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Well...It's NATIONAL POETRY DAY here in the UK today...so if that fills you with lyrical thoughts why not share them....or even favourite song lyrics..
This is my favourite poem ever...well part of it at any rate...even though I had to recite it when I was 16 at school and have never forgotten it. It's lovely..and looking at our apple tree..very apt today...
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells.
And here are some wise words;
WHEN I WAS ONE AND TWENTY by
A.E Housman
'JABBERWOCKY'
Rev. Charles Dodgson (Lewis Carroll)
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
the frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the maxome foe he sought-
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.
As in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came.
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack.
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"Has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Calloh! Callay!
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
And these are ... well, make of them what you will!
First, whimsical ...
YOUNG AGAIN
If I had my chance, so brief
to glance again the dream of youth’s sweet hope
I’d grasp a magic shooting star
whirl breathlessly, carelessly, ‘til afar ...
Hitch a ride to Neverland
Hold passion preciously in my hand.
Then borne upon a unicorn
sprinkling fairy dust from dusk ‘til dawn
I’d catch a raindrop glimmering bright
and freefall gaily through my velvet night.
Introspective ...
MY BOX
There’s a box in my head
where I go
to hide
when life stabs deep
and bleeds inside.
Social comment ...
LONDON'S PAIN
Stabbed in her back
Heart attacked
Viral infection clear
Bandaging wounds with national pride
As her bowels haemorrhage fear.
Relationships ...
SUSPENDED IN SILENCE
“It’s not too late.”
Words unspoken
t’wixt you and me
suspended in silence
weigh
Heavily.
PAST TENSE
Girl of his dreams I used to be.
Bittersweet memory.
Loved me once the words he says.
Used to know me.
All past tense.
And back to whimsical ...
DOES THE BREEZE BLOW A KISS?
Will the world stop turning
If the sun stops yearning
To shine
Each and every day?
And does the breeze blow a kiss
When the sky’s all a-mist
To cheer up
Its miserable ways?
Do the stars ever croon
When they gaze at the moon
As they float
On their Milky Way?
And does thunder ever wonder
If it's really made a blunder
When it rumbles
Through a Summer's day?
Can the wind really tickle
The leaves of a thistle,
Pick berries from the mistletoe?
And when all is said and done
Can a moonbeam truly hum?
These are the things
I'd like to know.
Love them Paula....on a fantastic Autumn day too... :clap:
Here's another favourte of mine; I remember it from when I was a child:
The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;
She shines on thieves on the garden wall,
On streets and fields and harbour quays,
And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.
The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,
The howling dog by the door of the house,
The bat that lies in bed at noon,
All love to be out by the light of the moon.
But all of the things that belong to the day
Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;
And flowers and children close their eyes
Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.
I didn't know it was National Poetry Day !! Although I was down with "International Talk Like A Pirate Day " a few weeks ago (oh the fun ! :crackup: )
I used to recite "The Jabberwocky" as a party piece as a little girl ... that leads me on to a few of my all time favourites . They are true nonsense poems
by Spike Milligan (for those that may not know he was a wacky comedian who paved the way for Monty Python etc , in the UK) As children , my
sister and I loved his "Silly Verse" , and would cry with laughter at them , reading them out loud over and over . I'm sure it contributed to my
enduring sense of the ridiculous - and gave me a fascination with the sound of poetry whether serious , or silly !
Rain
There are holes in the sky
Where the rain gets in ,
But they're ever so small
That's why rain is thin .
My Sister Laura
My sister Laura's bigger than me
And lifts me up quite easily .
I can't lift her , I've tried and tried ;
She must have something heavy
inside .
What the Wiggle-Woggle said
The Wiggle-Woggle said ,
"I wish that I were dead :
I've a pain in my tummy and
It's travelling up the bed .
I wish that I were something
That never got a pain ;
A little bit of fluffy stuff
That vanished down the drain .
I could be a tiger's whisker ,
A tuba made of bread ,
The purple eye of a custard pie
With a trouser made of lead .
There must be other somethings -
A tiny leather bead ?
Or a bit of crumpled paper
Where the water-melons feed ?
A yellow thing with lumps on !
A yellow thing without !!
Some hairy stuff
On a powder puff
That snuffs the candles out .
Wish I were a lamp-post
(Lamp-posts don't get pains ) ,
A leaky rusty gutter
Flooding other people's drains !
All those are what I'd like to be ,"
The Wiggle-Woggle said .
But he stayed a Wiggle-Woggle
And , what's more , he stayed in bed !
I think we've all felt like the Wiggle-Woggle before 
Thanks for letting me share !
Mini Hugs , Ruth 
Oh RUTH..I love Spike Milligan...!!
I just found this website in the paper ! It's so cool I shall re-visit often . It is an archive of poets reading (occasionally singing ) their
own works . I just loved the Dylan Thomas ones , and Alan Ahlberg , and Spike Milligan !!!
Have a fun day everyone !
Ruth
Spike Milligan and AA Milne ... what gifts! My favourite AA Milne poem has to be 'Tiddly Pom' ...
(Tiddly Pom)
The more it goes
(Tiddly Pom)
The more it goes
(Tiddly Pom)
On snowing.
And nobody knows
(Tiddly Pom)
How cold my toes
(Tiddly Pom)
How cold my toes
(Tiddly Pom)
Are growing.
The more it snows
(Tiddly Pom)
The more it goes
(Tiddly Pom)
The more it goes
(Tiddly Pom)
On snowing.
And nobody knows
(Tiddly Pom)
How gold my toes
(Tiddly Pom)
How cold my toes
(Tiddly Pom)
Are growing.
Making a huge leap now to another old favourite ...
So we'll go no more a roving
by George Gordon, Lord Byron
So, we'll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.
Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a roving
By the light of the moon.
Here's an especially nice on by Roger McGough, who as some of you people my age here in the UK might remember was in the group The Scaffold...Not that I was fan of them..LOL!!!
'The trouble with snowmen,'
Said my father one year
'They are no sooner made
than they just disappear.
I'll build you a snowman
And I'll build it to last
Add sand and cement
And then have it cast.
And so every winter,'
He went on to explain
'You shall have a snowman
Be it sunshine or rain.'
And that snowman still stands
Though my father is gone
Out there in the garden
Like an unmarked gravestone.
Staring up at the house
Gross and misshapen
As if waiting for something
Bad to happen.
For as the years pass
And I grow older
When summers seem short
And winters colder.
The snowmen I envy
As I watch children play
Are the ones that are made
And then fade away.
Roger McGough
Past Time BearsI'm going to join in, too, because October is National Poetry Month in the US and Oct. 15th the actual Poetry Day.
This is my very favorite piece from my very favorite contemporary poet.
HEAVENLY BODIES
(for Sue Ann)
If I revive from my death
to find myself reincarnated
as an asteroid,
I shall streak through the skies,
leaving trails of my being,
hanging the heavens,
spelling your name.
And if after I die I return
as the rings of Saturn,
I will undrape that planet
and search the galaxy
looking for the heavenly body
that represents
your resurrection.
And if at eternity's end
our universe collapses
into some colossal black hole,
I will drape your presence,
as we are pulled
lovingly into the vacuum,
together to oblivion.
J. Paul Holcomb
Wow Sue-Ann...that's fantastic...we'll have to do it all again on the 15th then...You can never have too much poetry!
Newcastle, OntarioThanks for all the treats, girls! I looove poetry and The Cloths of Heaven by William Butler Yeats almost makes me cry, when I think about it:
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.
hugs,
Brenda
Newcastle, OntarioThis is another favourite by the incredibly gifted Mattie Stepanek, who died at 13 from Muscular dystrophy. He wrote this at age 9. How incredibly sad his life was so short.
Eternal Echoes
Our life is an echo
Of our spirit today.
Of our essence
As it is.
Caught between
Our yesterday
And our tomorrow.
It is the resounding
Reality of who we are,
As a result of
Where we have been,
And where we will be
For eternity.
By Mattie Stepanek 2000
Ooh Jenny SNAP! Roger McGough is one of my favourites too, he's such a clever wordsmith and so accessible too! I have several of his books and would find it hard to choose a particular poem as overall favourite without selecting something perhaps too raw for now, but on a lighter note, I do like these ...
'Children's Writer'
John in the garden
Playing goodies and baddies
Janet in the bedroom
Playing mummies and daddies
Mummy in the kitchen
Washing and wiping
Daddy in the study
stereotyping
'Joinedupwriting'
From the first
tentative scratch on the wall
To the final
unfinished, hurried scrawl;
One poem.
Brenda, your choice is beautiful, what a pleasure to read it again ... those last two lines really tug at the emotions don't they?! Sue Ann, WOW! I hope your other half (I'm assuming?!) wrote that wonderful poem especially for you! ;)Thank you so much for sharing his talent with us!
Newcastle, OntarioLast one, girls!
Dennis Lee, a Canadian poet, was my sons favourite when he was in primary and I can't wait for our grandson to be old enough to enjoy him!
Alligator Pie by Dennis Lee
Alligator pie, alligator pie,
If I don't get some I think I'm gonna die.
Give away the green grass, give away the sky,
But don't give away my alligator pie.
Alligator stew, alligator stew,
If I don't get some I don't know what I'll do.
Give away my furry hat, give away my shoe,
But don't give away my alligator stew.
Alligator soup, alligator soup,
If I don't get some I think I'm gonna droop.
Give away my hockey stick, give away my hoop,
But don't give away my alligator soup.
Oh a these poems are fantastic....
No poetry day should go by without one from Pam Ayres...I love this one:
Let's all salute the Wonderbra,
The Wonderbra, the Wonderbra,
Let's all salute the Wonderbra,
For fourteen ninety-nine.
It gave me such a figure,
I can't believe it's mine,
I showed it to my husband
And it made his eyeballs shine,
And when I served the breakfast,
The kids cried out, 'Hooray!
Here comes our darling mother,
with her bosom on a tray!'
I didn't really need one,
my present bra, it's true,
Had only been in constant use
Since nineteen eighty-two,
But the silhouette I dreamed about,
Is mine, is mine at last,
And builders on the scaffolding,
Drop off as I walk past
Let's all salute the Wonderbra,
The Wonderbra, the Wonderbra,
Let's all salute the Wonderbra
For fourteen ninety-nine!
dusty attic bearsLovely Poems everyone. 
Here are a few of my fav's.
When we two are parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken hearted,
To sever the years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this!
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow;
It felt like a warning
Of what i feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame
I hear they name spoken
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me--
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not i knew thee
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall i rue thee
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met:
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years
How should i greet thee?
In silence and tears.
Lord Byron
dusty attic bears:crackup: :crackup: :crackup: Jenny we must have been typing at the same time, Love that wonderbra one :crackup: :crackup:
Ok I know we have already had lots of Spike Milligan, But here is one I just had to share
Said a tiny ant
To the elephant,
"mind how you tread in this clearing"
But alas !! Cruel fate!!
She was crushed by the weight
Of an elephant , hard of hearing.
Newcastle, OntarioThis is such a great thread - more please! I'm not familiar with Spike Milligan, but he sounds just perfect for our grandson - now I'm on hunt LOL! He sounds in the same vein as Dennis Lee - here's another of his:
Goofus
Sometimes my mind is crazy
Sometimes my mind is dumb
Sometimes it sings like angel wings
And beeps like kingdom come.
My mother calls me Mary
My father calls me Fred
My brother calls me Stumblebum
And kicks me out of bed.
Go tell it on a T-shirt
Go tell a TV screen:
My summy's turning tummersaults
And I am turning green.
Don't come to me in April
Don't come to me in Guelph
Don't come to me in anything
Except your crummy self.
I haven't got a dollar
I haven't got a dime
I haven't got a thing to do
But write these goofy rhymes.
Sometimes my mind is crazy
Sometimes my mind is dumb
Sometimes it sings like angel wings
And beeps like kingdom come.
hugs,
Brenda
Walnut Tree Corner Bears By GailHa Ha It's a good job I didn't just post my favourites and scrolled down and read them all first or you would have got two listings for the Spike Milligan " Rain" and "Wiggle Woggle" They are my favourite, of the ones we used to read,too Ruth but I had forgotten the one about Sister Laura. I also like:
Today I saw a little worm
wriggling on his belly
perhaps he'd like to come inside
and see whats on the telly.
and
There was a rash young lady pig,
(they say she was a smasher)
Who suddenly ran
Under a Van
and now she's a gammon rasher!
Spike Milligan was just soooooo silly, perhaps thats why Ruth and I have such weird and silly senses of humour!
Tiny Hugs
Gail
Past Time BearsSue Ann, WOW! I hope your other half (I'm assuming?!) wrote that wonderful poem especially for you! ;)Thank you so much for sharing his talent with us!
Yes, he did and you're very welcome.
OOh here's a great teddy bear one....
Posts: 1,836These are all wonderful!! (Sueann....WOW, super WOW!!)
Robert Frost is one of my all time favorites, this one especially. It brings all of my favorite senses to life...that smell and feeling of snow falling in total night time quiet...... just heavenly
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
THEN on the flip side I grew up with Shel Silverstein. Anything from Where The Sidewalk Ends is golden IMO! http://www.shelsilverstein.com/play.asp
Here's a cute one from him.....
Bear In There
by Shel Silverstein
There's a Polar Bear
In our Frigidaire--
He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.
With his seat in the meat
And his face in the fish
And his big hairy paws
In the buttery dish,
He's nibbling the noodles,
He's munching the rice,
He's slurping the soda,
He's licking the ice.
And he lets out a roar
If you open the door.
And it gives me a scare
To know he's in there--
That Polary Bear
In our Fridgitydaire.
:hug:
~Chrissi
Newcastle, OntarioSue Ann - Wow, I missed that the author was your husband - what a special gift!
Chrissie - I love Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening by Robert Frost! It's a favourite of mine although, after reading all of the poetry posted, I think all poetry is my favourite :crackup: !
hugs,
Brenda
Yes , I heartily agree Brenda ; all poetry is my favourite too !! ( but I did so love your earlier choices Brenda they are heart-breaking/warming 
)
Mini Hugs , Ruth
Newcastle, OntarioOkay Ruth, you are responsible for me spending the past hour on the poetry website you posted :crackup: It's a fabulous site though -thanks! So much for getting things done this afternoon!
hugs,
Brenda
