General Chat

Morning my little sunshines, has any one of you bright eyed
bushy tailed little fellows ever read a poem that has sort of
stayed with you--really impressed??
I think for me it would be Thomas Greys Elegy in Stoke Poges
church yard, I always felt his verses summed up our nations
history, told what we are, the british people.

colin F

there is one that has stuck with by Lord Byron or Keats, can't amember.

Ode to my goldfish;


O' goldfish.




that's it, no more to it.

Hi,Colin.Not sure why but this one has stuck : High tide on coast of Lincolnshire 1571 by Jean Ingelow & also few by Byron,mainly his ode to LCL

I can see there are many wise and wonderfull
people on here
colin

Doh!
does that include me?

best I hide.

That doesn't include me as I don't know much poetry

Better hide witj you then !

Poetry as to many, is of verse and rhyme

but it is more of what is written than what is seen.

The Wives of Brixham always brings a tear to my eye. The way it is written you can almost feel you were there on that hellish night.

Caz

Many poems Colin....but this always reminds me of a part of my childhood and is special...xx



Fern Hill

by Dylan Thomas

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace.

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

"Footsteps of Angels"

When the hours of Day are numbered,
And the voices of the Night
Wake the better soul, that slumbered,
To a holy, calm delight;

Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
And, like phantoms grim and tall,
Shadows from the fitful firelight
Dance upon the parlor wall;

Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door;
The beloved, the true-hearted,
Come to visit me once more;

He, the young and strong, who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,
By the roadside fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life!

They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth no more!

And with them the Being Beauteous,
Who unto my youth was given,
More than all things else to love me,
And is now a saint in heaven.

With a slow and noiseless footstep
Comes that messenger divine,
Takes the vacant chair beside me,
Lays her gentle hand in mine.

And she sits and gazes at me
With those deep and tender eyes,
Like the stars, so still and saint-like,
Looking downward from the skies.

Uttered not, yet comprehended,
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer,
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,
Breathing from her lips of air.

Oh, though oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside,
If I but remember only
Such as these have lived and died!

People come and go from our lives, some leaving footprints that we will always cherish. Many of us believe we are surrounded by " "earth angels" who are the angels that have come into your life?

This one..................as the daughter of a sufferer, this struck such a chord with me.

Mum had to go into a home 3 years ago when my lovely Dad died suddenly.


How can you say there is no way that I remember Dad
‘Cause I don’t know him when I look in his eyes, you moan and cry “How sad!”
He’s there in my walk, my attitude, and sideways glancing eye
He’s there when I do, he’s there when I don’t, but especially when I try
I don’t have Alzheimer’s like you say, I don’t have it you see
That’s not exactly how it works, Alzheimer’s has me
Remember back when I was well. I loved to make new friends?
It’s still the same, I am still me, it’s the memory that ends
Come inside, introduce yourself, we’ll start every day anew
I can get love from a stranger, even if that stranger is you
I know it seems it’s all for naught, that I can’t remember when
But if you’ll remember for me, you can tell me the story again
Remember the wonder of faraway, and a new place every day
Walk me through that wonder; tell me it’s ok
If you cry and mourn before I’m gone, I’ll be more confused and frightened
But if you help me carry on, you’ll walk away enlightened
In a way, you see, I’m really blessed, and glad to be alive
‘Cause God took my memories early, so they’ll be there when I arrive
He felt the need, I do believe, to share the life I’ve known
And keep it safe, till once again, the memories are my own

By Larry Freeze, for a friend who has a loved one with Alzheimer’s