Weekly/Fortnightly Poetry Suggestions

Short Poetry Collections, Short Story Collections, and our Weekly Poetry Project
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msfry
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Post by msfry » June 22nd, 2019, 7:33 am

I could BC this sometime.
https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Stops_of_Various_Quills/Hope

HOPE , by William Dean Howells

We sailed and sailed upon the desert sea
Where for whole days we alone seemed to be.
At last we saw a dim, vague line arise
Between the empty billows and the skies,
That grew and grew until it wore the shape
Of cove and inlet, promontory and cape;
Then hills and valleys, rivers, fields, and woods,
Steeples and roofs, and village neighborhoods.
And then I thought, "Sometime I shall embark
Upon a sea more desert and more dark
Than ever this was, and between the skies
And empty billows I shall see arise
Another world out of that waste and lapse,
Like yonder land. Perhaps—perhaps—perhaps!"⁠
Michele Fry, CC
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"If we admit a First Cause, the mind still craves to know whence it came and how it arose." ~Albert Einstein

KevinS
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Post by KevinS » July 21st, 2019, 9:00 am

Binsey Poplars

felled 1879

My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled,
Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun,
All felled, felled, are all felled;
Of a fresh and following folded rank
Not spared, not one
That dandled a sandalled
Shadow that swam or sank
On meadow & river & wind-wandering weed-winding bank.

O if we but knew what we do
When we delve or hew —
Hack and rack the growing green!
Since country is so tender
To touch, her being só slender,
That, like this sleek and seeing ball
But a prick will make no eye at all,
Where we, even where we mean
To mend her we end her,
When we hew or delve:
After-comers cannot guess the beauty been.
Ten or twelve, only ten or twelve
Strokes of havoc unselve
The sweet especial scene,
Rural scene, a rural scene,
Sweet especial rural scene.

BY GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44390/binsey-poplars

I could find another source, if need be.

A challenging poem in the reading, I think. It would be interesting to hear how others interpret this. (And I love the word 'unselve.')
"E agora, José?"

KevinS
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Post by KevinS » July 21st, 2019, 9:02 am

Oh, the accent on 'só' is Hopkins at work in his way. It can be ignored.
"E agora, José?"

leanneyauyau
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Post by leanneyauyau » August 8th, 2019, 4:54 am

Have we done this?

Dulce et Decorum Est
BY WILFRED OWEN

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Leanne (leanneyauyau) :9:
my librivox page | website | fb page

TriciaG
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Post by TriciaG » August 8th, 2019, 5:24 am

The Panama Canal Zone during construction: Zone Policeman 88
Report of the President's Commission on Immigration and Naturalization (1953)
Christmas Lore: LINK
Proofs The Earth Isn't a Globe! LINK

msfry
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Post by msfry » August 8th, 2019, 6:31 am

leanneyauyau wrote:
August 8th, 2019, 4:54 am
Have we done this?

Dulce et Decorum Est
BY WILFRED OWEN
You can always find out by putting the title or author in the search bar on the home page. Yes, it's been done in a Poetry Weekly back in 2008, and 10 more times in various collections!!!!!
Michele Fry, CC
My Projects
"If we admit a First Cause, the mind still craves to know whence it came and how it arose." ~Albert Einstein

msfry
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Post by msfry » August 8th, 2019, 7:37 am

Here's one I could BC sometime. Published in 1881

Ina D. Coolbrith
Fruitionless

Text Source: https://www.bartleby.com/248/967.html

AH! little flower, upspringing, azure-eyed,
The meadow-brook beside,
Dropping delicious balms
Into the tender palms
Of lover-winds, that woo with light caress,
In still contentedness,
Living and blooming thy brief summer-day: —
So, wiser far than I,
That only dream and sigh,
And, sighing, dream my listless life away.

Ah! sweetheart birds, a-building your wee house
In the broad-leavëd boughs,
Pausing with merry trill
To praise each other’s skill,
And nod your pretty heads with pretty pride;
Serenely satisfied
To trill and twitter love’s sweet roundelay: —
So, happier than I,
That, lonely, dream and sigh,
And, sighing, dream my lonely life away.

Brown-bodied bees, that scent with nostrils fine
The odorous blossom-wine,
Sipping, with heads half thrust
Into the pollen dust
Of rose and hyacinth and daffodil,
To hive, in amber cell,
A honey feasting for the winter-day: —
So, better far than I,
Self-wrapt, that dream and sigh,
And, sighing, dream my useless life away.
Michele Fry, CC
My Projects
"If we admit a First Cause, the mind still craves to know whence it came and how it arose." ~Albert Einstein

aradlaw
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Post by aradlaw » August 8th, 2019, 8:07 am

msfry wrote:
August 8th, 2019, 7:37 am
Here's one I could BC sometime. Published in 1881

Ina D. Coolbrith
Fruitionless
Good one Michele, you can set this up as the Fortnightly this weekend if you wish. :D
David Lawrence

* Weekly & Fortnightly Poetry - Check out the Short Works forum for the latest projects!

msfry
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Post by msfry » August 8th, 2019, 9:24 am

aradlaw wrote:
August 8th, 2019, 8:07 am
msfry wrote:
August 8th, 2019, 7:37 am
Here's one I could BC sometime. Published in 1881

Ina D. Coolbrith
Fruitionless
Good one Michele, you can set this up as the Fortnightly this weekend if you wish. :D
WILL DO!
Michele Fry, CC
My Projects
"If we admit a First Cause, the mind still craves to know whence it came and how it arose." ~Albert Einstein

leanneyauyau
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Post by leanneyauyau » August 8th, 2019, 9:45 pm

I've checked that Librivox does do NC-17 works such as the Erotica Romana and that piece by Kate Percival (https://librivox.org/the-life-and-amours-of-the-beautiful-gay-and-dashing-kate-percival-the-belle-of-the-delaware-by-kate-percival/). I was trawling around on Wikisource and came upon this surprising delight - https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Pearl

The Pearl is a collection of erotic tales, rhymes, songs and parodies in magazine form that were published in London between 1879 to 1880, when they were forced to shut down by the authorities for publishing rude and obscene literature. There are 18 volumes (plus a Christmas Annual in 1881), and they're not that long.

If you're looking for poetry in particular, here's a list of poetry submissions to The Pearl: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Portal:Erotic_poetry

Some of the material's very shocking indeed :oops: but if anyone's up for doing some NSFW work, this would be the place to look.
Leanne (leanneyauyau) :9:
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msfry
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Post by msfry » September 1st, 2019, 11:13 am

Here's something love-sick sweet and pathetic, not yet in LV's catalog. Should be fun to read and we can surely do better than this computer generated recitation!!!!!https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-arise-from-dreams-of-thee/
I can BC this whenever you have a slot to fill.

I Arise From Dreams Of Thee
Percy Bysshe Shelley

I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Has led me - who knows how? -
To thy chamber-window, sweet!

The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream, -
The champak odors fall
Like sweet thoughts in a dream,
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart,
As I must die on thine,
O, beloved as thou art!

O, lift me from the grass!
I die, I faint, I fall!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale,
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My Heart beats loud and fast
Oh! press it close to thine again,
Where it will break at last!
Michele Fry, CC
My Projects
"If we admit a First Cause, the mind still craves to know whence it came and how it arose." ~Albert Einstein

Peter Why
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Post by Peter Why » September 23rd, 2019, 8:27 am

A liitle Jonathan Swift poem. There's a programme on the BBC this afternoon about market cries and the way musicians and poets have preserved them, and I thought I'd see if we've already done this one. We haven't.
Peter


Jonathan Swift (1667-1745) - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jonathan_Swift

The poem's on Bartleby: https://www.bartleby.com/250/7.html

Market Women's Cries

APPLES

COME buy my fine wares,
Plums, apples and pears.
A hundred a penny,
In conscience too many:
Come, will you have any?
My children are seven,
I wish them in Heaven;
My husband ’s a sot,
With his pipe and his pot,
Not a farthen will gain them,
And I must maintain them.

ONIONS

Come, follow me by the smell,
Here are delicate onions to sell;
I promise to use you well.
They make the blood warmer,
You’ll feed like a farmer;
For this is every cook’s opinion,
No savoury dish without an onion;
But, lest your kissing should be spoiled,
Your onions must be thoroughly boiled:
Or else you may spare
Your mistress a share,
The secret will never be known:
She cannot discover
The breath of her lover,
But think it as sweet as her own.

HERRINGS

Be not sparing,
Leave off swearing.
Buy my herring
Fresh from Malahide,
Better never was tried.
Come, eat them with pure fresh butter and mustard,
Their bellies are soft, and as white as a custard.
Come, sixpence a dozen, to get me some bread,
Or, like my own herrings, I soon shall be dead.
"I think, therefore I am, I think." Solomon Cohen, in Terry Pratchett's Dodger

sarahrejoice
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Post by sarahrejoice » October 2nd, 2019, 1:57 pm

Greetings all. May I suggest the poem "October" by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik as a weekly or fortnightly poetry selection at some point this month? It can be found at: https://www.bartleby.com/297/542.html

Thanks for considering it! :)
“Ah, how good it is to be among people who are reading.” –Rainer Maria Rilke

Peter Why
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Location: Chigwell (North-East London, U.K.)

Post by Peter Why » November 5th, 2019, 1:26 am

I'd like to suggest a sad little poem for our weekly collection:

Nocturne: in Anjou

I dreamed of Sappho on a summer night.
Her nightingales were singing in the trees
Beside the castled river; and the wind
Fell like a woman's fingers on my cheek.
And then I slept and dreamed and marked no change;
The night went on with me into my dream.
This only I remember, that I cried:
"O Sappho! ere I leave this paradise,
Sing me one song of those lost books of yours
For which we poets still go sorrowing;
That when I meet my fellows on the earth
I may rejoice them more than many pearls;"
And she, the sweetly smiling, answered me,
As one who dreams, "I have forgotten them."

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/18007/18007-h/18007-h.htm#IN_ANJOU


From More Songs from Vagabondia, by Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey

https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18007

Peter
"I think, therefore I am, I think." Solomon Cohen, in Terry Pratchett's Dodger

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