Poetry here.

What is art? What is beauty?

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Hjarloprillar
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Re: Poetry here.

Post by Hjarloprillar »

"Philosophy is the study of general and fundamental problems, such as those connected with reality, existence, knowledge, values, reason, mind, and language."
[wiki]

Which groups art and science as subfolders in the gestalt of human mind. All covered by philosohy.

I have always admitted it.
My method of understanding 'is' science method.
without lies or desire [well i try hard on that one]

The house that Prill built

Come away, O human child: To the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
[William Butler Yeats]

Prill
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Hjarloprillar
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Re: Poetry here.

Post by Hjarloprillar »

Others, I am not the first,
Have willed more mischief than they durst:
If in the breathless night I too
Shiver now, 'tis nothing new.

More than I, if truth were told,
Have stood and sweated hot and cold,
And through their reins in ice and fire
Fear contended with desire.

Agued once like me were they,
But I like them shall win my way
Lastly to the bed of mould
Where there's neither heat nor cold.

But from my grave across my brow
Plays no wind of healing now,
And fire and ice within me fight
Beneath the suffocating night.

A.E. Housman

i shiver reading this. i read it to my kid when she was 12.. she cried. we have a bond that passes friend.
a year earlier i showed her ozymandias. she spent weeks learning shelley, and ˌɒziˈmændiəs far more than i.
she trusts implicitly.
i thank circumstance for the existence i have
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Hjarloprillar
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Re: Poetry here.

Post by Hjarloprillar »

"The grave is a fine and quiet place. But none i fear do there embrace"
written by who..? i cant find author.
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Hjarloprillar
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Re: Poetry here.

Post by Hjarloprillar »

"Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell’s heart I stab at thee; for hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee. Sink all coffins and all hearses to one common pool! and since neither can be mine, let me then tow to pieces, while still chasing thee, though tied to thee, thou damned whale! Thus, I give up the spear!"
- Moby Dick, Herman Melville

my opinion of human society
this life i have . so undeserved so overwhelming.
cannot be wasted.. i must fight for right to exist or i am no better than an unthinking stone.
my weapon is mind. life the final frontier. my mission to seek out new thought. new ideas, to go where few have gone before

prill
thedoc
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Re: Poetry here.

Post by thedoc »

Hjarloprillar wrote:"The grave is a fine and quiet place. But none i fear do there embrace"
written by who..? i cant find author.

http://poetry.rapgenius.com/Andrew-marv ... te-1410644
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Hjarloprillar
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Re: Poetry here.

Post by Hjarloprillar »

Poetry has many fun aspects.

"“A Robin Redbreast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage."
[Blake]

When my kid said a single fly could drive her mad.

i rewrote

"A fly and Sasha in a cage drives apoplectic rage"

:)

she loved it
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Hjarloprillar
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Re: Poetry here.

Post by Hjarloprillar »

thedoc wrote:
Hjarloprillar wrote:"The grave is a fine and quiet place. But none i fear do there embrace"
written by who..? i cant find author.

http://poetry.rapgenius.com/Andrew-marv ... te-1410644
Doh I had author. the forgot in 2 posts later. too much rum.
tbieter
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Location: St. Paul, Minnesota, USA

Re: Poetry here.

Post by tbieter »

You lads in the UK should be able to identify the title and author of the following poem:

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

My sainted grandmother introduced me to this great English author.
Pluto
Posts: 1856
Joined: Thu May 15, 2008 9:26 pm
Location: Belgium

Re: Poetry here.

Post by Pluto »

You tube advert
You are new
Your boss has created you
You know that you destroy
What comes after you
How can we destroy you
Pluto
Posts: 1856
Joined: Thu May 15, 2008 9:26 pm
Location: Belgium

Re: Poetry here.

Post by Pluto »

Youtube you are bought by google
You know how you have been developed
Into places of multitude here and far
You are for the people mass to include
Commercially it is good that they do so
Moving video is played for eyes to see
Youtube video for all to see
tbieter
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Joined: Wed Oct 17, 2007 6:45 pm
Location: St. Paul, Minnesota, USA

Re: Poetry here.

Post by tbieter »

tbieter wrote:You lads in the UK should be able to identify the title and author of the following poem:

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

My sainted grandmother introduced me to this great English author.
That no one could identify Rudyard Kipling's poem "If" suggests a deficiency in UK literary education. And it demonstrates the intellectual superiority of my sainted grandmother. I wish I knew more about her.
Pluto
Posts: 1856
Joined: Thu May 15, 2008 9:26 pm
Location: Belgium

Re: Poetry here.

Post by Pluto »

Online social network
You have helped me
Why as I was looking
For answers but found none
So online I went and found
Contained in an electrical bubble
Am I as an idea to be turned off
Pluto
Posts: 1856
Joined: Thu May 15, 2008 9:26 pm
Location: Belgium

Re: Poetry here.

Post by Pluto »

Social Network Site
You have given me hours
In front of a screen to talk
With others who are equally
Searching for that which is
Not around, yet too not online
Pushed online into the virtual
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vegetariantaxidermy
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Re: Poetry here.

Post by vegetariantaxidermy »

I love this poem about religious ecstasy. Loreena McKennit made it into a beautiful song and changed it slightly.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHbiXCaEOuI

Dark Night Of The Soul




The Dark Night of the Soul
St John Of the Cross
On a dark night,
Kindled in love with yearnings–oh, happy chance!–
I went forth without being observed,
My house being now at rest.

In darkness and secure,
By the secret ladder, disguised–oh, happy chance!–
In darkness and in concealment,
My house being now at rest.

In the happy night,
In secret, when none saw me,
Nor I beheld aught,
Without light or guide, save that which burned in my
heart.

This light guided me
More surely than the light of noonday
To the place where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me–
A place where none appeared.

Oh, night that guided me,
Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,
Oh, night that joined Beloved with lover,
Lover transformed in the Beloved!

Upon my flowery breast,
Kept wholly for himself alone,
There he stayed sleeping, and I caressed him,
And the fanning of the cedars made a breeze.

The breeze blew from the turret
As I parted his locks;
With his gentle hand he wounded my neck
And caused all my senses to be suspended.

I remained, lost in oblivion;
My face I reclined on the Beloved.
All ceased and I abandoned myself,
Leaving my cares forgotten among the lilies.
Pluto
Posts: 1856
Joined: Thu May 15, 2008 9:26 pm
Location: Belgium

Re: Poetry here.

Post by Pluto »

As society implodes -
becomes debauched and ruined -
suspicion, destruction and death -
run through the streets of culture -
as veins through a body.
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