Poetry Appreciation (do NOT post your own poetry)

Discussion in 'In the Media' started by Tamstrong, Feb 5, 2011.

  1. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  2. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  3. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  4. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  5. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  6. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  7. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  8. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  9. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  10. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  11. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  12. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  13. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  14. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  15. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

    Insomnia

    Insomnia
    We meet again
    With your clammy hands
    Wrapped neatly around
    My skin
    Conversations with the ceiling
    Sharing secrets with the shadows
    The night takes me in
    But won’t let me out

    ~Bailey Lewis
     
  16. Iluvhim

    Iluvhim Member

  17. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

  18. redlolly

    redlolly Well-Known Member

    Any of you guys ever been to Slough on visits to the UK?

    Slough
    Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!
    It isn't fit for humans now,
    There isn't grass to graze a cow.
    Swarm over, Death!

    Come, bombs and blow to smithereens
    Those air -conditioned, bright canteens,
    Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans,
    Tinned minds, tinned breath.

    Mess up the mess they call a town-
    A house for ninety-seven down
    And once a week a half a crown
    For twenty years.

    And get that man with double chin
    Who'll always cheat and always win,
    Who washes his repulsive skin
    In women's tears:

    And smash his desk of polished oak
    And smash his hands so used to stroke
    And stop his boring dirty joke
    And make him yell.

    But spare the bald young clerks who add
    The profits of the stinking cad;
    It's not their fault that they are mad,
    They've tasted Hell.

    It's not their fault they do not know
    The birdsong from the radio,
    It's not their fault they often go
    To Maidenhead

    And talk of sport and makes of cars
    In various bogus-Tudor bars
    And daren't look up and see the stars
    But belch instead.

    In labour-saving homes, with care
    Their wives frizz out peroxide hair
    And dry it in synthetic air
    And paint their nails.

    Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough
    To get it ready for the plough.
    The cabbages are coming now;
    The earth exhales.

    -Sir John Betjeman - 1937
     
  19. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

    [​IMG]
    Elizabeth Barrett Browning
     
  20. Tamstrong

    Tamstrong Administrator Staff Member

Share This Page