A Poem a day keeps the melancholy away

Hermy

On the Death of a Cat by Christina Georgina Rossetti

[For Binky who died on Thursday]

Who shall tell the lady's grief

When her Cat was past relief?

Who shall number the hot tears

Shed o'er her, beloved for years?

Who shall say the dark dismay

Which her dying caused that day?

Come, ye Muses, one and all,

Come obedient to my call.

Come and mourn, with tuneful breath,

Each one for a separate death;

And while you in numbers sigh,

I will sing her elegy.

Of a noble race she came,

And Grimalkin was her name.

Young and old full many a mouse

Felt the prowess of her house:

Weak and strong full many a rat

Cowered beneath her crushing pat:

And the birds around the place

Shrank from her too close embrace.

But one night, reft of her strength,

She laid down and died at length:

Lay a kitten by her side,

In whose life the mother died.

Spare her line and lineage,

Guard her kitten's tender age,

And that kitten's name as wide

Shall be known as her's that died.

And whoever passes by

The poor grave where Puss doth lie,

Softly, softly let him tread,

Nor disturb her narrow bed.

Lavinia

...

New Home

A bit early, but I was never going to be able to find it again.

growleaves

Idiom of the Hero by Wallace Stevens

I heard two workers say, "This chaos
Will soon be ended."

This chaos will not be ended,
The red and the blue house blended,

Not ended, never and never ended,
The weak man mended,

The man that is poor at night
Attended

Like the man that is rich and right.
The great men will not be blended...

I am the poorest of all.
I know that I can not be mended,

Out of the clouds, pomp of the air,
By which at least I am befriended.

Lavinia

...

Deja Boo

...

justdavidalone

https://www.boards.ie/discussion/comment/119672886#Comment_119672886

God! I love this. This is the kind of words you need. I'm in doubt to do something but I know I deserve better.

justdavidalone

https://www.boards.ie/discussion/comment/121220200#Comment_121220200

There's a beauty between love and death. Both are the things that are only sure in this lifetime.

Lavinia

And if I pray, the only prayer

That moves my lips for me

Is—"Leave the heart that now I bear,

And give me liberty."

Emily Bronte (1818-1848)

Hermy

After finishing Music on Clinton Street by Pat McCabe I Googled Famous Blue Raincoat, one of my favourite songs from one of my favourite albums, hoping to find some insight into why McCabe referenced it in his book. I didn't find what I was looking for but I did find this quote from Cohen. It's not a poem but I think it's incredibly poetic.

I had a good raincoat then, a Burberry I got in London in 1959. Elizabeth thought I looked like a spider in it. That was probably why she wouldn't go to Greece with me. It hung more heroically when I took out the lining, and achieved glory when the frayed sleeves were repaired with a little leather. Things were clear. I knew how to dress in those days. It was stolen from Marianne's loft in New York City sometime during the early seventies. I wasn't wearing it very much toward the end.

Lavinia

"After a while you learn the subtle difference between

holding a hand and chaining a soul.

And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning and

that company doesn’t mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts

and presents aren’t promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up

and your eyes open and with the grace of an adult not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build all your roads on today

because tomorrow`s ground is too uncertain for your plans.

After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So plant your own garden and decorate your own soul

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you will learn that you can endure that you really are special

and that you really do have worth.

So live to learn and know yourself.

In doing so, you will learn to live."

Mario Quintana

(from beautiful Joü)

Quiet Achiever

Trees

BY JOYCE KILMER

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

Religious or not (I'm not), the last line is gorgeous.

RockOrBog

The Donkey

BY G K Chesterton

When fishes flew and forests walked

   And figs grew upon thorn,

Some moment when the moon was blood

   Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry

   And ears like errant wings,

The devil’s walking parody

   On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,

   Of ancient crooked will;

Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,

   I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;

   One far fierce hour and sweet:

There was a shout about my ears,

   And palms before my feet.

RockOrBog

 A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky

BY Lewis Carroll

A boat beneath a sunny sky,

Lingering onward dreamily

In an evening of July —

Children three that nestle near,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Pleased a simple tale to hear —

Long has paled that sunny sky:

Echoes fade and memories die:

Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,

Alice moving under skies

Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,

Dreaming as the days go by,

Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream —

Lingering in the golden gleam —

Life, what is it but a dream?

Rabbit Redux

..

Deja Boo

https://www.boards.ie/discussion/comment/121742884#Comment_121742884

The first poem I ever memorized :D for school. Thanks for the memory.

Rabbit Redux

..

Quiet Achiever

A million miles away from the Bukowski I read!

RockOrBog

Austin Clarke

When night stirred at sea
And the fire brought a crowd in,
They say that her beauty
Was music in mouth
And few in the candlelight
Thought her too proud,
For the house of the planter
Is known by the trees.

Men that had seen her
Drank deep and were silent,
The women were speaking
Wherever she went –
As a bell that is rung
Or a wonder told shyly,
And O she was the Sunday
In every week

Rabbit Redux

Poetry in music.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXETLPCogao

RockOrBog

Charles Augustus Fortescue

BY HILAIRE BELLOC

The nicest child I ever knew
Was Charles Augustus Fortescue.
He never lost his cap, or tore
His stockings or his pinafore:
   In eating Bread he made no Crumbs,
   He was extremely fond of sums,
To which, however, he preferred
The Parsing of a Latin Word—
He sought, when it was within his power,
For information twice an hour,
And as for finding Mutton-Fat
Unappatising, far from that!
He often, at his Father’s Board,
Would beg them, of his own accord,
To give him, if they did not mind,
The Greasiest Morsels they could find—
His Later Years did not belie
The Promise of his Infancy.
   In Public Life he always tried
   To take a judgement Broad and Wide;
In Private, none was more than he
Renowned for quiet courtesy.
He rose at once in his Career,
And long before his Fortieth Year
Had wedded Fifi, Only Child
Of Bunyan, First Lord Aberfylde.
He thus became immensely Rich,
And built the Splendid Mansion which
Is called The Cedars, Muswell Hill,
Where he resides in affluence still,
To show what everybody might
Become by SIMPLY DOING RIGHT

Deja Boo

….

Deja Boo

Hard Choices
By Jojoba Mansell

A path is laid out ahead,
It forks before your feet.
A decision filled with dread,
Uncertain of what you’ll meet.

A game full of chance,
Of many hidden pit falls.
To find true romance,
Dare you risk losing all?

Choices never easy to make,
Fog seems to cloud your way.
You fear making a mistake,
Of gambling and losing the day.

But life is full of Hard Choices,
And risk is part of the game.
Be brave, ignore doubting voices,
Make the choice, life won’t be the same.

Rabbit Redux

RIP, Paul Durcan

When I was a boy, myself and my girl

Used bicycle up to the Phoenix Park;

Outside the gates we used lie in the grass

Making love outside Áras an Uachtaráin.

Often I wondered what de Valera would have thought

Inside in his ivory tower

If he knew that we were in his green, green grass

Making love outside Áras an Uachtaráin.

Because the odd thing was - oh how odd it was -

We both revered Irish patriots

And we dreamed our dreams of a green, green flag

Making love outside Áras an Uachtaráin.

But even had our names been Diarmaid and Gráinne

We doubted de Valera's approval

For a poet's son and a judge's daughter

Making love outside Áras an Uachtaráin.

I see him now in the heat-haze of the day

Blindly stalking us down;

And, levelling an ancient rifle, he says, "Stop

Making love outside Áras an Uachtaráin"

Deja Boo

Time changes everything.