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DividedQuantum
Outer Head


Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,818
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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: SoloTrip] 1
#24220091 - 04/05/17 09:53 AM (6 years, 9 months ago) |
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Very nice.
-------------------- Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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graceful dragon
omni-love



Registered: 04/20/15
Posts: 460
Loc: flight
Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
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The Divine Image, by William Blake
(this one needs no introduction.... or addition, it seems perfect.. there's something i would say, which is that the second line seems to be a cornerstone of the piece, somehow... not sure if that makes sense.. definitely it is a stand-on-its-own piece i think... the last line stays with me and came to mind today while walking.. i love it and hope you enjoy)
To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love All pray in their distress; And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness.
For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love Is God, our father dear, And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love Is Man, his child and care.
For Mercy has a human heart, Pity a human face, And Love, the human form divine, And Peace, the human dress.
Then every man, of every clime, That prays in his distress, Prays to the human form divine, Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.
And all must love the human form, In heathen, Turk, or Jew; Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell There God is dwelling too.
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head


Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,818
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What is form in the presence of reality? Very feeble. Reality keeps the sky turned over like a cup above us, revolving. Who turns the sky wheel? The universal intelligence.
And the motion of the body comes from the spirit like a waterwheel that's held in a stream.
Rumi, from "The Grasses"
-------------------- Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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graceful dragon
omni-love



Registered: 04/20/15
Posts: 460
Loc: flight
Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
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Jabberwocky
’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.
by Lewis Carroll, put to music by Donovan -- music song
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head


Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,818
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-------------------- Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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graceful dragon
omni-love



Registered: 04/20/15
Posts: 460
Loc: flight
Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
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Ah, you might like this:
A bit of background : Luke has been in a indefinite acid trip, during which he summoned or manifested - not only the Cheshire Cat, Mad Hatter and crew, -- and, a bar, and in a place where the physics are not quite right. . . -- also, as it turns out, the Bandersnatch -- ahem, Frumious Bandersnatch -- and, the Jabberwock.
Merlin - the main character - also has another nemesis on his trail, the Fire Angel, a chaos being sent from someone from his side of the family. . . Merlin realizes he's stuck in the dream of Luke, and knocks him on his butt with and punch and attempts to drag him to safety...
While they're sitting at the bar, they catch a glimpse of something far off in the trees, coming in at a fast pace . . . the Bandersnatch, who, fortunately, runs into a more fearsome creature in the Jabberwock.
Well, the Jabberwock scares off the former, and then also meets his match in the oncoming Fire Angel... So - armed with the Vorpal Blade, Merlin is just now about to take a stand against this new opponent. He's been dragging Luke and then sets him down, in a clearing which seems like the best place to make his stand.
The transcriber made a few errors, -- most notably, Luke was shouting, "Ole!", not "Old", and some punctuation errors.
Anyway I thought you might like it 
https://www.shroomery.org/forums/showflat.php/Number/24139809
as for poems...
Though the years may creep ahead Mind itself can never age This mind that’s Always just the same
Wonderful! Marvelous! When you’ve searched and found at last The one who never will grow old -- "I alone!"
The Pure Land Where one communes at peace Is here and now, it’s not remote Millions and millions of leagues away
When someone tosses you a tea bowl -- Catch it! Catch it nimbly with soft cotton With the cotton of your skillful mind!
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head


Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,818
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Alice's Recitation
from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
'Tis the voice of the Lobster; I heard him declare, "You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair." As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes. When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark: But, when the tide rises and sharks are around, His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.
I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye, How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie: The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat, While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat. When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon, Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon: While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl, And concluded the banquet by—— Later concluded by the author thus:
But the Panther obtained both the fork and the knife, So, when he lost his temper, the Owl lost its life.
-------------------- Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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CaptainRedbeard
(mushroomdude)



Registered: 03/03/17
Posts: 357
Loc: Hyperspace
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A Dream Within a Dream By Edgar Allan Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep - while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
--------------------
take it easy dude, but - take it!
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graceful dragon
omni-love



Registered: 04/20/15
Posts: 460
Loc: flight
Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
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Where's Donovan when you need him? ; p
I didn't get the name on that poem, it was by Bankei..
The water and my mind have both settled down Into perfect stillness. Sun and moon shine bright in it.
At night I see in the surface The enormous face of my old familiar moon. I don't think you've ever met the source of this reflection.
All shrillness fades into the sound of silence. But now and then a puff of mist floats across the mirror.
It confuses me a little But not enough to make me forget to forget my cares.
- Master Hsu Yun Mirror Pond on Mount Taibo in Shanxi
I'll get less Buddhist soon, but I liked that.
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graceful dragon
omni-love



Registered: 04/20/15
Posts: 460
Loc: flight
Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
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May Song, by J.W. von Goethe
How sweetly Nature Brightens round me! How the sun’s shining! How the fields gleam!
Blossoms are bursting From every leaf, Thousands of voices From bushes beneath,
And joy and bliss From every eye. O Earth, O Sun! O Joy, O Delight.
O Love, O Love! So golden fair, Like morning clouds On the hillside there!
Your splendour blesses The fields so fresh, The whole wide world In a blossoming mist.
O Darling, Darling, How I love you! How your eyes shine! How you love too!
So the lark loves Singing on high, And flowers at dawn The scented sky,
As I love you With veins on fire, You who give me Youth, Joy, Desire
For new dances New poetry. Be happy forever, As you love me!
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Kurt
Thinker, blinker, writer, typer.

Registered: 11/26/14
Posts: 1,688
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So there's the promised Goethe...
All I had ever read by him, was back in school, the story of Faust of course...
Quote:
"He is a scholar who is highly successful yet dissatisfied with his life, which leads him to make a pact with the Devil, exchanging his soul for unlimited knowledge and worldly pleasures."
Reading his poem, I kind of wonder... was Goethe himself actually a romantic? Or was he more just an idealist, a "theoretical man", going through the motions?
I mean, it's not bad. And maybe I am just being dour.
But You'll y know how some poetry is just bad...? It's not. I have written some bad poetry, but I'd bet Goethe is too smart for that.
...But does he take any risks?
... Rabindranath Tagore though... 
Ever read Fruit Gathering...?
Edited by Kurt (04/08/17 10:16 PM)
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graceful dragon
omni-love



Registered: 04/20/15
Posts: 460
Loc: flight
Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: Kurt]
#24228790 - 04/08/17 08:22 PM (6 years, 9 months ago) |
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Nay, I have not.
Someday perhaps.
Ya - Goethe was very romantic -- incredibly so. He had liasons and such. . . Charlotte was a character principle in his life,
He named and based 'Lotte, or Charlotte after her, in his book Sorrows of Young Werther. . .
I recommend this book very highly -- the highest and best romantic novel ever written, considered by some. . .
It was, however, too good perhaps in that it inspired -- not only a certain type of dress -- People dressed like Werther,
It also spawned a slew of Suicides. . . . So - when he wrote Wilhelm Meister later on, he was much mellower and such. . .
More refined as well, and incredibly amazing. . .
Schopenhauer called it one of the four best novels in the world. Werther was his first novel, and he wrote it when he was 24.
His poems are cool -- very prolific, -- There's a good series on J.W. von Goethe that is 12 books long. . .
That's the version I read of Wilhelm -- Eric Blackall translator. --
In one of the books, it's just his poetry; and others -- Good series, I've had two or three of them.
Good timing, too. Ttys.
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Kurt
Thinker, blinker, writer, typer.

Registered: 11/26/14
Posts: 1,688
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Wow good references there. Well argued. I will will keep an open mind.
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graceful dragon
omni-love



Registered: 04/20/15
Posts: 460
Loc: flight
Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: Kurt]
#24228808 - 04/08/17 08:28 PM (6 years, 9 months ago) |
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I do not argue, sir. I bet on it, or shut up.
In Cabin’d Ships at Sea
1
IN cabin’d ships, at sea, The boundless blue on every side expanding, With whistling winds and music of the waves—the large imperious waves—In such, Or some lone bark, buoy’d on the dense marine, Where, joyous, full of faith, spreading white sails, 5 She cleaves the ether, mid the sparkle and the foam of day, or under many a star at night, By sailors young and old, haply will I, a reminiscence of the land, be read, In full rapport at last.
-Walt Whitman
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graceful dragon
omni-love



Registered: 04/20/15
Posts: 460
Loc: flight
Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
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To answer your question, though, no, he does not take risks very much. When his house was besieged once, he hid like a little girl.
I love him not less, though. . .
'Every word and action reflects throughout infinity. . . ' he said, 200 years before the internet! . . .
OMG THERE'S A LITTLE GREEN FROG.
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graceful dragon
omni-love



Registered: 04/20/15
Posts: 460
Loc: flight
Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
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I took a picture of it but I really don't feel right about posting it. . . . Frogs are green a lot of the time, anyway.
The Wild Horse
On the boundless plain careering, By an unseen compass steering, Wildly flying, reappearing,--
With untamed fire their broad eyes glowing, In every step a grand pride showing, Of no servile moment knowing,--
Happy as the trees and flowers, In their instinct cradled hours, Happier in fuller powers,--
See the wild herd nobly ranging, Nature varying, not changing, Lawful in their lawless ranging.
the Spirit of Poetry Incarnated,
or... no, yeah, that.
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graceful dragon
omni-love



Registered: 04/20/15
Posts: 460
Loc: flight
Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
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Somnambulisma
On an old shore, the vulgar ocean rolls Noiselessly, noiselessly, resembling a thin bird, That thinks of settling, yet never settles, on a nest.
The wings keep spreading and yet are never wings. The claws keep scratching on the shale, the shallow shale, The sounding shallow, until by water washed away.
The generations of the bird are all By water washed away. They follow after. They follow, follow, follow, in water washed away.
Without this bird that never settles, without Its generations that follow in their universe, The ocean, falling and falling on the hollow shore,
Would be a geography of the dead: not of that land To which they may have gone, but of the place in which They lived, in which they lacked a pervasive being,
In which no scholar, separately dwelling, Poured forth the fine fins, the gawky beaks, the personalia, Which, as a man feeling everything, were his.
Wallace Stevens
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graceful dragon
omni-love



Registered: 04/20/15
Posts: 460
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Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
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This is the only poem by him I've found on the web.
Lobachevski's Eyes
From Doorways in the Sand
Lobachevski alone has looked on beauty bare. She curves in here, she curves in here. She curves out there. Her parallel clefts come together to tease In un-callipygianous-wise; With fewer than one hundred eighty degrees Her glorious triangle lies. Her double-trumpet symmetry Riemann did not court--- His tastes to simpler-curvedness, the buxom Teuton sort! An ellipse is fine for as far as it goes, But modesty, away! If I'm going to see Beauty without her clothes Give me hyperbolas any old day.
The world is curves, I've heard it said, And straightway in it nothing lies. This then my wish, before I'm dead: To look through Lobachevski's eyes.
Roger Zelazny
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graceful dragon
omni-love



Registered: 04/20/15
Posts: 460
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Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
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The Snow Man, by Wallace Stevens
One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged with ice, The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think Of any misery in the sound of the wind, In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land Full of the same wind That is blowing in the same bare place For the listener, who listens in the snow, And, nothing himself, beholds Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
Too much, too many. Good'night.
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once in a lifetime
sun child



Registered: 02/12/15
Posts: 1,807
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This was always one of my favorites. It really blew me away when I first read it; I was about 17. Kind of appropriate for Shroomery I guess
A Ballad of Life - A.C. Swinburne
I FOUND in dreams a place of wind and flowers, Full of sweet trees and colour of glad grass, In midst whereof there was A lady clothed like summer with sweet hours. Her beauty, fervent as a fiery moon, Made my blood burn and swoon Like a flame rained upon. Sorrow had filled her shaken eyelids’ blue, And her mouth’s sad red heavy rose all through Seemed sad with glad things gone.
She held a little cithern by the strings, Shaped heartwise, strung with subtle-coloured hair Of some dead lute-player That in dead years had done delicious things. The seven strings were named accordingly; The first string charity, The second tenderness, The rest were pleasure, sorrow, sleep, and sin, And loving-kindness, that is pity’s kin And is most pitiless.
There were three men with her, each garmented With gold and shod with gold upon the feet; And with plucked ears of wheat The first man’s hair was wound upon his head. His face was red, and his mouth curled and sad; All his gold garment had Pale stains of dust and rust. A riven hood was pulled across his eyes; The token of him being upon this wise Made for a sign of Lust.
The next was Shame, with hollow heavy face Coloured like green wood when flame kindles it. He hath such feeble feet They may not well endure in any place. His face was full of grey old miseries, And all his blood’s increase Was even increase of pain. The last was Fear, that is akin to Death; He is Shame’s friend, and always as Shame saith Fear answers him again.
My soul said in me; This is marvellous, Seeing the air’s face is not so delicate Nor the sun’s grace so great, If sin and she be kin or amorous. And seeing where maidens served her on their knees, I bade one crave of these To know the cause thereof. Then Fear said: I am Pity that was dead. And Shame said: I am Sorrow comforted. And Lust said: I am Love.
Thereat her hands began a lute-playing And her sweet mouth a song in a strange tongue; And all the while she sung There was no sound but long tears following Long tears upon men’s faces waxen white With extreme sad delight. But those three following men Became as men raised up among the dead; Great glad mouths open and fair cheeks made red With child’s blood come again.
Then I said: Now assuredly I see My lady is perfect, and transfigureth All sin and sorrow and death, Making them fair as her own eyelids be, Or lips wherein my whole soul’s life abides; Or as her sweet white sides And bosom carved to kiss. Now therefore, if her pity further me, Doubtless for her sake all my days shall be As righteous as she is.
Forth, ballad, and take roses in both arms, Even till the top rose touch thee in the throat Where the least thornprick harms; And girdled in thy golden singing-coat, Come thou before my lady and say this; Borgia, thy gold hair’s colour burns in me, Thy mouth makes beat my blood in feverish rhymes; Therefore so many as these roses be, Kiss me so many times. Then it may be, seeing how sweet she is, That she will stoop herself none otherwise Than a blown vine-branch doth, And kiss thee with soft laughter on thine eyes, Ballad, and on thy mouth.
-------------------- Innocent, Oldfield & Hegerland Julia Delaney, Bothy Band Rasta Girl, Sister Carol Genesis, Jorma K I Wish You Peace, Lawrence Laughing Do Your Thing, Moondog large . . music garden . . veryall peace them hiStarhouse - main Time Traveler's Guide
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