Who is Russian?? :confused:
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Who is Russian?? :confused:
Pushkin-maybe not. just thought, since you seem to enjoy alot of that. My mistake perhaps :D
You to, my son Asa??? :lol: :lol: It's very famous poet, Alexandar Sergevich Pushkin,his famous plays are Boris Godunov and Evgeny Onegin :D :D
Two verses of Flowers, from The Courtship of Miles Standish and Minor Poems:
"Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous,
God hath written in those stars above;
But not less in the bright flowers under us
Stands the revelation of his love.
Bright and glorious is that revelation,
Written all over this great world of ours;
Making evident our own creation,
In these stars of earth, these golden flowers."
Ah yes the full name brings memories and thoughts back into this barren attic! :lol: thanks Baz!
Pushkin, The poor knight
"Once there came a vision glorious,
Mystic, dreadful, wondrous fair;
Burned itself into his spirit,
And abode for ever there!
"Never more--from that sweet moment--
Gazed he on womankind;
He was dumb to love and wooing
And to all their graces blind.
"Full of love for that sweet vision,
Brave and pure he took the field;
With his blood he stained the letters
A. M. D. upon his shield.
"'Lumen caeli, sancta Rosa!'
Shouting on the foe he fell,
And like thunder rang his war-cry
O'er the cowering infidel.
"Then within his distant castle,
Home returned, he dreamed his days-
Silent, sad,--and when death took him
He was mad, the legend says."
It's a beautiful poem about man and his love for ideal, not only for some nice lady like all knights; his is more like Don Quixote, but there's no Sancho and it's not so comical.
Buddy, if you'll ever read The Idiot :mad: , you'll find it there. READ IT :D
Oh i plan on reading the idiot...For the july forum. lol :lol: kidding
I really like the poem. where could i find more Baz?
cheers
Look at http://www.poemhunter.com/ and http://www.jollyroger.com/classicalpoetry/.
Lads from forum told me for it, it's quite good.
Here's a poem by Blake that I came across recently:
A Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
Sadly, I know so little about poetry that it could nearly be called a shame... When I got interested in literature, I enthusiatically launched into books, but deliberaly excluded poetry completely, thinking that it just wasn't my thing. :( Now having realised how much I have missed, I'm taking care to catch up. I'm quite curious for the poetry introductions at uni.
i have many poems which i like
i like death be not proud by donne , we are seven by william and alot of poems i will tell you about it later
in the second page i found some one was asking Scheherazade, he was wondering what Wordsworth was talking about in his poem the world is too much with us
i will tell you
in the first line he chose a perfect word and perfect contradictory title because he was talking about the the pleasure and the problem of the world what is the too much is the pleasure too much or is the problem is too much
and he thinks that we have waste our powers and we do not care about the nature and appreciate it we only care about materialistic thing he asked and wish if we could look to the nature and enjoy on it and this what we see in forst he done this when he wrote his poem stopping by woods on a snowy evening and also ', he said as if we gave our hearts away from our body we give it to some one else and live in alive which we donot enjoy our selves on it and follow our material things
i wish if i helped you on this i mean this is only a lil but realiy i have forgot the rest if you are intrested to learn more in what he was thinking tell me i will told you more
The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes
The Lady of Shalott by Lord Alfred Tennyson
The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe
I also love a short poem by Edwin Markham:
He drew a circle that shut me out;
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But love and I had the wit to win;
We drew a circle that took him in.
In Rudyard's vein I would submit this inspiration from a sufferer of bodily ills:
Invictus by William Ernest Henley
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.
At the moment my favorite poem is "Romance sonambulo" by Federico Garcia Lorca. He's absolutely awesome. Especially to a little Russian girl with hippie dreams. Another one of my favorite poems in English heh I can post here by ee cummings who is quite intriguing. My favorites change by the hour, so I can never stick to any, but these are definetely up there. --alina
since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world
my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
- the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says
we are for each other; then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph
And death i think is no parenthesis
Seeker Of Truth by ee cummings
seeker of truth
follow no path
all paths lead where
truth is here
This poem was written by a terminally ill young girl in a New York Hospital.
SLOW DANCE
Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
Slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Do you run through each day
On the fly?
When you ask How are you?
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done
Do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste,
Not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time
To call and say,"Hi"
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift....
Thrown away.
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.