General Chat

Wow - it's great to see so much poetry, but I'm not sure that I have a favourite.

I enjoyed your story about school, Janet. Here's another.

When we kids were seated around the tea-table Dad used to entertain us in various ways, one of which was reciting.

The reason he knew as many poems as he did was that he hated gardening and when the teacher used to take the class outside to do some my Dad was only allowed to stay in the classroom if he learned a poem and could recite it to the teacher when the class returned - making sure he'd not been messing about.

Here's one I came across the other day. I don't know where it comes from or who wrote it, but it just caught my eye.

The sand of the dessert is sodden red,
The Gatlings jammed and the Colonel's dead,
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed it's banks,
And England's far, and honour a name,
But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks -
"Play up! Play up and play the game.

1. O soldier, soldier, won't you marry me
With your musket fife and drum?
O no sweet maid I cannot marry you
For I have no coat to put on.
So up she went to her grandfather's chest
And she got him a coat of the very, very best
And the soldier put it on.

2. O soldier, soldier, won't you marry me
With your musket fife and drum?
O no sweet maid I cannot marry you
For I have no hat to put on.
So up she went to her grandfather's chest
And she got him a hat of the very, very best
And the soldier put it on.

3. O soldier, soldier, won't you marry me
With your musket fife and drum?
O no sweet maid I cannot marry you
For I have no gloves to put on.
So up she went to her grandfather's chest
And she got him a pair of the very, very best
And the soldier put them on.

4. O soldier, soldier, won't you marry me
With your musket fife and drum?
O no sweet maid I cannot marry you
For I have no boots to put on.
So up she went to her grandfather's chest
And she got him a pair of the very, very best
And the soldier put them on.

5. O soldier, soldier, won't you marry me
With your musket fife and drum?
O no sweet maid I cannot marry you
For I have for I have a wife of my own.

DEDICATION - by Patrick MacGill (1890- ).


From 1000 years of Irish Poetry I speak with a proud tongue of the people who were and the people who are,

The worthy of Ardara, the Rosses and Inishkeel,

My kindred-

The people of the hills and the dark-haired passes

My neighbours on the lift of the brae,

In the lap of the valley.

To them Slainthé!

I speak of the old men,
The wrinkle-rutted,
Who dodder about foot-weary -
For their day is as the day that has been and is no more -
Who warm their feet by the fire,
And recall memories of the times that are gone;
Who kneel in the lamplight and pray
For the peace that has been theirs -
And who beat one dry-veined hand against another
Even in the sun-
For the coldness of death is on them.

I speak of the old women
Who danced to yesterday's fiddle
And dance no longer.
They sit in a quiet place and dream
And see visions
Of what is to come,
Of their issue,
Which has blossomed to manhood and womanhood -
And seeing thus
They are happy
For the day that was leaves no regrets,
And peace is theirs
And perfection.

I speak of the strong men
Who shoulder their burdens in the hot day,
Who stand on the market-place
And bargain in loud voices,
Showing their stock to the world.
Straight the glance of their eyes -
Broad-shouldered,
Supple.
Under their feet the holms blossom,
The harvest yields.
The their path is of prosperity.

I speak of the women,
Strong hipped, full-bosomed,
Who drive the cattle to graze at dawn,
Who milk the cows at dusk.
Grace in their homes,
And in the crowded ways
Modest and seemly -
Mother of children!

I speak of the children
Of the many townlands,
Blossoms of the Bogland,
Flowers of the Valley,
Who know not yesterday, nor to-morrow,
And are happy,
The pride of those who have begot them.

And thus it is,
Every and always,
In Ardara, the Rosses and Inishkeel -
Here, as elsewhere,
The Weak, the Strong, and the Blossoming -
And thus my kindred.

To them Slainthe!

Learn from other peoples mistakes,
you couldn't live long enough to make them all yourself

Princess Elizabeth's (later Elizabeth 1st) reaction to the beheading of Thomas Seymour with whom she was accused of 'cavorting'

'This day died a man of much wit,
And very little judgement'.

"These days, a man has to be ready to defend himself against being rich as if it were one of the worst of crimes".

In a world that preaches an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,it's just a matter of time until we are ll blind and toothless

'Children can be taught by the eloquent silence of example'.

Love all
Trust few
Always paddle your own canoe

If the fates decree your'e going to lose always give them a damn good fight.

When all else fails be an actor my friend.

Mountains can talk about a range of hills.

Cheer up! Things are never so bad that they can't get worse.

She who from April dates her years,
Diamonds shall wear, lest bitter tears
For vain repentance flow; this tone
Emblem of innocence, is known

Gregorian birthstone calendar

She had a tongue sharp enough to cut a hedge.

where there's a will there's a relative

a friend in need is a pain in the >>>>>>>>

How sharper than a Serpents tooth,
It is to have a thankless child.

I feel quite ashamed that as the person who started this super thread I have not added anything for a while :-0 :-0 :-\
I will find something today or tomorrow !

Mean while thank you to each and everyone who has kept this alive

Bridget

A poem for May

For winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.


Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837–1909)
Atalanta in Calydon (1865)

Hope you like this prose

Bridget