Poetry ...love it or hate it?

Woops! sorry, posted twice!!

seventimesfive - Try the thread Joys of Winter - a few of us have a dabble at writing our own.....

Thank you * Elegran* ...I had come across it before ...but it still made me

Greatnan I love your poem Vigil - I have printed it our for my D who is relishing her time with her new baby son and it so accuratel depicts her situation - every night is a vigil - tiring, but moments to be treasured, as your poem so wonderfully captures.

One of my favourites is ''The Lady of Shallot'' By Tennyson. I used to declaim it while sailing along the canals in our narrow boat. 'On either side the the river lie long fields of barley and of rye that clothe the wold and reach the sky.....' I feel quite sad that my dgc won't have the pleasure of recalling a poem in its entirety for, as far as I know, there is no time for the learning of poems in today's curriculum. Another poem that I fequently say out loud is 'Slowly, silently now the moon walks the night in her silver shoon. This way and that she peers and sees silver fruit upon silver trees....' Poems for me fill in the gaps when I am lost for words-the poets always say it better!

I agree Hunt,I tink the Grans and Aunties amongst us have to put poetry in the paths of our GCs, my sister is buting book of poetry for my 6year old GD for Christmas. Itoo love "The Lady of Shallot"

Thank you, Mishap. I enjoy writing poetry but I need to be inspired and there is nothing more inspiring than motherhood.

I used to read poetry to my DSs at bedtime, after the nightly story. They were from the Puffin book of verse for children and they loved them at the time, though I have a feeling that school may have changed all that.

I will never forget reading Matilda by Hilaire Belloc to my wide eyed five year old youngest daughter. She is now one of the most honest and straight forward people I know! The power of poetry!

My grandsons would be equally wide-eyed, but would love Matilda for the sensational image of her perishing while shouting for help, and the firemen ruining the house and its contents.

I used to read Wynken Blynken and Nod at bedtime to my elder DD.

Sigh!

I liked Robert Louis Stevenson's train poem as a child. If you read it out loud you can hear the rhythm of the wheels on the tracks, and the last line is cleverly made of words that force you to say them more slowly, as though the train were slowing down.

From a Railway Carriage

FASTER than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
And charging along like troops in a battle,
All through the meadows the horses and cattle:
All of the sights of the hill and the plain
Fly as thick as driving rain;
And ever again, in the wink of an eye,
Painted stations whistle by.

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,
All by himself and gathering brambles;
Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;
And there is the green for stringing the daisies!
Here is a cart run away in the road
Lumping along with man and load;
And here is a mill and there is a river:
Each a glimpse and gone for ever!

The skivvy's epitaph (I don't know its real title but this will do)

Don't weep for me now,
Don't weep for me never.
I'm going to do nothing
For ever and ever.

I've found the rest of it. It goes by various titles - The tired woman's epitaph - The housewife's idea of heaven - An Epitaph.

Here lies an old woman who always was tired,
For she lived in a house where help wasn’t hired.
Her last words on earth were: “Good-by, friends, I’m going
To where there’s no scrubbing and baking and sewing.
And everything there will be just to my wishes,
For where they don’t eat, there’s no washing of dishes.
They say that loud anthems will ever be ringing.
But as I’ve no voice, I’ll get rid of the singing.
Weep not for me now, and weep for me never.
For I’m going to do nothing forever and ever.”

From the Home Science Magazine. May, 1903.

Becoming Sixty

Next year I am going to be sixty
So I thought I should put in some practice.
Today I wore a linen dress and a hat with a brim
And walked rather slowly with my feet turned out
And made my arms swing from side to side
Graciously.

From today I shall use a footstool
And never sit sideways in my chair
With my legs over the arm.
I shall drink my Earl Grey tea
From a cup with a saucer.
I shall go into the garden
With a trug and secateurs
And stop biting off the sweet peas
With my teeth because I won’t
Forget the scissors any more.

Oh! Is that the time?
I must dash and catch the post
Or I’ll be too late for a place in the
Beginners’ Tap Class.

hi there.Did you write this? very Gransnet

Back a while I posted on Gransnet a poem that we included in the order of service for my darling boy, who died aged 19. A Gransnetter pm'd me to say that she found the poem particularly poignant and comforting, as she had lost a grandson. Here it is, I believe that it was part of the late Queen Mothers funeral service, with a change of gender, obviously.

You can shed tears that he is gone
Or you can smile because he has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that he'll come back
or you can open your eyes and see all he's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see him
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember him and only that he's gone
or you can cherish his memory and let it live on
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
or you can do what he'd want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

Phoenix, that poem is so moving. It made me tearful even though I haven't recently been bereaved.

Jess, yes I did write the poem but I feel guilty now because I sent it on impulse and realised later that this forum is not the place for it. This forum is for poems that you have all found and remembered and loved. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it. Could it be deleted please?

Daisy I love it, very appropriate for us here, don't have it deleted,it's lovely.

Does anyone else like the work of Wendy Cope? I read her poem "Flowers" at my husband's funeral.It seemed to describe him so well.
Some men never think of it.You did. You'd come along and say you'd nearly brought me flowers
But something had gone wrong.
The shop was closed. Or you had doubts. The sort that minds like ours
Dream up incessantly. You thought I might not want your flowers.
It made me smile and hug you then.Now I can only smile.
But look, the flowers you nearly brought
Have lasted all this while.
I just felt like sharing it with someone.

sprite

I have just come back to this thread after a break. On Nov 11 Absentgrana posted a poem beginning 'I thought I saw you in a moment out of time'. I nearly wept when I read it. The poem could have been written in memory of my sweet sister who died 20 years ago. Absent, can you give a title and author for the poem?

Wendy Cope's "Haiku"

A perfect white wine
is sharp, sweet and cold as this:
birdsong in winter.

Perfect!

Other favourite poets : Philip Larkin, and John Betjeman.

This, by Larkin, is something I can identify with...

I have started to say
"A quarter of a century"
Or "thirty years back"
About my own life.

It makes me breathless
It's like falling and recovering
In huge gesturing loops
Through an empty sky.

All that's left to happen
Is some deaths (my own included).
Their order, and their manner,
Remain to be learnt.

Once I wouldn't have understood the Larkin poem; sadly, now I do. The haiku is, as you say, perfect. Why can't I write one like that?

He was very young then, wasn't he?! (Larkin)

Quarter of a century! Peanuts!!!