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Poetry/prose sharing

Deleted user

This is a thread that has come out of a discussion between myself and Steven.

We have had 2 other shared threads that have come about in this way: Paranormal and Creative.

Please share your poetry, either something you have written, or one that you like/has meaning to you.

Prose is welcome too.

Here's my contribution from Yeats for starters:

He wishes for the Cloths of Heaven: Yeats

Had I the heavens’ 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.

  • There's a new forum on NAS

    That's become a bit of a pain in the ass

    We all do our best

    But when out to the test

    Sometimes it's better to pass.

  • The first couple of verses of The Walrus and the carpenter, by Lewis Carroll:

    The sun was shining on the sea,
          Shining with all his might:
    He did his very best to make
          The billows smooth and bright —
    And this was odd, because it was
          The middle of the night.
    The moon was shining sulkily,
          Because she thought the sun
    Had got no business to be there
          After the day was done —
    "It's very rude of him," she said,
          "To come and spoil the fun."

  • As a bit of light relief, here is a poem.

    I may have already placed that here, but as I am deleted users all over the place, I am doing so again.

    The roads we choose to take in life have all led us to where we are now.

    What roads shall we take next?

    The Road Not Taken

    By Robert Frost
    Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
    And sorry I could not travel both
    And be one traveler, long I stood
    And looked down one as far as I could
    To where it bent in the undergrowth;
    Then took the other, as just as fair,
    And having perhaps the better claim,
    Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
    Though as for that the passing there
    Had worn them really about the same,
    And both that morning equally lay
    In leaves no step had trodden black.
    Oh, I kept the first for another day!
    Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
    I doubted if I should ever come back.
    I shall be telling this with a sigh
    Somewhere ages and ages hence:
    Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
    I took the one less traveled by,
    And that has made all the difference.
  • in reply to Deleted user

    I love it so much, I made a YouTube recording of me reading it and sent it to the Charles Causley Trust. 

  • in reply to Autistic Not Alien
    Autistic Not Alien said:
    This is my favourite poem.

    I'm glad to hear that.

    I am the 'deleted user'.

  • Delayed Diagnosis

    I’ve always felt different

    but I only found out why

    a few months ago

    at the age of 40.

    Years and years of feeling

    like I’m trapped inside a snow globe

    and I’m looking out

    or like I’m the only one outside it

    looking in.

    Apparently, when I was a child

    I used to line up all my toys in a row.

    I remember having meltdowns, though

    I don’t remember what caused them.

    When I was 11

    I wrote a 26-page story

    in which all the adjectives began with A.

    My teacher gave me a B.

    I’m joking.

    I don’t think she even read it.

    I loved words.

    I still do.

    My favourite word is doviđenja

    which is Croatian for goodbye.

    At the age of 40

    I found out why I’m not good at small talk

    and why, if you ask me how I am,

    I’m likely to specify the particular ways in which I’m extremely ambivalent about a range of things

    instead of just saying

    ‘I’m fine. You?’

    I like honesty,

    consistency,

    patterns

    and lists.

    I don’t like loud noises,

    unannounced arrivals,

    the fact that I have a monotonous voice

    and the fact it has taken me 40 years

    to find the most applicable, appropriate, apt

    adjective beginning with A

    which describes me

    and makes sense of who I am

    But better late than never.

    I am

    autistic.

  • Wasted words and shattered hopes
    a desperate clinging to life's ropes
    You thought this time the tide had turned
    no more mistakes all lessons learned

    It's been this way so many times before
    the same old tempo,the same old worn out score
    The sunshine blinds you to the rain
    the pleasure blinds you to the pain

  • I remember nineteen seventy five
    chasing emptiness just to stay alive
    hopes shattered and broken,
    words of salvation never spoken,
    I remember blame and then more blame
    no panacea to soothe all the pain
    I remember parental warfare
    I remember no one was there
    I remember the post mortems they'd hold
    so much to say but emotionally cold
    I remember confidence shattered day after day
    Nineteen seventy five when blue turned to grey

  • The American dream-fat ladies on therapists couches
    health food obsession meets psychologist's candy
    The American dream- guns for sale executions to
    follow,
    Your right to shoot and your punishment to die,
    The American dream- personal neurosis,
    collective self assurance,
    anti abortionist gas chamber caressing.

    The American dream- mom's apple pie
    classrooms of children waiting to die
    The American dream- wholesome and clean
    liberal thoughts and reactionary deeds
    The American dream-bizarre and mundane
    continuous movie for the normally insane

  • The Ideal 

    This is where I came from.
    I passed this way.
    This should not be shameful
    Or hard to say.

    A self is a self.
    It is not a screen.
    A person should respect
    What he has been.

    This is my past
    Which I shall not discard.
    This is the ideal.
    This is hard.
    James Fenton
  • in reply to Zilliam

    Thank you for reviving this thread (I am the OP) and for sharing your poem.

    I wrote most of my poetry in my teens.

  • A half drank coffee mug.
    A baby fast asleep, she dreams deep.
    Daddy's fixing the phone he goes by the name of Dug.
    Mummy sings the baby to sleep.
    Construction outside and the sound of peace is broke.
    Suddenly the baby woke.
    Baby cries
    Mummy is very cross with the construction guys...

    I did that at school. Got me a B if I recall correctly. 

  • Edgar Allan Poe is widely believed to have been autistic. I certainly identity with this…

  • in reply to Deleted user

    Yes, The Lord of the Rings is full of bits of verse. It made me cringe when I first read the book at around 12 years old but I realise now he was really good at it. 

    This is one of the best known examples:

  • April Fools Day

    I shine my flashlight

    Back at the moon

  • in reply to A

    Thank you for that very poignant poem.

    I wasn't aware that Tolkien was also a poet.

    It's nice to see old threads resurface.

  • I Sit Beside The Fire and Think by JRR Tolkien

     

    I sit beside the fire and think

    Of all that I have seen

    Of meadow flowers and butterflies

    In summers that have been

     

    Of yellow leaves and gossamer

    In autumns that there were

    With morning mist and silver sun

    And wind upon my hair

     

    I sit beside the fire and think

    Of how the world will be

    When winter comes without a spring

    That I shall ever see

     

    For still there are so many things

    That I have never seen

    In every wood in every spring

    There is a different green

     

    I sit beside the fire and think

    Of people long ago

    And people that will see a world

    That I shall never know

     

    But all the while I sit and think

    Of times there were before

    I listen for returning feet

    And voices at the door