Small text iconNormal text iconLarge text icon

INTERACTION

 FAQFAQ   SearchSearch   MembersMembers   GroupsGroups   RegisterRegister 
 User Control PanelUser Control Panel      LoginLogin 


All times are UTC




Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 680 posts ]  Go to page Previous  1 ... 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22 ... 46  Next
Author Message
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Wed Oct 24, 2007 5:20 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Wed May 02, 2007 8:30 pm
Posts: 362
Location: Barnsley, England
I have to admit that I'm more of a fan or Gerald Durrell over his brother :) I've loved "My family and other animals" since it was forced on me at school (unlike "Lord of the Flies") but never managed to get to grips with Lorrie.

I know that I promised no more lyrics, but how about these from a Rhodes Scholar?

Here Comes That Rainbow Again
Kris Kristofferson

The scene was a small roadside cafe
The waitress was sweepin' the floor
Two truck-drivers drinkin' their coffee
And two okie-kids by the door
How much are them candies, they asked her
How much have you got, she replied
We've only a penny between us
Them's two for a penny, she lied

Chorus:
And the daylight grew heavy with thunder
And the smell of the rain on the wind
Ain't it just like a human
Here comes that rainbow again

One truckdriver called to the waitress
After the kids went outside
Them candies ain't two for a penny
So what's it to you, she replied
In silence they finished their coffee
Got up and nodded goodbye
She called, hey, you left too much money
So what's it to you, they replied

Chorus


And to make up for it (and totally unconnected):

Animal Tranquility and Decay
by William Wordsworth

The little hedgerow birds,
That peck along the roads, regard him not.
He travels on, and in his face, his step,
His gait, is one expression: every limb,
His look and bending figure, all bespeak
A man who does not move with pain, but moves
With thought. -- He is insensibly subdued
To settled quiet: he is one by whom
All effort seems forgotten; one to whom
Long patience hath such mild composure given,
That patience now doth seem a thing of which
He hath no need. He is by nature led
To peace so perfect that the young behold
With envy, what the Old Man hardly feels.

_________________
Jo Thomas
http://www.journeymouse.net/


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Thu Oct 25, 2007 7:57 am 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Jun 05, 2007 7:19 am
Posts: 243
Location: Sheffield, UK
Journeymouse wrote:
I have to admit that I'm more of a fan or Gerald Durrell over his brother :) I've loved "My family and other animals" since it was forced on me at school (unlike "Lord of the Flies") but never managed to get to grips with Lorrie.


I'm a big fan of Lawrence Durrell - the Alexandria Quartet is one of my favourite novels (or, er, novel series). He was known as a poet before he become known as a writer. Here's the first verse of his 'Near Paphos':

Her sea limps up here twice a day
And sigh by leaden sigh deposes
Crude granite heft and sponges
Sucked smooth as foreheads and noses;
No footprints dove the labouring sand,
For terrene clays bake smooth
But coarse as a gipsy's hand.


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Thu Oct 25, 2007 11:09 am 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Wed May 02, 2007 8:30 pm
Posts: 362
Location: Barnsley, England
Moral of the story being, I have no culture :wink: I think I need to work on this...

_________________
Jo Thomas
http://www.journeymouse.net/


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Thu Oct 25, 2007 8:09 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Mar 06, 2007 12:46 am
Posts: 2504
Journeymouse wrote:
Moral of the story being, I have no culture :wink: I think I need to work on this...


:lol: Oh, I don't know. I rather liked the Kristofferson!
Came across this today. I recall loving this poem years ago:

Barely a twelvemonth after
The seven days war that put the world to sleep,
Late in the evening the strange horses came.
By then we had made our covenant with silence,
But in the first few days it was so still
We listened to our breathing and were afraid.
On the second day
The radios failed; we turned the knobs, no answer.
On the third day a warship passed us, headed north,
Dead bodies piled on the deck. On the sixth day
A plane plunged over us into the sea. Thereafter
Nothing. The radios dumb;
And still they stand in corners of our kitchens,
And stand, perhaps, turned on, in a million rooms
All over the world. But now if they should speak,
If on a sudden they should speak again,
If on the stroke of noon a voice should speak,
We would not listen, we would not let it bring
That old bad world that swallowed its children quick
At one great gulp. We would not have it again.
Sometimes we think of the nations lying asleep,
Curled blindly in impenetrable sorrow,
And then the thought confounds us with its strangeness.
The tractors lie about our fields; at evening
They look like dank sea-monsters crouched and waiting.
We leave them where they are and let them rust:
"They'll molder away and be like other loam."
We make our oxen drag our rusty plows,
Long laid aside. We have gone back
Far past our fathers' land.
And then, that evening
Late in the summer the strange horses came.
We heard a distant tapping on the road,
A deepening drumming; it stopped, went on again
And at the corner changed to hollow thunder.
We saw the heads
Like a wild wave charging and were afraid.
We had sold our horses in our fathers' time
To buy new tractors. Now they were strange to us
As fabulous steeds set on an ancient shield
Or illustrations in a book of knights.
We did not dare go near them. Yet they waited,
Stubborn and shy, as if they had been sent
By an old command to find our whereabouts
And that long-lost archaic companionship.
In the first moment we had never a thought
That they were creatures to be owned and used.
Among them were some half a dozen colts
Dropped in some wilderness of the broken world,
Yet new as if they had come from their own Eden.
Since then they have pulled our ploughs and borne our loads,
But that free servitude still can pierce our hearts.
Our life is changed; their coming our beginning.

Edwin Muir


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Wed Oct 31, 2007 10:12 am 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Mon Apr 23, 2007 9:25 am
Posts: 636
Location: Sussex Coast
Here's another daft parody wot I wrote - Big Bill's Sonnet 18, this time. It came out of a thread on the late-lamented BBC Books board, where the topic of discussion was which you preferred out of poetry and chocolate (though by this point I think it may have mutated into lovers vs chocolate).

To be honest, I'd forgotten I'd written it until someone resurrected it on another board this morning!


Poets vs Chocolate

Shall I compare thee to a Milky Way?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
But hands do shake abstaining for one day,
And nothing cures the blues like chocolate.
Sometimes one can grow sick of Twix or Dimes
Though never quite sufficient to be thinned,
And every Dairy Milk that is declined
Will lead to one more diet being binned.
And thy eternal beauty may not fade,
But even so, this truth for sure thou know'st
My vote is quite apparent when I'm weighed
And in external signs: my waistline grow'st.
So long as I have breath and eyes to see,
So long is chocolate favoured over thee.

Mike Alexander - 963rd post - 27 may 2004

_________________
http://www.scan-tech.co.uk/mikealx
http://www.myspace.com/veldtmusic
Folder printing high quality presentation folders


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 9:58 am 
Offline

Joined: Mon Mar 05, 2007 10:06 pm
Posts: 2324
Location: Clacton-on-Sea
Sir John Betjeman's statue at the restored St Pancras Station:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/london/7070724.stm

Another poet - Thomas Hardy - has a less well known (gruesome?) connection with St Pancras Station;
http://www.otctheatre.co.uk/productions.htm

des

APPENDIX
QUOTED FROM INTERNET:
But there are much stronger associations between this episode and later poems. One such poem, "The Levelled Churchyard," is about exactly the situation at St Pancras. In manuscript, this poem has the deleted title "W — -e Minster" (CP, p.958, n.). It was written in Wimborne, Dorset, where Hardy and Emma moved in 1881, and there is some controversy over how much Hardy refers to the churchyard of the beautiful old local church, which had also been restored in fairly recent years, and how much (if at all) to the bygone experience in London. Robert Gittings provides a compromise, pointing out that this was the time when Hardy and Blomfield met again and exchanged memories of St Pancras, and suggesting that Hardy "exploited"(p. 407) the earlier experience in this poem inspired by the minster:

"O passenger, pray list and catch
Our sighs and piteous groans,
Half stifled in this jumbled patch
Of wrenched memorial stones!


"We late-lamented, resting here,
Are mixed to human jam,
And each to each exclaims in fear,
'I know not which I am!'

"The wicked people have annexed
The verses on the good;
A roaring drunkard sports the text
Teetotal Tommy should!

"Where we are huddled none can trace,
And if our names remain,
They pave some path or p-ing place
Where we have never lain!

"There's not a modest maiden elf
But dreads the final Trumpet,
Lest half of her should rise herself,
And half some local strumpet!

"From restorations of Thy fane,
From smoothings of Thy sward,
From zealous Churchmen's pick and plane
Deliver us O Lord! Amen!"

===========
That's the full text of 'The Levelled Churchyard" (1882) by Thomas Hardy. Well, I wonder if this does indeed have anything to do with the levelling of the ground (and corpses) for St Pancras Station?
I love in particular:

"We late-lamented, resting here,
Are mixed to human jam,
And each to each exclaims in fear,
'I know not which I am!'

des

_________________
MY WEBSITE: www.nemonymous.com


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 5:40 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Mar 06, 2007 12:46 am
Posts: 2504
:lol: It also reminds me of the school lunch queue!
Marion


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 6:37 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Jun 05, 2007 7:19 am
Posts: 243
Location: Sheffield, UK
All this poetising has inspired me to have a bash. Prose I can do - although I've yet to demonstrate it to an editor's satisfaction. However, I suspect I may have bitten off more than I can chew when it comes poetry...

Jupiter Quartet 1: Io
Ejecta like fine hair sprays into space;
She gazes at the volcano and yearns
That she too could be thrown into orbit,
And possess the velocity to escape.
Reject a radio whisper, say no:
For so long she held strong – but the shame burns!
The science trip on Io’s hot surface:
Hidden ‘neath clouds of sulphur, she said yes.

For that fleeting pleasure, she must wander
In bovine simplicity through Jove’s sky,
Cross orbits of moons but not people, her
Only armour distance, his wife’s gadfly
Jealousy - ever-sharp and stinging spur.
Three bodies. And he the centre of mass.

_________________
http://iansales.com/


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 10:40 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Mar 06, 2007 12:46 am
Posts: 2504
Clever, ian - all springing from the dust clouds! I liked 'Hidden 'neath sulphurous clouds' - a little touch of sin and hell. (why is she conscience stricken with burning shame?)And then the endless gossamer attachment to the 'centre of mass.'

Clever!


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 11:10 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Jun 05, 2007 7:19 am
Posts: 243
Location: Sheffield, UK
Perhaps I should try submitting it somewhere...

:-)

_________________
http://iansales.com/


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 11:12 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Mar 06, 2007 12:46 am
Posts: 2504
What do you have to lose?


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Wed Nov 14, 2007 8:26 am 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Jun 05, 2007 7:19 am
Posts: 243
Location: Sheffield, UK
I made a couple of small changes -

The science trip on Io’s hot surface: -> The trip on Io’s tubulent surface:

... and

In bovine simplicity through Jove’s sky, -> In bovine placidity through Jove’s sky,

... and then fired it off to a paying webzine. So, fingers crossed :-)

_________________
http://iansales.com/


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Wed Nov 14, 2007 12:14 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Jun 05, 2007 7:19 am
Posts: 243
Location: Sheffield, UK
Here's the 2nd one - I don't think it works as well as the 1st.

Jupiter Quartet 2: Europa
With bullish determination, they came
Demanding food. They were dying - nothing
To trade, no currency to buy. They stole
Europa to their moon sharing her name,
Made her a palace of ice 'neath black skies,
Queen of craters and lineae. Hoping
Against hope their worship of her would save
Them, keep their name alive in the heavens.

Beneath the ice, in waters of warmth lay
Their salvation, if they would only look
Down. Not as above, so below. But they
Could not see, would not listen - their gaze stuck
On Europa, their queen. But came the day
She gave life in amniotic oceans.

_________________
http://iansales.com/


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Wed Nov 14, 2007 4:33 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Mar 06, 2007 12:46 am
Posts: 2504
iansales wrote:
I made a couple of small changes -

The science trip on Io’s hot surface: -> The trip on Io’s tubulent surface:

I prefer this - it seems to echo the idea of error or slipping off the primrose path!

... and

In bovine simplicity through Jove’s sky, -> In bovine placidity through Jove’s sky,
This is better too - implies an animal like quality which is what her error was!

... and then fired it off to a paying webzine. So, fingers crossed :-)


Consider them crossed...


Top
 Profile  
 
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Wed Nov 14, 2007 4:39 pm 
Offline
User avatar

Joined: Tue Mar 06, 2007 12:46 am
Posts: 2504
iansales wrote:
Here's the 2nd one - I don't think it works as well as the 1st.

Jupiter Quartet 2: Europa
With bullish determination, they came
Demanding food. They were dying - nothing
To trade, no currency to buy. They stole
Europa to their moon sharing her name,
Made her a palace of ice 'neath black skies,
Queen of craters and lineae. Hoping
Against hope their worship of her would save
Them, keep their name alive in the heavens.

Beneath the ice, in waters of warmth lay
Their salvation, if they would only look
Down. Not as above, so below. But they
Could not see, would not listen - their gaze stuck
On Europa, their queen. But came the day
She gave life in amniotic oceans.


I liked the mingling of astronomic terms and the Europa bull legend.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Europa_(moon)

Not sure about the emaning of the 'not as above, so below' line.

Liked 'the palace of ice' and the concealed warmth below.


Top
 Profile  
 
Display posts from previous:  Sort by  
Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 680 posts ]  Go to page Previous  1 ... 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22 ... 46  Next

All times are UTC


Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest


You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot post attachments in this forum

Search for:
Jump to:  
cron
Powered by phpBB® Forum Software © phpBB Group