General Chat

I love poetry. How about this one

High Flight

John Gillespie Magee, Jr


Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, --and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of --Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air...
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew --
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

This poem was apparently composed September 3rd 1941 whilst he was actually in the air. Magee was a pilot in the Royal Canadian Air Force. He flew Spitfires and was killed December 11, 1941 whist on a training mission.

And if anyone remembers the memorial for the crew of the Space Shuttle Challenger which exploded in January 1986, this was what Ronald Reagan used within his address.

Jillian
Welcome to this thread and I hope that you stay with us. We are a mixed bunch of people with one passion in common, poetry. I also like unusual sayings which is why I added it to the heading.
Thank you for telling us about the author of the poem and also mentioning the Space Shuttle Crew. How could we ever forget. I recall it so clearly and can recall the terrible feeling as these brave adventurers left this planet.

I hope to read another poem or saying from you in the near future

B

Quotes of the Day

If you could only love enough, you could be the most powerful person in the world.
Emmet Fox


Do all things with love.
Og Mandino


An artist is not paid for his labor but for his vision.
James Whistler

The lake and the mountains have become my landscape, my real world.

Another favorite I've unearthed!

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
is hung with bloom along the bough,
and stands about the woodland ride
wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
it only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

A.E Houseman: 'A Shropshire Lad.'

I do hope this poem doesn't take up too much space. For anyone who has been to see Cats the musical they will know this but I remember learning it at school many, many years before it went to the West End-jle


Macavity - The Mystery Cat
a poem by T S Eliot


Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw--
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime--Macavity's not there!

Macavity, Macavity, there's no on like Macavity,
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime--Macavity's not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air--
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there!

Macavity's a ginger cat, he's very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly doomed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake.

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square--
But when a crime's discovered, then Macavity's not there!

He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's.
And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair--
Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there!

And when the Foreign Office finds a Treaty's gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scap of paper in the hall or on the stair--
But it's useless of investigate--Macavity's not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
"It must have been Macavity!"--but he's a mile away.
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macacity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, or one or two to spare:
And whatever time the deed took place--MACAVITY WASN'T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!

"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."
— Marilyn Monroe

DizzI I like this a great deal, I should have made this my motto!

Janet, as i read this it brought back a great time for me when one of my children recited this in public in a London Theatre and that episode in his life set him off on a wonderful career until he decide that he had enough and changed his direction in life, but he is still very much involved in theatre and the like. Thank you for posting it.

Spanish Eyes

Thank you for that lovely welcome. I think I must always have loved poetry. In infant school I had my first copy of When We Were Very Young. I loved Three Little Foxes and Bad Sir Brian Botany.

Macavity (above) reminds me of my 3rd year junior school teacher - Mrs Morely who besides being an ornothologist love poetry. It was in the days when the teacher read to the class and we could put our heads down on the desk and just listen. She loved Macavity and it was always a wonderful performance. She taught me inflection and pace too. I can still hear her reciting Skimbleshanks.

I would love to post more poetry. First I must go back and see what poems have already been put on here. Would I be allowed to post anything I had written? My friend Jo-Ann (writer and poet) and I wrote the verses to go on my mother's funeral Order of Service.

Jill

Good morning Jill and thank you for becoming a member of this thread.
so you write poetry how delightful and yes please add some of them to this thread, I can write prose and enjoy doing so bu I simply do not have the talent to write poetry but I do really enjoy reading it and have quiye a lot of poetry books.
As A child to hid who I really was, well metaphorically speaking, I used to act on stage and do Irish dancing and often wrote short stories or descriptions of the people I met, never showed them to anyone though in case they thought I was daft. Then one day one of my teachers spotted what i was doing and encouraged me to continue. She was our drama teacher and I can picture her even now.

Now i await you entries and maybe your friend would do the same

Thank you Spanish Eyes. I thought after I had posted, how hearts sink when someone says they write stories or poetry etc because it is often utter rubbish - a bit like all those who go on X-Factor believing they are the next great superstar but in reality are totally crap. I hope I'm not joining them :)

Anyway, this is what my friend Jo-Ann and I wrote together to go on the Order of Service for my mother who died Jan 1st 2010. The background is that my father was an abusive bully who destroyed the happiness and lives of his family whilst portraying himself to the world as a perfect gentleman, a kind and wonderful husband, father and grandfather. My father hated me my whole life for not being the son he wanted. Not until the last months of my mother's life did I begin to appreciate the level of abuse she had endured and kept hidden. He trained her to hate me as much as he did. She said stuff to me that no mother should say to a daughter. Even so I looked after them both for nearly her last four years, always doing my best but always on the receiving end of bad stuff. By the time my mother died I had endured enough and walked away but my sister was still in contact with them. He never knew that I was doing the Order of Service on behalf of my sister. No verses I could find fitted what needed to be said because how can you express living in fear and now being free so one evening Jo and I wrote this between us. I'm in the Midlands and she is in Peterborough so we work on stuff together via msn. My mother always believed that her family were waiting for her and my sister and I believe that her sisters were with her when she passed to take her on. I'd like to think that they are protecting her from my father now that he has passed on too. My father believed he was some sort of wonderful man, totally superiour to everyone else. He bullied into us that we had no value and were useless. He always made it clear that we were dreadful people who no one could think any good of. All poetry has a meaning and a backstory so that is the one for this. It is all far deeper than the words themselves suggest once you know their reason.

ON PASSING

My days on Earth have passed, it's true
Now all the pain and hurt is through

Remember me but don't be sad
Let all your thoughts of me be glad

Wipe that tear now from your eye
My time has come, no need to cry

Death comes to me, I have no fear
Old friends and family I see are here

God welcomes me with love into His world
He smiles at me, His arms unfurled

And so dear friends, please hear my plea
Think only happy thoughts of me

Sadness and worries, now all are gone
Don't let your sadness linger on

Jo-Ann Orbell and Jill Wood
January 2010

Thank you Jillian for the poem and more importantly the reason behind the words. - jl

I can only say that your father was a very privileged man to have a daughter whom he abused in such a callous manner who then albeit with help wrote such a personal and seemingly forging piece of work.

I admire you.for your honesty and sharing your your story with us.

Please stay in touch and add to our growing repertoire.

B

Jillian, How completely dreadful to have such an awful parent, even suceeding in influencing the other parent to be of the same opinion. It makes me realise,even more clearly how VERY fortunate I was in having such loving parents, in particular my stepfather who couldn't have loved me more than if I had been his own child. I know this because he told me so. I wasn't academic, and didn't shine at anything in particular, although I was musical, and had a love of English Literature (inherited from my mother) and a great love and a fair knowledge of English History. My parents always supported and encouraged me in everything that I attempted to achieve, and I, in turn, was devoted to them. They both died within 8 months of each other aged 68 and 67 respectively, 25 years ago and I still miss them after all this time. BUT, how lucky I was to have had them.

St. Francis of Assisi:

A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows.


Mother Theresa:

A smile is the beginning of peace.

Just when I think that man's stupidity must have reached its limit, we watch another edition of You've Been Framed.

(Me to my kids) :)

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

John Donne

I Like these quotes by Marcel Proust

“Only through art can we emerge from ourselves and know what another person sees”

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”

“Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”

“All our final decisions are made in a state of mind that is not going to last.”

Thought you might all like this.

Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
Having no heart to put aside the theft.

And turn again to what it started as,
A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
The music in the piano stool. That vase.

Philip Larkin. 'The Whitsun Wedding'

with so much sorrow and pain in the world i thought that some people may like these . I am busy preparing a fish meal that I have not done before so will be back later to see how they are reviewed.

A Hong Kong Proverb

As long as we have hope,
we have direction,
the energy to move,
and the map to move by.
We have a hundred alternatives,
a thousand paths and infinity of dreams.
Hopeful, we are halfway to where we want to go;
Hopeless, we are lost forever.

Hope is one of the prime differences between successful people and those who can only see failure. Successful people have hope because they can clearly see their goals. People who only see failure have no hope because they see no light, they set no goals, and they see nothing accomplished. Successful people see alternatives and are willing to try different ways. People who only see failure are unable to see another way and give up to easily. With hope you are halfway to where you want to go; by setting your goals, and taking the action to achieve them, you will see your hope turn into your reality!

more about hope.


If I can put new hope within the heart
Of one who has lost hope,
If I can help a brother up
Some difficult long slope
That seems too steep for tired feet to go,
If I can help him climb
Into the light upon the hill's far crest,
I shall begrudge no time
Or strength that I spend, for well I know
How great may be his need.
If I can help through any darkened hour,
I shall be glad indeed.

For I recall how often I have been
Distressed, distraught, dismayed,
And hands have reached to help, and voices called
That kept me unafraid.
If I can share this help that I have had,
God knows I shall be glad.

Ms Cromwell's poem reminds us that we all need a helping hand at times in our life. The feeling of hopefulness sometimes comes from someone helping us. Think back to a time when you had lost hope. Many times, we regained our optimism because someone gave us a helping hand. In summary, no matter what challenges you face in life do not give up. If you find yourself stuck in a rut, ask someone to help you, what ever you do, do not lose your hope. As without hope life can be tough.

As Charles F. Kettering once said, "Our imagination is the only limit to what we can hope to have in the future."