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ok..., serious non offensive topic

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

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

see, I can do it when I try.

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

Twaddle

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

"I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" (known as "The Daffodils") is an 1804 poem by William Wordsworth. It was inspired by an April 15, 1802 event in which Wordsworth and his sister, Dorothy, came across a "long belt" of daffodils. Dorothy later wrote in reference to this walk:

I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about and about them, some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness and the rest tossed and reeled and danced and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the lake, they looked so gay ever dancing ever changing. (Dorothy Wordsworth, The Grasmere Journal)

It was first published in 1807, and a revised version was released in 1815. The poem is written in iambic tetrameter.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

and twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretched in never-ending line

along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

in such a jocund company:

I gazed - and gazed - but little thought

what wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Wordsworth struggled with the last verse and the contribution made by his sister Dorothy provided the first four lines of the last stanza. Wordsworth acknowledges these four lines as the best of the entire work.

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


"Twaddle "

I dont know any of his works???

This is poets corner you know...

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

Shhhhhh shes giving me a breather

She toys with me she does

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


""I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" (known as "The Daffodils") is an 1804 poem by William Wordsworth. It was inspired by an April 15, 1802 event in which Wordsworth and his sister, Dorothy, came across a "long belt" of daffodils. Dorothy later wrote in reference to this walk:

I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about and about them, some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness and the rest tossed and reeled and danced and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the lake, they looked so gay ever dancing ever changing. (Dorothy Wordsworth, The Grasmere Journal)

It was first published in 1807, and a revised version was released in 1815. The poem is written in iambic tetrameter.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

and twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretched in never-ending line

along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

in such a jocund company:

I gazed - and gazed - but little thought

what wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Wordsworth struggled with the last verse and the contribution made by his sister Dorothy provided the first four lines of the last stanza. Wordsworth acknowledges these four lines as the best of the entire work."

oh thats right, show me up, just because I only know the first verse...I think I may cry now...then you will feel bad and its all your own doing.

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


"Shhhhhh shes giving me a breather

She toys with me she does "

You said you wouldnt tell anyone..lol

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

one of my favourates actually followed closely by

she was only the sergeants daughter

but she knew wot Regi meant

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

Let me offer you another poem by Lord Byron that offer some consolation.

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that 's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

~

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

~

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

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By *heekychezzaWoman
over a year ago

warrington

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying:

And this same flower that smiles to-day'

To-morrow will be dying.

From Robert Herrick's To the Virgins, to Make Much Of Time..

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

ok you can stay...lol

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

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -

Only this, and nothing more.'

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By *prite128Woman
over a year ago

maidstone

Who calls her two-faced? Faces she has three;

The first inscrutable, for the outer world;

The second shrouded in self-contemplation;

The third, her face of love,

Once for an endless moment turned on me

Robert Graves

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


"Who calls her two-faced? Faces she has three;

The first inscrutable, for the outer world;

The second shrouded in self-contemplation;

The third, her face of love,

Once for an endless moment turned on me

Robert Graves"

thought you were on about my three chins then...phew...think that secrets safe for now.

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

ok serious pussy

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with a passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

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

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air.

Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,

I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or even eagle flew -

And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod

The high untresspassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

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By *prite128Woman
over a year ago

maidstone


"Who calls her two-faced? Faces she has three;

The first inscrutable, for the outer world;

The second shrouded in self-contemplation;

The third, her face of love,

Once for an endless moment turned on me

Robert Graves

thought you were on about my three chins then...phew...think that secrets safe for now."

oi, stop dissing my favourite poem

and you have at least 4 chins

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

There was a young woman from Gorton

Who had one long tit and one short un

And to make up for that

A big fat hairy twat

And a fart like a 500 Norton

Wordsworth (Brian)

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


"Who calls her two-faced? Faces she has three;

The first inscrutable, for the outer world;

The second shrouded in self-contemplation;

The third, her face of love,

Once for an endless moment turned on me

Robert Graves

thought you were on about my three chins then...phew...think that secrets safe for now.

oi, stop dissing my favourite poem

and you have at least 4 chins "

dammit.

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

[Removed by poster at 12/08/09 22:24:31]

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By *heekychezzaWoman
over a year ago

warrington

my favourite poem is "He wishes for the Cloths of Heaven" W.B.Yeats

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light.

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

but for honesty try a little 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 exta, just for you

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

An acrostic poem suitable for swingers:

Love most potent in ardent embrace

Usurped with a fiery passion

Spent-like a match-then cast aside

Tossed upon the coals of love's endeavour.

Wishy 2001

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

You lot on this thread are making me feel all gooey and lovey

now pack it in I can't take it

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

A mermaid found a swimming lad,

Picked him for her own,

Pressed her body to his body,

Laughed; and plunging down

Forgot in cruel happiness

That even lovers drown

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By *resh freddieMan
over a year ago

Penistone

Marmite

Thats not offensive is it?

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

Iv got bloody goosebumps now

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

I wrote this shortly after 9/11/2001

~

An Epitaph Named Why?

---------------------

Who can count the number that have died?

Who can name the girl, who's broken doll lies,

Among all the debris, among all the dust.

~

Who can catch the woman that was falling,

From the umpteenth floor, silently calling,

To her watching husband - "Don't forget me!"

~

Who can imagine the horror of seeing,

A doom approaching, no point in fleeing,

Where will I run to, where will I hide?

~

Who ever thought of this unthinkable nightmare?

In rescue we came, but in death we left there;

We died for our jobs and for our country.

~

Who can I turn to in my desolate grief?

Where there are no bodies to lay my wreath?

Bewilderment and confusion - my left and right.

~

What can my leaders say when words have no depth?

The only democracy is the democracy of death.

Let peace and freedom come and claim me.

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


"Iv got bloody goosebumps now "

does marmite have that effect on you???

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


"Iv got bloody goosebumps now

does marmite have that effect on you???"

Freddie got in there too quick

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


"A mermaid found a swimming lad,

Picked him for her own,

Pressed her body to his body,

Laughed; and plunging down

Forgot in cruel happiness

That even lovers drown"

wot in the mersey???

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

Fuckin' hate poetry I do.

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


"Fuckin' hate poetry I do. "

That don't even rhyme.

If you don't like it why post on this thread of all threads. That's a bit like looking for someone to fuck who you know doesn't turn you on. Pointless and futile.

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


"Fuckin' hate poetry I do.

That don't even rhyme.

If you don't like it why post on this thread of all threads. That's a bit like looking for someone to fuck who you know doesn't turn you on. Pointless and futile."

You're right.

'Fuckin hate poetry I do

But I accept that it's good for you.'

X there it rhymes X

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