| Author | Message | ||
     Ewan Talisker McEwan Member Username: Ewan_mcewan Post Number: 63 Registered: 02-2008 |
Walt Whitman W.B. Yeats Rumi Whoever it was wrot the limerick about the man from Nantucket | ||
| spence Member Username: Spence Post Number: 2202 Registered: 05-2005 |
Mark E. Smith Nick Currie. (Momus). | ||
| Allen Belz Member Username: Abpositive Post Number: 969 Registered: 09-2006 |
Allen Ginsberg Bassho Percy Shelley | ||
| andreas Member Username: Andreas Post Number: 588 Registered: 04-2006 |
Friedrich Hölderlin Kurt Schwitters | ||
| spence Member Username: Spence Post Number: 2203 Registered: 05-2005 |
Oh forgot.. Robert burns, Caroline Trettine, Ivor Cutler and I like William Burroughs, and Gerard Langley too. | ||
| Catherine Vaughan Member Username: Catherine Post Number: 419 Registered: 05-2005 |
Raymond Carver And maybe Oscar Wilde, if it wasn't for his fascination with pomegranates... | ||
| Stuart Wilson Member Username: Stuart Post Number: 171 Registered: 10-2006 |
Burns, McCaig, Burnside, Gunn, Heaney, Tennyson, Gurney, Wilbur, Logue, Montale, Transtromer, Auden. | ||
| David Gagen Member Username: David_g Post Number: 148 Registered: 02-2007 |
Blake, Hopkins, Yeats, TS Elliot, Ginsberg, Bukowski, Henry Lawson, Slessor, Plath, Patti Smith. | ||
| Wilson Davey Member Username: Wilson Post Number: 184 Registered: 05-2005 |
John Cooper Clarke and Kahlil Gibran | ||
| Jeff Whiteaker Member Username: Jeff_whiteaker Post Number: 1080 Registered: 10-2004 |
Ginsberg, Rimbaud, that bastard Pound, the usual suspects, plus Cathal Coughlan. | ||
| Stuart Wilson Member Username: Stuart Post Number: 172 Registered: 10-2006 |
I forgot Robert Lowell! Pity the planet, all joy gone from this sweet volcanic cone; peace to our children when they fall in small war on the heels of small war – until the end of time to police the earth, a ghost orbiting forever lost in our monotonous sublime. Sorry, Mr Lowell. | ||
| spence Member Username: Spence Post Number: 2205 Registered: 05-2005 |
that's a sad one... | ||
| andreas Member Username: Andreas Post Number: 589 Registered: 04-2006 |
Bob Dylan Dylan Thomas and wilson, it's great that you mention john cooper clarke. and jeff, for sure arthur rimbaud must be mentioned, too. btw: as I said in my previous posting friedrich hölderlin is one of my favourite poets and here is my my favourite poem of him: Hälfte des Lebens Mit gelben Birnen hänget Und voll mit wilden Rosen Das Land in den See, Ihr holden Schwäne, Und trunken von Küssen Tunkt ihr das Haupt Ins heilignüchterne Wasser. Weh mir, wo nehm´ ich, wenn Es Winter ist, die Blumen, und wo Den Sonnenschein, Und Schatten der Erde ? Die Mauern stehn Sprachlos und kalt, im Winde Klirren die Fahnen. Half of Life With its yellow pears And wild roses everywhere The shore hangs into the lake, O gracious swans, And drunk with kisses You dip your heads In the sobering holy water. Ah, where will I find Flowers, come winter, And where the sunshine And shade of the earth ? Walls stand cold And speechless, in the wind The wheathervanes creak. | ||
| Ewan Talisker McEwan Member Username: Ewan_mcewan Post Number: 70 Registered: 02-2008 |
Dang thats nice, Andraes. I fergot to mention another poet I like, James Wright. Here's one of his pomes that's really special: A Blessing Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota, Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass. And the eyes of those two Indian ponies Darken with kindness. They have come gladly out of the willows To welcome my friend and me. We step over the barbed wire into the pasture Where they have been grazing all day, alone. They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness That we have come. They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other. There is no loneliness like theirs. At home once more, they begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness. I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms, For she has walked over to me And nuzzled my left hand. She is black and white, Her mane falls wild on her forehead, And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist. Suddenly I realize That if I stepped out of my body I would break Into blossom. James Wright | ||
| Stuart Wilson Member Username: Stuart Post Number: 173 Registered: 10-2006 |
Exists another pop rock message board as literate as we?? Whose translation was that, Andreas? Holderlin is one of those enormous central figures I've shied away from, but I must look around for a selection... | ||
| Stuart Wilson Member Username: Stuart Post Number: 174 Registered: 10-2006 |
And here's some McCaig... SOUNDS OF THE DAY When a clatter came, It was horses crossing the ford. When the air creaked, it was A lapwing seeing us off the premises Of its private marsh. A snuffling puff Ten yards from the boat was the tide blocking, Unblocking a hole in a rock. When the black drums rolled, it was water Falling sixty feet into itself. When the door Scraped shut, it was the end Of all the sounds there are. You left me Beside the quietest fire in the world. I thought I was hurt in my pride only, Forgetting that, When you plunge your hand in freezing water, You feel A bangle of ice around your wrist Before the whole hand goes numb. | ||
| spence Member Username: Spence Post Number: 2206 Registered: 05-2005 |
Thought I'd lower the tone...since Wilson reminded me of Johnny Clarke, whom I have seen live many times, you should see the devastation under the glasses, anyway, one of my faves by him is Hire Car,it really must be heard as well as read to get its full impact: Hire Car. double park - don't lock the door push the pedals through the floor give it loads and then some more it's a hire car baby grip the stick - grind the gears watch that distance disappear never yours in a thousand years it's a hire car baby hire-car, hire-car why would anybody buy a car? bang it, prang it, say ta ta it's a hire car baby bad behaviour on the street save yourself a couple of sheets collision rate keeps it sweet it's a hire car baby show this motor no respect bump it, dump it, call collect what else do the firm expect it's a hire car baby drive the fu*ker anywhere just like you don't care put it down to wear and tear it's a hire car baby pray the person who hired it last didn't drive it quite so fast this dakarum dodgem doesn't last it's a hire car baby try not to kill yourself or injure anybody else don't forget to fasten your belts rent it, dent it, bang it, prang it bump it, dump it, scorch it, torch it crash and burn it, don't return it lost deposit, let 'em earn it who cares, it's on the firm it's a hire car baby | ||
| Geoff Holmes Member Username: Geoff Post Number: 347 Registered: 05-2005 |
Since this IS a message board dedicated to an Australian band.... Kenneth Slessor... ...but I still love Colridge, Yeats and Keats!!! | ||
| Geoff Holmes Member Username: Geoff Post Number: 348 Registered: 05-2005 |
...Kilbey's not bad either IMHO. | ||
| spence Member Username: Spence Post Number: 2207 Registered: 05-2005 |
Next morning came as mornings do, I had a shave it was close too. A close shave. | ||
| David Gagen Member Username: David_g Post Number: 151 Registered: 02-2007 |
Nick Cave and Tom Waits, poets extraodinaire IMHO Dylan of course. 5 Bells by Kenneth Slessor is perhaps my fav Aus poem. Fell in love with poesy when I first read Kubla Khan by Coleridge in my teens. The Waste Land by TS Elliot truly amazes me. The Beats fascinate me. Read some poems by Dave Graney lately that are hilarious. Getting into slam poetry lately which is a real buzz. Music and poetry- 2 of the loves of my life. | ||
| spence Member Username: Spence Post Number: 2208 Registered: 05-2005 |
Agree David, Cave and Waits are quite extraordinary, and completely unique. Graney, is an astonishing songwriter. he's actually got something to say, all of the above, are dangerous, and he's dangerous too. Pete Docherty isn't dangerous, get me? | ||
| Duncan Hurwood Member Username: Duncan_h Post Number: 103 Registered: 05-2005 |
Of the living people I prefer Simon Armitage. Of the dead ones I like many, especially the Romantics, and I don't think I could express a preference. | ||
| Michael Bachman Member Username: Michael_bachman Post Number: 1074 Registered: 01-2005 |
As I Walked Out One Evening by W. H. Auden As I walked out one evening, Walking down Bristol Street, The crowds upon the pavement Were fields of harvest wheat. And down by the brimming river I heard a lover sing Under an arch of the railway: 'Love has no ending. 'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you Till China and Africa meet, And the river jumps over the mountain And the salmon sing in the street, 'I'll love you till the ocean Is folded and hung up to dry And the seven stars go squawking Like geese about the sky. 'The years shall run like rabbits, For in my arms I hold The Flower of the Ages, And the first love of the world.' But all the clocks in the city Began to whirr and chime: 'O let not Time deceive you, You cannot conquer Time. 'In the burrows of the Nightmare Where Justice naked is, Time watches from the shadow And coughs when you would kiss. 'In headaches and in worry Vaguely life leaks away, And Time will have his fancy To-morrow or to-day. 'Into many a green valley Drifts the appalling snow; Time breaks the threaded dances And the diver's brilliant bow. 'O plunge your hands in water, Plunge them in up to the wrist; Stare, stare in the basin And wonder what you've missed. 'The glacier knocks in the cupboard, The desert sighs in the bed, And the crack in the tea-cup opens A lane to the land of the dead. 'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes And the Giant is enchanting to Jack, And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer, And Jill goes down on her back. 'O look, look in the mirror, O look in your distress: Life remains a blessing Although you cannot bless. 'O stand, stand at the window As the tears scald and start; You shall love your crooked neighbour With your crooked heart.' It was late, late in the evening, The lovers they were gone; The clocks had ceased their chiming, And the deep river ran on. | ||
| andreas Member Username: Andreas Post Number: 591 Registered: 04-2006 |
stuart, here you can find some translations of friedrich hölderlin's poem: http://home.att.net/%7Eholderlin/index.h tml more info resp. a chronology of his life in english (his life is as much interesting as his poems): http://www.wlb-stuttgart.de/archive/hoel d3.htm | ||
| Wilson Davey Member Username: Wilson Post Number: 185 Registered: 05-2005 |
A hill of little shoes by Clive James is possibly the saddest poem ever written IMHO. | ||
| Ewan Talisker McEwan Member Username: Ewan_mcewan Post Number: 74 Registered: 02-2008 |
This is a sad one by John Updike, that underachiever who also writes pomes: Dog's Death She must have been kicked unseen or brushed by a car. Too young to know much, she was beginning to learn To use the newspapers spread on the kitchen floor And to win, wetting there, the words, "Good dog! Good dog!" We thought her shy malaise was a shot reaction. The autopsy disclosed a rupture in her liver. As we teased her with play, blood was filling her skin And her heart was learning to lie down forever. Monday morning, as the children were noisily fed And sent to school, she crawled beneath the youngest's bed. We found her twisted and limp but still alive. In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she tried To bite my hand and died. I stroked her warm fur And my wife called in a voice imperious with tears. Though surrounded by love that would have upheld her, Nevertheless she sank and, stiffening, disappeared. Back home, we found that in the night her frame, Drawing near to dissolution, had endured the shame Of diarrhoea and had dragged across the floor To a newspaper carelessly left there. Good dog. | ||
| Wilson Davey Member Username: Wilson Post Number: 187 Registered: 05-2005 |
....about the Holocaust," he said. "It's called A Hill of Little Shoes, and it's based on those photographs that came out of the extermination camps after World War II, those enormous heaps of children's shoes. A HILL OF LITTLE SHOES I live in the shadow of a hill A hill of little shoes I love but I shiver with a chill A chill I never lose I live, I love, but where are they? Where are their lives, their loves? All blown away And every little shoe's a foot that never grew another day If you could find a pair And put them on the floor Make a mark in the air Like the marks beside your door When you were growing You'd see how tall they were And the buckles and the laces They could do up on their own Or almost could With their tongue tips barely showing Tell you how small they were And then you think of little faces Looking fearfully alone And how they stood In their bare feet being tall for the last time Just to be good And that was all they were They were like you in the same year But you grew up They were scarcely even here Before they suddenly weren't there And while you got dressed for bed They did the same but they were led Into another room instead I live in the shadow of a hill A hill of little shoes I love, but I shiver with a chill A chill I never lose And I caught this cold When I was chosen to grow old In the shadow of a hill of little shoes | ||
| Geoff Holmes Member Username: Geoff Post Number: 349 Registered: 05-2005 |
David McComb too. And John Lennon - especially "Good Dog Nigel"! | ||
| Geoff Holmes Member Username: Geoff Post Number: 350 Registered: 05-2005 |
Spence, what about: Don't you always get what you ask for? Don't you always ask for what you get. or It's an exquisite corpse and its lips are red, and it's teeth are glistening. | ||
| Michael Bachman Member Username: Michael_bachman Post Number: 1077 Registered: 01-2005 |
I forgot to mention that a snippet of the above W. H. Auden poem As I Walked Out One Evening made a guest appearance in the movie Before Sunrise, one of my favorite movies by the way. | ||
| Rob Brookman Member Username: Rob_b Post Number: 1112 Registered: 08-2006 |
Oh, man, that Updike poem made me a little weepy. | ||
| Allen Belz Member Username: Abpositive Post Number: 974 Registered: 09-2006 |
Not to take anything away from the sentiments in the poem, especially since I've admired Updike for a long time, but I do have to say that that little bit of anthropomorphism near the end (a pet peeve of mine) lessens it just slightly: dogs don't feel shame at diarrhea...shame (especially about such things) is entirely a human thing. | ||
| Ewan Talisker McEwan Member Username: Ewan_mcewan Post Number: 79 Registered: 02-2008 |
I had the same thought too, Mr. Allen, but thought that at the same time everything else sentimental about the pome comes from antrhormop, anthromoprism, ah f__k it, that thing your talking about. Its all about transferring human feelings onto dogs - the whole good dog thing. Im sure the dog dont understand the concept of good and bad. Its the same thing when my dog McHaggis wags his tail when he sees me. I think its love but hes probably just thinking yippee Im gonna get fed! | ||
| fsh Member Username: Fsh Post Number: 161 Registered: 05-2005 |
Thomas Kinsella Patrick Kavanagh the metaphysical poets ... off the school curriculum ... ... many years ago ... |