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25th January 2005, 11:48 AM
#1
Senior Member
Veteran Hubber
Our Preferred Poets
I just thought it would be nice if the poets of this hub would like to share their own favourite poets and their poetry to start off one of my fav poets is ee cummings i love his style and sentimentality
i carry your heart with me
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
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25th January 2005 11:48 AM
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25th January 2005, 12:52 PM
#2
Senior Member
Regular Hubber
good one querida...
but i think u missed to mention the poets name ...
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25th January 2005, 03:35 PM
#3
Senior Member
Seasoned Hubber
Re: Our Preferred Poets
Hi.. Q!
Hope fine...
Nice start ... and my favourite is the one and only .... short fellow who owned a grammer called as 'Vasuki' and wrote less than two lines to explain a concept....
Thiru.Valluvan
Innasey thaarai oRuththal avarnaaNa
nanayanj seythu vidal - (314)
þýÉ¡¦ºö ¾¡¨Ã ´Úò¾ø «Å÷¿¡½
¿ýÉÂï ¦ºöРŢ¼ø (314)
the best ones to set lifetime policies - no need for experimenting
All are pure formulae - can be worked out blindly....
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26th January 2005, 05:30 AM
#4
Senior Member
Veteran Hubber
Originally Posted by
suressh
good one querida...
but i think u missed to mention the poets name ...
thanx suressh...read the blurb on top again it says ee cummings...all in small case letters just as he likes to be known
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26th January 2005, 10:41 AM
#5
Senior Member
Veteran Hubber
well i would love to be talented enough to analyze and dissect poetry or even to capture the full meaningfulness of a poet's words...but mostly all i can do is appreciate what i manage to capture...
here is another from the same poet (hey just for you suressh i bold :P )
ee cummings - love is more thicker than forget
love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail
it is most mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea
love is less always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less littler than forgive
it is more sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky
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27th January 2005, 10:44 AM
#6
Senior Member
Veteran Hubber
well i see i that there seem to be more poets here then poet lovers...i know ya'll biters and don't want to reveal your sources no? :P kidding but for the time being yet another poet to be acknowledged:
Samuel Taylor Coleridge - Kubla Khan or A Vision in a dream. A Fragment.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover !
A savage place ! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover !
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced :
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail :
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean :
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war !
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves ;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice !
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw :
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome ! those caves of ice !
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise
jfyui (just for your useless info): Coleridge the old poppysniffer coined the word greenery
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27th January 2005, 06:49 PM
#7
Senior Member
Platinum Hubber
I enjoyed the last one.
Haunting.. Has a perfect effect of a haunted painting
with wordless tales to be woven around
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29th January 2005, 10:52 AM
#8
Senior Member
Veteran Hubber
this poem is truly that of a man who knows he was doomed ..Keats at the time of writing this poem already knew he had tuberculosis the same disease that took away his beloved mother and brother...both of whom he nursed personally, Keats died at the tender age of 26 :
John Keats - Ode to a Nightingale
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
’Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,—
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;
And mid-May’s eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—
To thy high requiem become a sod.
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toil me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that musico I wake or sleep?
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29th January 2005, 12:16 PM
#9
Administrator
Diamond Hubber
Good ones, Querida! I'll post my selections soon.
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29th January 2005, 01:01 PM
#10
Senior Member
Seasoned Hubber
Hai Querida...
Thiru.Valluvan
Innasey thaarai oRuththal avarnaaNa
nanayanj seythu vidal - (314)
þýÉ¡¦ºö ¾¡¨Ã ´Úò¾ø «Å÷¿¡½
¿ýÉÂï ¦ºöРŢ¼ø (314)
English translationL
The best punishment to violent harm is to put
the doer in pain of shame, in good turns.
This is the one of 1330 verses... of Thirukural
To view other Kurals in English translation
http://www.coimbatore.net/kural/ku_1.html
Regards
barani
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