer Head
Male User Gallery

Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 8,704
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: toadsmack] * 1
    #26565865 - 03/29/20 08:25 PM (4 months, 12 days ago)

Now comes the crowning age foretold in the Sibyl's songs,
A great new cycle, bred of time, begins again.
Now virginal Justice and the golden age returns,
Now its first-born is sent down from high heaven.
With the birth of this boy, the generation of iron will pass,
And a generation of gold will inherit all the world.



                                                                    --The Roman poet Virgil, from the Eclogues (40 BC)


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
InvisibleDividedQuantumM
Outer Head
Male User Gallery

Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 8,704
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: DividedQuantum] * 2
    #26570044 - 03/31/20 11:11 PM (4 months, 9 days ago)

Attention Please! Attention Please!

by Roald Dahl


'Attention please! Attention please!
Don't dare to talk! Don't dare to sneeze!
Don't doze or daydream! Stay awake!
Your health, your very life's at stake!
Ho–ho, you say, they can't mean me.
Ha–ha, we answer, wait and see.

Did any of you ever meet
A child called Goldie Pinklesweet?
Who on her seventh birthday went
To stay with Granny down in Kent.
At lunchtime on the second day
Of dearest little Goldie's stay,
Granny announced, 'I'm going down
To do some shopping in the town.'
(D'you know why Granny didn't tell
The child to come along as well?
She's going to the nearest inn
To buy herself a double gin.)

So out she creeps. She shuts the door.
And Goldie, after making sure
That she is really by herself,
Goes quickly to the medicine shelf,
And there, her little greedy eyes
See pills of every shape and size,
Such fascinating colours too ––
Some green, some pink, some brown, some blue.
'All right,' she says, 'let's try the brown,'
She takes one pill and gulps it down.
'Yum–yum!' she cries. 'Hooray! What fun!
They're chocolate–coated, every one!'
She gobbles five, she gobbles ten,
She stops her gobbling only when
The last pill's gone. There are no more.
Slowly she rises from the floor.
She stops. She hiccups. Dear, oh dear,
She starts to feel a trifle queer.

You see, how could young Goldie know,
For nobody had told her so,
That Grandmama, her old relation
Suffered from frightful constipation.
This meant that every night she'd give
Herself a powerful laxative,
And all the medicines that she'd bought
Were naturally of this sort.
The pink and red and blue and green
Were all extremely strong and mean.
But far more fierce and meaner still,
Was Granny's little chocolate pill.
Its blast effect was quite uncanny.
It used to shake up even Granny.
In point of fact she did not dare
To use them more than twice a year.
So can you wonder little Goldie
Began to feel a wee bit moldy?

Inside her tummy, something stirred.
A funny gurgling sound was heard,
And then, oh dear, from deep within,
The ghastly rumbling sounds begin!
They rumbilate and roar and boom!
They bounce and echo round the room!
The floorboards shake and from the wall
Some bits of paint and plaster fall.
Explosions, whistles, awful bangs
Were followed by the loudest clangs.
(A man next door was heard to say,
'A thunderstorm is on the way.')
But on and on the rumbling goes.
A window cracks, a lamp–bulb blows.
Young Goldie clutched herself and cried,
'There's something wrong with my inside!'
This was, we very greatly fear,
The understatement of the year.
For wouldn't any child feel crummy,
With loud explosions in her tummy?

Granny, at half past two, came in,
Weaving a little from the gin,
But even so she quickly saw
The empty bottle on the floor.
'My precious laxatives!' she cried.
'I don't feel well,' the girl replied.
Angrily Grandma shook her head.
'I'm really not surprised,' she said.
'Why can't you leave my pills alone?'
With that, she grabbed the telephone
And shouted, 'Listen, send us quick
An ambulance! A child is sick!
It's number fifty, Fontwell Road!
Come fast! I think she might explode!'

We're sure you do not wish to hear
About the hospital and where
They did a lot of horrid things
With stomach–pumps and rubber rings.
Let's answer what you want to know;
Did Goldie live or did she go?
The doctors gathered round her bed,
'There's really not much hope,' they said.
'She's going, going, gone!' they cried.
'She's had her chips! She's dead! She's died!'
'I'm not so sure,' the child replied.
And all at once she opened wide
Her great big bluish eyes and sighed,
And gave the anxious docs a wink,
And said, 'I'll be okay, I think.'

So Goldie lived and back she went
At first to Granny's place in Kent.
Her father came the second day
And fetched her in a Chevrolet,
And drove her to their home in Dover.
But Goldie's troubles were not over.
You see, if someone takes enough
Of any highly dangerous stuff,
One will invariably find
Some traces of it left behind.
It pains us greatly to relate
That Goldie suffered from this fate.
She'd taken such a massive fill
Of this unpleasant kind of pill,
It got into her blood and bones,
It messed up all her chromosomes,
It made her constantly upset,
And she could never really get
The beastly stuff to go away.
And so the girl was forced to stay
For seven hours every day
Within the everlasting gloom
Of what we call The Ladies Room.
And after all, the W.C.
Is not the gayest place to be.
So now, before it is too late.
Take heed of Goldie's dreadful fate.
And seriously, all jokes apart,
Do promise us across your heart
That you will never help yourself
To medicine from the medicine shelf.'


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
InvisibleDividedQuantumM
Outer Head
Male User Gallery

Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 8,704
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: DividedQuantum] * 2
    #26573846 - 04/02/20 08:55 PM (4 months, 8 days ago)

Tell me not in mournful numbers
      Life is 'but an empty dream!' --
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
      And things are not what they seem.

                                                      --Longfellow, A Psalm of Life


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
InvisibleDividedQuantumM
Outer Head
Male User Gallery

Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 8,704
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: DividedQuantum] * 2
    #26576137 - 04/03/20 10:53 PM (4 months, 6 days ago)

Phantom*

        by Samuel Taylor Coleridge


        ALL look and likeness caught from earth
        All accident of kin and birth,
        Had pass'd away. There was no trace
        Of aught on that illumined face,
        Uprais'd beneath the rifted stone
        But of one spirit all her own; —
        She, she herself, and only she,
        Shone through her body visibly.

            1805





*Coleridge wrote this poem in his notebook on 8 February 1805, together with the following entry:

"On Friday Night, 8th Feb. 1805, my feeling, in sleep, of exceeding great love for my infant, seen by me in the dream! -- yet so as it might be Sara, Derwent, or Berkley, and still it was an individual babe and mine.
      This abstract self is, indeed, in its nature a Universal personified, as Life, Soul, Spirit, etc. Will not this prove it to be a deeper feeling, and of such intimate affinity with ideas, so as to modify them and become one with them; whereas the appetites and the feelings of revenge and anger co-exist with the ideas, not combine with them, and alter the apparent effect of this form, not the forms themselves? Certain modifications of fear seem to approach nearest to this love-sense in its manner of acting."


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
Offlineclock_of_omens
razzle them dazzle them
I'm a teapot

Registered: 04/10/14
Posts: 4,086
Last seen: 1 hour, 25 minutes
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: DividedQuantum] * 2
    #26586745 - 04/08/20 06:12 PM (4 months, 2 days ago)

The Idea of Order at Key West
By Wallace Stevens

She sang beyond the genius of the sea. 
The water never formed to mind or voice, 
Like a body wholly body, fluttering
Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion 
Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry, 
That was not ours although we understood, 
Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.

The sea was not a mask. No more was she. 
The song and water were not medleyed sound 
Even if what she sang was what she heard, 
Since what she sang was uttered word by word.
It may be that in all her phrases stirred 
The grinding water and the gasping wind; 
But it was she and not the sea we heard.

For she was the maker of the song she sang. 
The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea
Was merely a place by which she walked to sing. 
Whose spirit is this? we said, because we knew 
It was the spirit that we sought and knew 
That we should ask this often as she sang.

If it was only the dark voice of the sea 
That rose, or even colored by many waves; 
If it was only the outer voice of sky
And cloud, of the sunken coral water-walled, 
However clear, it would have been deep air, 
The heaving speech of air, a summer sound 
Repeated in a summer without end
And sound alone. But it was more than that, 
More even than her voice, and ours, among
The meaningless plungings of water and the wind, 
Theatrical distances, bronze shadows heaped 
On high horizons, mountainous atmospheres 
Of sky and sea.

                          It was her voice that made 
The sky acutest at its vanishing. 
She measured to the hour its solitude. 
She was the single artificer of the world
In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea, 
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we, 
As we beheld her striding there alone,
Knew that there never was a world for her 
Except the one she sang and, singing, made.

Ramon Fernandez, tell me, if you know, 
Why, when the singing ended and we turned 
Toward the town, tell why the glassy lights, 
The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there, 
As the night descended, tilting in the air, 
Mastered the night and portioned out the sea, 
Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles, 
Arranging, deepening, enchanting night.

Oh! Blessed rage for order, pale Ramon, 
The maker’s rage to order words of the sea, 
Words of the fragrant portals, dimly-starred, 
And of ourselves and of our origins,
In ghostlier demarcations, keener sounds.


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
OfflineKlavi


Registered: 11/24/14
Posts: 51
Loc: Norway
Last seen: 27 days, 13 hours
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: clock_of_omens] * 2
    #26592784 - 04/11/20 07:45 AM (3 months, 30 days ago)

Days

Each one is a gift, no doubt,
mysteriously placed in your waking hand
or set upon your forehead
moments before you open your eyes.

Today begins cold and bright,
the ground heavy with snow
and the thick masonry of ice,
the sun glinting off the turrets of clouds.

Through the calm eye of the window
everything is in its place
but so precariously
this day might be resting somehow

on the one before it,
all the days of the past stacked high
like the impossible tower of dishes
entertainers used to build on stage.

No wonder you find yourself
perched on the top of a tall ladder
hoping to add one more.
Just another Wednesday

you whisper,
then holding your breath,
place this cup on yesterday’s saucer
without the slightest clink.

- Billy Collins


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
InvisibleDividedQuantumM
Outer Head
Male User Gallery

Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 8,704
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: Klavi] * 1
    #26595650 - 04/12/20 02:10 PM (3 months, 29 days ago)

Their fall is gentle. The woodchopper
Can tell, before they reach the mud,
The oak tree by its leaf of copper
The maple by its leaf of blood.


                                                                          --Vladimir Nabokov, Ada


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
Offlinethealienthatategod
retrovertigo
Female

Registered: 10/10/17
Posts: 1,539
Last seen: 2 months, 1 day
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: DividedQuantum] * 2
    #26595670 - 04/12/20 02:25 PM (3 months, 29 days ago)

Behold, in yon stripped Autumn, in shivering grey,
Earth knows no desolation.
She smells generation
In the moist breath of decay.

--George Meredith


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
InvisibleDividedQuantumM
Outer Head
Male User Gallery

Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 8,704
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: thealienthatategod] * 2
    #26603668 - 04/15/20 08:16 PM (3 months, 26 days ago)

Afraid? Of whom am I afraid?
Not Death, for who is He?
The porter of my father's lodge
As much abasheth me.


                                                                        --Emily Dickinson, Time and Eternity


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
InvisibleDividedQuantumM
Outer Head
Male User Gallery

Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 8,704
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: DividedQuantum] * 2
    #26617692 - 04/21/20 02:39 PM (3 months, 20 days ago)

Marriage from love, like vinegar from wine—
          A sad, sour, sober beverage—by time
Is sharpen’d from its high celestial flavour,
Down to a very homely household savour.


                                                                      --Lord Byron


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
InvisibleBarnaby
Jibberjabber
Male

Registered: 12/13/17
Posts: 5,132
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: DividedQuantum] * 2
    #26620232 - 04/22/20 05:09 PM (3 months, 19 days ago)

I like the short ones that are deep.  Like Emily Dickenson.  That is the great thing about poetry.  Just something so simple can be so profound.  And one just thinks and ponders on it and it opens up so much more then just some lines of writing  Her life story is interesting.  The show is garbage.


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
Invisiblepineninja
Dream Weaver
 User Gallery


Registered: 08/18/14
Posts: 11,710
Loc: South Flag
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: Barnaby] * 2
    #26620697 - 04/22/20 07:46 PM (3 months, 19 days ago)

The painting isn't on the wall, it's in your mind.

Words cannot convey the underlying beauty and nuance when rigidly structured.

The abstract form created by a brush stroke stirs the mind much like a great poem.

#The profound is the reader the poem is just a wonderful catalyst.


--------------------
Just a fool on the hill.


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
OfflineKlavi


Registered: 11/24/14
Posts: 51
Loc: Norway
Last seen: 27 days, 13 hours
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: pineninja] * 2
    #26623980 - 04/24/20 07:46 AM (3 months, 17 days ago)

Is there an emptiness in you
as you walk your land?
Uneasy feet
on uneasy streets.
Uneasy in the bedroom,
uneasy even in the mirror.
An uneasy creep
to uneasy sleep
pulling the bed-sheets up close
checking your phone
checking your phone
checking you're not here all alone.

- Russell Brand


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
InvisibleDividedQuantumM
Outer Head
Male User Gallery

Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 8,704
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: Klavi] * 3
    #26638965 - 04/30/20 03:03 PM (3 months, 11 days ago)

Our ingress into the world
Was naked and bare;
Our progress through the world
Is trouble and care;
Our egress from the world
Will be nobody knows where:
But if we do well here
We shall do well there.


                                                                              --Longfellow, Cobbler of Hagenau


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
Offlinethealienthatategod
retrovertigo
Female

Registered: 10/10/17
Posts: 1,539
Last seen: 2 months, 1 day
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: DividedQuantum] * 1
    #26642733 - 05/02/20 05:28 AM (3 months, 9 days ago)

Explained

Elizabeth Ann
Said to her Nan:
"Please will you tell me how God began?
Somebody must have made Him. So
Who could it be, 'cos I want to know?"
And Nurse said, "Well!"
And Ann said, "Well?
I know you know, and I wish you'd tell."
And Nurse took pins from her mouth, and said,
"Now then, darling, it's time for bed."

Elizabeth Ann
Had a wonderful plan:
She would run round the world till she found
      a man
Who knew exactly how God began.

She got up early, she dressed, and ran
Trying to find an Important Man.
She ran to London and knocked at the door
Of the Lord High Doodleum's coach-and-four.
"Please, sir (if there's anyone in),
However-and-ever did God begin?"

But out of the window, large and red,
Came the Lord High Coachman's face instead.
And the Lord High Coachman laughed and
      said:
"Well, what put that in your quaint little
      head?"

Elizabeth Ann went home again
And took from the ottoman Jennifer Jane.
"Jenniferjane," said Elizabeth Ann,
"Tell me at once how God began."
And Jane, who didn't much care for speaking,
Replied in her usual way by squeaking.

What did it mean? Well, to be quite candid,
I don't know, but Elizabeth Ann did.
Elizabeth Ann said softly, "Oh!
Thank you Jennifer. Now I know."

--A. A. Milne


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
OfflineBooShow
Spooky
Male


Registered: 03/06/20
Posts: 857
Loc: Sunshine Province, Canada Flag
Last seen: 1 month, 21 days
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: thealienthatategod] * 1
    #26642881 - 05/02/20 07:55 AM (3 months, 9 days ago)

Ah! Sun-flower
By William Blake


Ah Sun-flower! weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the Sun:
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the travellers journey is done.

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow:
Arise from their graves and aspire,
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.


--------------------
You are what is. That's all.


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
InvisibleDividedQuantumM
Outer Head
Male User Gallery

Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 8,704
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: BooShow] * 1
    #26653670 - 05/06/20 09:17 PM (3 months, 5 days ago)

And all my days are trances,
    And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy gray eye glances
    And where thy footstep gleams—
In what ethereal dances
    By what eternal streams.


                                                                —Poe, To One in Paradise


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
OnlineThe Blind Ass
Foolishly Happy
Male User Gallery


Registered: 08/16/16
Posts: 8,958
Last seen: 7 minutes, 16 seconds
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: DividedQuantum] * 1
    #26653707 - 05/06/20 09:28 PM (3 months, 5 days ago)

*

  We think of the key, each in his prison

  thinking of the key, each confirms a prison.


                    -  T.S Eliot, The Waste Land


--------------------
Give me Liberty caps - or -  give me death caps


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
InvisibleDividedQuantumM
Outer Head
Male User Gallery

Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 8,704
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: The Blind Ass] * 1
    #26658042 - 05/08/20 08:08 PM (3 months, 3 days ago)

REINCARNATION.

by Aleister Crowley


In Life what hope is always unto men?
    Stories of Arthur that shall come again
    To cleanse the Earth of her eternal stain,
    Elias, Charlemagne, Christ. What matter then?
What matter who, or how, or even when?
    If we but look beyond the primal pain,
    And trust the Future to write all things plain,
    Graven on brass with predestined pen.


This is the doom. Upon the blind blue sky
    A little cloud, no larger than a hand!
    Whether I live and love, or love and die,
I care not: either way I understand.
    To me -- to live is Christ; to die is gain:
    For I, I also, I shall come again.


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
InvisibleDividedQuantumM
Outer Head
Male User Gallery

Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 8,704
Re: Post a poem you like [Re: DividedQuantum]
    #26681692 - 05/19/20 09:04 PM (2 months, 23 days ago)

What profits now to understand
    The merits of a spotless shirt—
A dapper boot—a little hand—
    If half the little soul is dirt.

                                                —Tennyson


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
Jump to top. Pages: < Back | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | Next >

Kraken Kratom Shop: Kratom Capsules for Sale, Red Vein Kratom

General Interest >> Music, Art, and Media

Similar ThreadsPosterViewsRepliesLast post
* I think I've created a poem? TeKHeAD009 1,344 9 10/16/02 03:48 AM
by Fliquid
* poem written during bad trip.... wrestler_az 2,336 8 09/15/02 07:29 PM
by wrestler_az
* Silly Poems With No Real Meaning Muppet 1,214 7 08/17/02 08:13 PM
by Muppet
* Some Sappy Poems About Being Alone RebelSteve33 1,518 3 08/21/02 12:37 AM
by Muppet
* Darker Side of me......just some poems GrowingVines 886 2 10/08/02 03:21 PM
by thePatient
* i wrote a poem Captain Jack 665 2 09/01/02 07:12 AM
by Muppet
* first poem LoverofEarth 1,140 10 11/12/02 09:47 PM
by LoverofEarth
* some poems..... Conscious_Shadow 1,121 9 10/28/02 04:50 PM
by Conscious_Shadow

Extra information
You cannot start new topics / You cannot reply to topics
HTML is disabled / BBCode is enabled
Moderator: Middleman, automan, DividedQuantum
20,855 topic views. 0 members, 2 guests and 3 web crawlers are browsing this forum.
[ Print Topic ]
Search this thread:
Everything Mushrooms
Please support our sponsors.

Copyright 1997-2020 Mind Media. Some rights reserved.

Generated in 0.053 seconds spending 0.005 seconds on 14 queries.