FabSwingers.com forum: Poems, poems, poems

By *stella OP Woman
over a year ago

London

I’ve been reading a poem a day, and thoroughly enjoying discovering new ones.

Which poems would you recommend me, either old favourites or new discoveries?

Here’s one from me to you.

Marrysong - by Dennis Scott

He never learned her, quite. Year after year

That territory, without seasons, shifted

under his eye. An hour he could be lost

in the walled anger of her quarried hurt

on turning, see cool water laughing where

the day before there were stones in her voice.

He charted. She made wilderness again.

Roads disappeared. The map was never true.

Wind brought him rain sometimes, tasting of sea -

and suddenly she would change the shape of shores

faultlessly calm. All, all was each day new;

the shadows of her love shortened or grew

like trees seen from an unexpected hill,

new country at each jaunty helpless journey.

So he accepted that geography, constantly strange.

Wondered. Stayed home increasingly to find

his way among the landscapes of her mind.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

This Be The Verse

BY PHILIP LARKIN

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn

By fools in old-style hats and coats,

Who half the time were soppy-stern

And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

And don’t have any kids yourself.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

I write my own..sometimes I ll read Browning or Keats or Wordsworth to get my mind in tune..poetry can be so very beautiful.

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By *stella OP Woman
over a year ago

London

"I write my own..sometimes I ll read Browning or Keats or Wordsworth to get my mind in tune..poetry can be so very beautiful.

Oh! Would you be willing to tell us one of your own?

Also, funplay - the Larkin one is brilliant

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By *nabelle21Woman
over a year ago

B38

"I write my own..sometimes I ll read Browning or Keats or Wordsworth to get my mind in tune..poetry can be so very beautiful.

Oh! Would you be willing to tell us one of your own?

Also, funplay - the Larkin one is brilliant

It is brilliant..one I'll remember. And I don't do poetry.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

"This Be The Verse

BY PHILIP LARKIN

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn

By fools in old-style hats and coats,

Who half the time were soppy-stern

And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

And don’t have any kids yourself."

Very similar to ones I ve written on same subject as it relates to my history...good parents are great parents..bad ones are downright dangerous and unhealthy...thankfully I write more of the beautiful things in life and nature now..

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

When the battle scars have faded

And the truth becomes a lie

And the weekend smell of liniment

Could almost make you cry.

When the last rucks well behind you

And the man that ran now walks

It doesn’t matter who you are

The mirror sometimes talks

Have a good hard look old son!

The melons not that great

The snoz that takes a sharp turn sideways

Used to be dead straight

You’re an advert for arthritis

You’re a thoroughbred gone lame

Then you ask yourself the question

Why the hell you played the game?

Was there logic in the head knocks?

In the corks and in the cuts?

Did common sense get pushed aside?

By manliness and guts?

Do you sometimes sit and wonder

Why your time would often pass

In a tangled mess of bodies

With your head up someone’s......?

With a thumb hooked up your nostril

Scratching gently on your brain

And an overgrown Neanderthal

Rejoicing in your pain!

Mate – you must recall the jersey

That was shredded into rags

Then the soothing sting of Dettol

On a back engraved with tags!

It’s almost worth admitting

Though with some degree of shame

That your wife was right in asking

Why the hell you played the game?

Why you’d always rock home legless

Like a cow on roller skates

After drinking at the clubhouse

With your low down d r u n k e n mates (censor kicked in !)

Then you’d wake up – check your wallet

Not a solitary coin

Drink bitter by the bucket

Throw an ice pack on your groin

Copping Sunday morning sermons

About boozers being losers

While you limped like Quasimodo

With a half a thousand bruises!

Yes – an urge to hug the porcelain

And curse Tetley’s name

Would always pose the question

Why the hell you played the game!

And yet with every wound re-opened

As you grimly reminisce it

Comes the most compelling feeling yet

God, you bloody miss it!

From the first time that you laced a boot

And tightened every stud

That virus known as rugby

Has been living in your blood

When you dreamt it when you played it

All the rest took second fiddle

Now you’re standing on the sideline

But your hearts still in the middle

And no matter where you travel

You can take it as expected

There will always be a breed of people

Hopelessly infected

If there’s a teammate, then you’ll find him

Like a gravitating force

With a common understanding

And a beer or three, of course

And as you stand there telling lies

Like it was yesterday old friend

You’ll know that if you had the chance

You’d do it all again

You see – that’s the thing with rugby

It will always be the same

And that, I guarantee

Is why the hell you played the game!

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

"I write my own..sometimes I ll read Browning or Keats or Wordsworth to get my mind in tune..poetry can be so very beautiful.

Oh! Would you be willing to tell us one of your own?

Also, funplay - the Larkin one is brilliant

I ll see if I can lay my hands on one similar to the one you posted

but it would be later.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

TWAT by John Cooper Clarke

Like a Night Club in the morning, you’re the bitter end

Like a recently disinfected shit-house, you’re clean round the bend

You give me the horrors

Too bad to be true

All of my tomorrow’s

Are lousy coz of you

You put the Shat in Shatter

Put the Pain in Spain

Your germs are splattered about

Your face is just a stain

You’re certainly no raver, commonly known as a drag

Do us all a favour, here… wear this polythene bag

You’re like a dose of scabies

I’ve got you under my skin

You make life a fairy tale… Grimm!

People mention murder, the moment you arrive

I’d consider killing you if I thought you were alive

You’ve got this slippery quality

It makes me think of phlegm

And a dual personality

I hate both of them

Your bad breath, vamps disease, destruction, and decay

Please, please, please, please, take yourself away

Like a death a birthday party

You ruin all the fun

Like a sucked and spat our smartie

you’re no use to anyone

Like the shadow of the guillotine

On a dead consumptive’s face

Speaking as an outsider

What do you think of the human race

You went to a progressive psychiatrist

He recommended suicide…

Before scratching your bad name off his list

And pointing the way outside

You hear laughter breaking through, it makes you want to fart

You’re heading for a breakdown

Better pull yourself apart

Your dirty name gets passed about when something goes amiss

Your attitudes are platitudes

Just make me wanna piss

What kind of creature bore you

Was is some kind of bat

They can’t find a good word for you

But I can…

TWAT

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By *he Mac LassWoman
over a year ago

Hefty Hideaway

I'm completely in love with the poetry of Hieu Minh Nguyen. He is brutally honest about body issues and tackles subjects such as diabetes and abuse. He is a wonderful wordsmith. Go look him up.

Personally my own poetry exists to amuse myself but I would love to publish it all in a few years.

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By *uttercup and WestleyCouple
over a year ago

Merseyside

The road not taken by Robert Frost

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By *eliWoman
over a year ago

Caged Bird by Maya Angelou

I'm only going to include a paragraph because it is rather long but this is my flavour of poetry right now.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.

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By *nabelle21Woman
over a year ago

B38

"Caged Bird by Maya Angelou

I'm only going to include a paragraph because it is rather long but this is my flavour of poetry right now.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom."

That's pretty powerful

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By *stella OP Woman
over a year ago

London

"Caged Bird by Maya Angelou

I'm only going to include a paragraph because it is rather long but this is my flavour of poetry right now.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom."

Adore Maya’s poems. I have a particular love of And Still I Rise.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

There was once a girl named Estella,

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

(Yes, I know it's a limerick and not a poem).

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

I think this is my favourite love poem, it's by Wislawa Szymborska and it's called Love at First Sight:

They’re both convinced

that a sudden passion joined them.

Such certainty is beautiful,

but uncertainty is more beautiful still.

Since they’d never met before, they’re sure

that there’d been nothing between them.

But what’s the word from the streets, staircases, hallways—

perhaps they’ve passed by each other a million times?

I want to ask them

if they don’t remember—

a moment face to face

in some revolving door?

perhaps a “sorry” muttered in a crowd?

a curt “wrong number” caught in the receiver?—

but I know the answer.

No, they don’t remember.

They’d be amazed to hear

that Chance has been toying with them

now for years.

Not quite ready yet

to become their Destiny,

it pushed them close, drove them apart,

it barred their path,

stifling a laugh,

and then leaped aside.

There were signs and signals,

even if they couldn’t read them yet.

Perhaps three years ago

or just last Tuesday

a certain leaf fluttered

from one shoulder to another?

Something was dropped and then picked up.

Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished

into childhood’s thicket?

There were doorknobs and doorbells

where one touch had covered another

beforehand.

Suitcases checked and standing side by side.

One night, perhaps, the same dream,

grown hazy by morning.

Every beginning

is only a sequel, after all,

and the book of events

is always open halfway through.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

There was a young lass called Estella,

Whose threads brought her many a fella,

From questions to ditties,

From flowers to titties,

Or do you like Sting or Paul Weller?

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

Some of these are really beautiful. I don't tend to seek out poetry to read but I do write my own and read ones that get sent to me by various writer friends.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

"I’ve been reading a poem a day, and thoroughly enjoying discovering new ones.

Which poems would you recommend me, either old favourites or new discoveries?

Here’s one from me to you.

Marrysong - by Dennis Scott

He never learned her, quite. Year after year

That territory, without seasons, shifted

under his eye. An hour he could be lost

in the walled anger of her quarried hurt

on turning, see cool water laughing where

the day before there were stones in her voice.

He charted. She made wilderness again.

Roads disappeared. The map was never true.

Wind brought him rain sometimes, tasting of sea -

and suddenly she would change the shape of shores

faultlessly calm. All, all was each day new;

the shadows of her love shortened or grew

like trees seen from an unexpected hill,

new country at each jaunty helpless journey.

So he accepted that geography, constantly strange.

Wondered. Stayed home increasingly to find

his way among the landscapes of her mind.

"
I love that

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By *abonWoman
over a year ago

L’boro/Ashby & Cheltenham

"I think this is my favourite love poem, it's by Wislawa Szymborska and it's called Love at First Sight:

They’re both convinced

that a sudden passion joined them.

Such certainty is beautiful,

but uncertainty is more beautiful still.

Since they’d never met before, they’re sure

that there’d been nothing between them.

But what’s the word from the streets, staircases, hallways—

perhaps they’ve passed by each other a million times?

I want to ask them

if they don’t remember—

a moment face to face

in some revolving door?

perhaps a “sorry” muttered in a crowd?

a curt “wrong number” caught in the receiver?—

but I know the answer.

No, they don’t remember.

They’d be amazed to hear

that Chance has been toying with them

now for years.

Not quite ready yet

to become their Destiny,

it pushed them close, drove them apart,

it barred their path,

stifling a laugh,

and then leaped aside.

There were signs and signals,

even if they couldn’t read them yet.

Perhaps three years ago

or just last Tuesday

a certain leaf fluttered

from one shoulder to another?

Something was dropped and then picked up.

Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished

into childhood’s thicket?

There were doorknobs and doorbells

where one touch had covered another

beforehand.

Suitcases checked and standing side by side.

One night, perhaps, the same dream,

grown hazy by morning.

Every beginning

is only a sequel, after all,

and the book of events

is always open halfway through.

That is beautiful!!

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By *olly_chromaticTV/TS
over a year ago

Stockport

Do not go gentle - Dylan Thomas

This is one of my favourites, and seems very suitable at this time when it seems that some people are ready to just dump the elderly in a ditch:

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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By *stella OP Woman
over a year ago

London

Nothing is permanent. All things must end.

Iron will oxidise and fabric rend.

The material world is never stable.

Now becomes history, fact melds with fable.

Truth is merely the viewer’s perspective,

Not fixed and certain, ever subjective.

Everything’s relative, nothing made fast,

All moral certitude lives in the past.

Disinformation, deception and lies,

Never believe what you see with your eyes.

Ours is a time of trumpery and show,

Honesty is lost in the undertow.

To those who subscribe to a divine plan:

Always allow for the follies of man.

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By *icecouple561Couple
Forum Mod
over a year ago

East Sussex

Scaffolding by Seamus Heaney is one I like. So simple, deceptively so. Look at him reading it on YouTube

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By *icecouple561Couple
Forum Mod
over a year ago

East Sussex

"This Be The Verse

BY PHILIP LARKIN

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn

By fools in old-style hats and coats,

Who half the time were soppy-stern

And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

And don’t have any kids yourself."

Another favourite of mine.

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By *icecouple561Couple
Forum Mod
over a year ago

East Sussex

Jenny Kiss'd Me by Leigh Hunt. Love that one.

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By *stella OP Woman
over a year ago

London

"Scaffolding by Seamus Heaney is one I like. So simple, deceptively so. Look at him reading it on YouTube "

That is a beauty, yes!

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

"I’ve been reading a poem a day, and thoroughly enjoying discovering new ones.

Which poems would you recommend me, either old favourites or new discoveries?

Here’s one from me to you.

Marrysong - by Dennis Scott

He never learned her, quite. Year after year

That territory, without seasons, shifted

under his eye. An hour he could be lost

in the walled anger of her quarried hurt

on turning, see cool water laughing where

the day before there were stones in her voice.

He charted. She made wilderness again.

Roads disappeared. The map was never true.

Wind brought him rain sometimes, tasting of sea -

and suddenly she would change the shape of shores

faultlessly calm. All, all was each day new;

the shadows of her love shortened or grew

like trees seen from an unexpected hill,

new country at each jaunty helpless journey.

So he accepted that geography, constantly strange.

Wondered. Stayed home increasingly to find

his way among the landscapes of her mind.

that's beautiful

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

APART FROM THE REVOLUTION

Each drop of blood a rose shall be

all sorrow shall be dust

blown by breezes to the sea

whose fingers thrust

into the corners of restless night

where creatures of the deep

avoid the flashing harbour lights

in search of endless sleep

there were executions

somebody had to pay

apart from the revolution

it’s another working day

a million angels sing

peasants eating cake

wedding bells are ringing

the room begins to shake

the children free from measles all

have healthy teeth and gums

they live in the cathedrals

and worship in the slums

poverty and pollution

have all swept away

apart from the revolution

it’s another working day

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By *icecouple561Couple
Forum Mod
over a year ago

East Sussex

Also I'm rereading Canterbury Tales at the moment. That's worth a mention i think

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

Water by Nikita Gill

When they ask why you love

the rain, the ocean, the river,

tell them

it is because

unlike the people

who should have

loved you better,

the water was never afraid

to touch you;

even when you were

at your most damaged

and broken.

I do like the water

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

2 METRES, NO MEETERS

Protect the NHS, save lives, stay at home,

being on your own isn't the only way for us to feel alone,

with our only connection to life through a mobile phone,

we've all become a personal mobile no-go zone,

we peak out our window and clap on the street,

there's shopping and exercise but we're scared of the people we meet,

masks used to mean muggers or robbers, with knives,

these days they're the things keeping most of us alive,

now we're the villains if we stop and talk or go for a drive,

society wilts like abandoned nursery flowers, but Corona thrives,

as strong as the flow of the flood of tears from our eyes,

we weep and mourn as another one dies.

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By *icecouple561Couple
Forum Mod
over a year ago

East Sussex

Prinked our he was, as if he were a mead,

All full of fresh cut flowers white and red.

Singing he was, or fluting, all the day;

He was as fresh as is the month of May.

That's from The Squire in Canterbury Tales. I think you can see the man he's talking about when you read it

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By *rwhowhatwherewhyMan
over a year ago

Aylesbury

I've never really liked poetry, I just dont get it unfortunately.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

The Suitcase by John Hegley

They fill me up with just about as much as I can take.

And then they wonder why I break

And then they stick labels on me

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

"I've never really liked poetry, I just dont get it unfortunately."

It's a thing with words and some of them rhyme,

it's usually at the end but not all of the time,

you can have limericks and such that like to take the piss,

or maybe try a haiku that goes a little something like this.....

To-con-vey one’s mood

In sev-en-teen syll-able-s

Is ve-ry dif-fic

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By *icecouple561Couple
Forum Mod
over a year ago

East Sussex

" The Suitcase by John Hegley

They fill me up with just about as much as I can take.

And then they wonder why I break

And then they stick labels on me"

I like that. I like simplicity in a poem

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By *icecouple561Couple
Forum Mod
over a year ago

East Sussex

"I've never really liked poetry, I just dont get it unfortunately."

I really dislike performance poetry. Where they read it in a sort of sing song voice.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

"I've never really liked poetry, I just dont get it unfortunately.

I really dislike performance poetry. Where they read it in a sort of sing song voice. "

It's a bit like some musicals where they sing their lines. I can't stand that.

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By *icecouple561Couple
Forum Mod
over a year ago

East Sussex

"I've never really liked poetry, I just dont get it unfortunately.

I really dislike performance poetry. Where they read it in a sort of sing song voice.

It's a bit like some musicals where they sing their lines. I can't stand that."

Nor I . "let's do the show right here" No, really it's fine...

Elaine Paige's radio show is on at the moment. I really don't like it but I can't be bothered to get up and change the station.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

"I've never really liked poetry, I just dont get it unfortunately.

I really dislike performance poetry. Where they read it in a sort of sing song voice.

It's a bit like some musicals where they sing their lines. I can't stand that.

Nor I . "let's do the show right here" No, really it's fine...

Elaine Paige's radio show is on at the moment. I really don't like it but I can't be bothered to get up and change the station. "

That's where Alexa would come in handy, no need to move then.

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By *lasgow_IrishMan
over a year ago

Glasgow

You Don't Get To Be Racist And Irish by Imelda May.

Search Twitter for her reading of it.

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By *icecouple561Couple
Forum Mod
over a year ago

East Sussex

"I've never really liked poetry, I just dont get it unfortunately.

I really dislike performance poetry. Where they read it in a sort of sing song voice.

It's a bit like some musicals where they sing their lines. I can't stand that.

Nor I . "let's do the show right here" No, really it's fine...

Elaine Paige's radio show is on at the moment. I really don't like it but I can't be bothered to get up and change the station.

That's where Alexa would come in handy, no need to move then."

Does it respond to "shut the f**k up Dick Van Dyke singing about chimneys"?

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

Just heard this on the radio and it brole me a little bit...

Black Dog by Arlo Parks

I'd lick the grief right off your lips

You do your eyes like Robert Smith

Sometimes it seems like you won't survive this

And honestly it's terrifying

Let's go to the corner store and buy some fruit

I would do anything to get you out your room

Just take your medicine and eat some food

I would do anything to get you out your room

It's so cruel

What your mind can do for no reason

I take a jump off the fire escape

To make the black dog go away

At least I know that you are trying

But that's what makes it terrifying

Let's go to the corner store and buy some fruit

I would do anything to get you out your room

Just take your medicine and eat some food

I would do anything to get you out your room

It's so cruel

What your mind can do for no reason

It's so cruel

What your mind can do for no reason

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

"I've never really liked poetry, I just dont get it unfortunately.

I really dislike performance poetry. Where they read it in a sort of sing song voice.

It's a bit like some musicals where they sing their lines. I can't stand that.

Nor I . "let's do the show right here" No, really it's fine...

Elaine Paige's radio show is on at the moment. I really don't like it but I can't be bothered to get up and change the station.

That's where Alexa would come in handy, no need to move then.

Does it respond to "shut the f**k up Dick Van Dyke singing about chimneys"?

I never thought I'd say this but after watching the new Mary Poppins film recently, I totally forgive him. The new one is so bad I'd take his accent over any performance from the new movie.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

The older I get it seems,

Whishes takes the place of dreams,

I wish I could care again,

reach out and share again.

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By *stella OP Woman
over a year ago

London

"Just heard this on the radio and it brole me a little bit...

Black Dog by Arlo Parks

I'd lick the grief right off your lips

You do your eyes like Robert Smith

Sometimes it seems like you won't survive this

And honestly it's terrifying

Let's go to the corner store and buy some fruit

I would do anything to get you out your room

Just take your medicine and eat some food

I would do anything to get you out your room

It's so cruel

What your mind can do for no reason

I take a jump off the fire escape

To make the black dog go away

At least I know that you are trying

But that's what makes it terrifying

Let's go to the corner store and buy some fruit

I would do anything to get you out your room

Just take your medicine and eat some food

I would do anything to get you out your room

It's so cruel

What your mind can do for no reason

It's so cruel

What your mind can do for no reason

I see you.

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By *icecouple561Couple
Forum Mod
over a year ago

East Sussex

"I've never really liked poetry, I just dont get it unfortunately.

I really dislike performance poetry. Where they read it in a sort of sing song voice.

It's a bit like some musicals where they sing their lines. I can't stand that.

Nor I . "let's do the show right here" No, really it's fine...

Elaine Paige's radio show is on at the moment. I really don't like it but I can't be bothered to get up and change the station.

That's where Alexa would come in handy, no need to move then.

Does it respond to "shut the f**k up Dick Van Dyke singing about chimneys"?

I never thought I'd say this but after watching the new Mary Poppins film recently, I totally forgive him. The new one is so bad I'd take his accent over any performance from the new movie. "

Oh! I haven't had the (dubious) pleasure.