Poet's Corner
poet's corner
Robert Frost.
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Haven't read this entire thread, but did y'all see that precious kid reading Billy Collins "Litany", as well as some other works (Across the Atlantic, and Tennyson's The Eagle)? OMG. I'm in love with this kid because he's in love with poetry. He recites it beautifully.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVu4Me_n91Y
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVu4Me_n91Y
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- Location: Birmingham, Al
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there are tides
there are seasons
of which questions rest
on time and reason
there are beginnings
there are resolutions
and when the curtain falls
reckoning with conclusions
scattered words
fall from the pages
a search for wisdom
down through the ages
and in the end
there's just you and me
and we just disagree
there are seasons
of which questions rest
on time and reason
there are beginnings
there are resolutions
and when the curtain falls
reckoning with conclusions
scattered words
fall from the pages
a search for wisdom
down through the ages
and in the end
there's just you and me
and we just disagree
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- Joined: Thu Jul 17, 2003 2:31 am
Reluctance by Robert Frost
Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.
The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.
And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last long aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question 'Whither?'
Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?
Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.
The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.
And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last long aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question 'Whither?'
Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?
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- Location: London
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- Location: Cicely, Alaska
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Happy Spring!
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free
-- Wendell Berry
When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free
-- Wendell Berry
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- Joined: Thu Jul 17, 2003 2:31 am
Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I
And hailed the earth with such a cry
As is not heard save from a man
Who has been dead, and lives again.
About the trees my arms I wound;
Like one gone mad I hugged the ground;
I raised my quivering arms on high;
I laughed and laughed into the sky,
from Renascence
Edna St. Vincent Millay
thank you,
half
And hailed the earth with such a cry
As is not heard save from a man
Who has been dead, and lives again.
About the trees my arms I wound;
Like one gone mad I hugged the ground;
I raised my quivering arms on high;
I laughed and laughed into the sky,
from Renascence
Edna St. Vincent Millay
thank you,
half
He is a weird dude (duh). It is jarring seeing a guy dressed like Peter Pan when you are out and about. I have a friend that made the mistake of talking to him at a show. This was before he met his Tinkerbell. He benignly bugged her for awhile.half-n-half wrote:this doesn't surprise me.dcarter wrote:Also, that Peter pan dude lives inTampa.
He is somewhat Tampa's Beatle Bob except he doesn't really disrupt shows. he is just a character that is around.
http://pixyland.org/peterpan/
His website is either a hoot or disturbing, depending on your view. He has 'interesting' non-Peter Pan costumes on there. I believe that he is also a poet. So it's come full circle.
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