The poetry thread
If—
Rudyard Kipling - 1865-1936
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run—
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
As the namesake implies, this thread will be dedicated to any inspiring, creative or otherwise exemplary expression of the written and spoken word
Invictus meaning unconquerable in Latin was written by William Ernest Henley in 1875. After having one leg amputated due to complications from tuberculosis he was told by doctors that he would have to lose his other leg as well. Instead he opted to find another surgeon, one who was able to save this remaining appendage with surgical intervention. He wrote this poem while recovering from the surgery that saved his other leg.
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Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley in 1818.
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Ozymandias
I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
In One Hundred Years All Is Forgotten
Tonight I’m adrift, conflicted, and in doubt,
I feel like a capsized boat,
and for all I suffer and moan about
I have found no antidote.
***But why should I feel so rotten?
***In one hundred years all is forgotten.
I sing songs and prance about in pride
and live my life as a beautiful novel.
Like a full-grown troll I eat at God’s side
and drink like the Devil’s apostle.
***And why not live a life so misbegotten?
***In one hundred years all is forgotten.
It is best to end this struggle without delay
and to the sea with my tormented soul I will head.
There the world will find me one day
by the bitterest of drownings dead.
***But why come to an end so ill-gotten?
***In one hundred years all is forgotten.
No, it is better to wander on and stay alive
and write a new book every year
and for the noblest lines continue to strive
until I die a writer of great revere.
***If that’s all there is, where then do I begin:
***In one hundred years all is forgotten.
For you animal lovers,
This Dog
by Rabindranath Tagore
Each morning this dog,
who has become quite attached to me,
sits silently at my feet
until, gently caressing his head,
I acknowledge his company.
This simple recognition gives my companion such joy
he shudders with sheer delight.
Among all languageless creatures
he alone has seen through man entire—
has seen beyond what is good or bad in him
to such a depth he can lay down his life
for the sake of love alone.
Now it is he who shows me the way
through this unfathomable world throbbing with life.
When I see his deep devotion,
his offer of his whole being,
I fail to comprehend ...
How, through sheer instinct,
has he discovered whatever it is that he knows?
With his anxious piteous looks
he cannot communicate his understanding
and yet somehow has succeeded in conveying to me
out of the entire creation
the true loveworthiness of man.
What beautiful and powerful poems. I actually started reading the last one with a bit of bias going into it, only to quickly realize how deep and meaningful it really was.
Aww. Doggo
I go in and I'm crisp, clean and my vocals are fucking coming out like music. - Anonymous MW student
- Autismus Terminus Finis (Root Cause/Cure of Autism Epidemic)
- Called Off My Wedding & Other Turn Tail Signs Of The American Male
Hey Gbebe, I googled the peom. The author is Knut Hamsun
Caliph I re-read that poem just now. It's deep
Black Ice - Pure
So without shame, I exclaim I love her
The wind hover between us remains wordless and loud like Sunday choirs we shout
For spirit and soul wrapped in true love can only sing, trapped in you love can only bring out our greatest “we”
Give my life on love’s battlefield if she is to be my Valkyrie and walk me into the next life
Stand taller than my earth height for her in this existence, my resistance is futile
Oooh how my kundalini vibrates at thoughts of her and when those thoughts occur
I’m left thinking how thoughtful of a universe to offer me such a beautiful vision to feast my eyes on every day in every way
Left full like thanksgiving meals our thanksgiving spills abundantly, angst driven undersea, we replace fear with faith
Faced our reflection in each other’s eyes and refuse to look away from the truth that stared in return
see we learn pain is a choice, like love it’s a voice that only we give permission to speak
We peak when hurt’s torturous shriek is depleted
Affirmations repeated form forcefield around our conjunction
What gumption we have to be so in tune
Not even the universe can impugn that we paralume despite gravity’s limitations
We incite ethereal simulations so real we can almost feel the moondust clutch between our palms
Our story that or parables and psalms…of how love conquers all
We arms for it’s ill-fated
Words melodies and metaphors memorized and restated as if mantra or surah
We sight for sore eyes that still hold hoping the painter’s optical parameter the pentameter in the poet’s pen that passed upon his palette is reason for recitation
See we…resuscitation after being breathless, we deathless
Popularly opinionated as the contrary to that which might expire
Optimally fixated on voluntary desire
See wee choose to be here, refuse to see here anything less than divinity yet primitively we adore as if we know nothing more than to do just this
Trust this will see us through like new mornings and yesterday’s lessons, in jester’s ways blessings descend from a god that light-fully tickled at our ascension
Upon command the heavens stand at attention and perform for us
We climate control, the weather reforms for us
For we sunshine and warm amidst the cloud, cold and storm of this living
This form of giving is nothing less than daily treasure
As we create creation in all it’s ugly and beauty and pain and pleasure
For all those to come within our circumference to truly discover that without shame I exclaimed I love her
purely
Litany Against Fear - Dune
"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
I go in and I'm crisp, clean and my vocals are fucking coming out like music. - Anonymous MW student
- Autismus Terminus Finis (Root Cause/Cure of Autism Epidemic)
- Called Off My Wedding & Other Turn Tail Signs Of The American Male
have you seen the trailer for the new Dune movie?
It has that passage towards the end. On my watch list for this year
This one is for the Fathers and Older bothers
-----------------------------------
A careful man I want to be,
A little fellow follows me;
I do not dare go astray,
For fear he’ll go the self-same way.
I cannot once escape his eyes,
Whate’er he sees me do, he tries;
Like me he says he’s going to be,
The little chap who follows me.
He thinks that I am good and fine,
Believes in every word of mine;
The base in me he must not see,
The little chap who follows me.
I must remember as I go,
Through summer’s sun and winter’s snow;
I’m building for the years to be
That little chap who follows me.
No haven't seen trailer but I'm definitely checking it out. I've only read the first three books in the original Dune series, but each of those were absolutely incredible reads. They are SUPER intense you should definitely give those a look. At least sit down with the first and give it a go for an afternoon. I promise there'll be benefits
I go in and I'm crisp, clean and my vocals are fucking coming out like music. - Anonymous MW student
- Autismus Terminus Finis (Root Cause/Cure of Autism Epidemic)
- Called Off My Wedding & Other Turn Tail Signs Of The American Male
So that "spoken word" one you posted is pretty good. Parts of it work well, sound tight, but some parts are definitely overcrowded and nonsensical. Like extra noise crowding the signal. But take out the noise and there's not much message left.
I go in and I'm crisp, clean and my vocals are fucking coming out like music. - Anonymous MW student
- Autismus Terminus Finis (Root Cause/Cure of Autism Epidemic)
- Called Off My Wedding & Other Turn Tail Signs Of The American Male
Agreed. He gets lost in the sauce so to speak. The whole "painter’s optical parameter" bit is an example.
That being said when he does hit, he hits it square.
That's the difference between a poem like that and one like If by Kipling. Kipling doesn't have a single wasted or superfluous line in that piece of writing.
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
I go in and I'm crisp, clean and my vocals are fucking coming out like music. - Anonymous MW student
- Autismus Terminus Finis (Root Cause/Cure of Autism Epidemic)
- Called Off My Wedding & Other Turn Tail Signs Of The American Male