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Post by Verbivore on Aug 18, 2008 11:37:24 GMT
I created this thread because I wanted to post more than a stanza - and that might have upset the flow of Alan's Favourite Stanza thread.
NOISE -- by Pooh
Milne, AA. The House at Pooh Corner.
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Post by Verbivore on Aug 18, 2008 11:38:14 GMT
Source unknown.
Postscript: Since posting the above, I have received another version from Sue M-V.
It's possible that "my" version was mis-heard or mis-recorded the many years ago that I first encountered it.
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Post by Verbivore on Aug 18, 2008 11:39:34 GMT
TS Eliot.
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Post by Pete on Aug 18, 2008 16:52:39 GMT
I love limericks. One of the first books I ever read was The Complete Nonsense of Edward Lear. In today's politically correct world, you'd probably not get away with calling a poem The Dong with the Luminous Nose!
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Post by Pete on Aug 18, 2008 16:53:14 GMT
I love limericks. One of the first books I ever read was The Complete Nonsense of Edward Lear. In today's politically correct world, you'd probably not get away with calling a poem The Dong with the Luminous Nose! Should the 'with' be capitalised (harking back to an earlier thread)?
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Post by TfS on Aug 18, 2008 19:14:34 GMT
Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let not this blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
--- Max Ehrmann, 1927
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Post by Twoddle on Aug 18, 2008 21:26:25 GMT
I love the feel of this one - the momentary peacefulness; the balmy summer's day, the bygone era ... .
Adlestrop, by Edward Thomas
Yes, I remember Adlestrop – The name because one afternoon Of heat the express-train drew up there Unwontedly. It was late June.
The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat. No one left and no one came On the bare platform. What I saw Was Adlestrop – only the name
And willows, willow-herb, and grass, And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry, No whit less still and lonely fair Than the high cloudlets in the sky.
And for that minute a blackbird sang Close by, and round him, mistier, Farther and farther, all the birds Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.
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Post by Paul Doherty on Aug 18, 2008 23:59:37 GMT
Desiderata, TfS? You surprise me.
I've been to Adlestrop.
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Post by Twoddle on Aug 19, 2008 6:07:39 GMT
Was the railway station still functioning?
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Post by TfS on Aug 19, 2008 8:07:59 GMT
Desiderata, TfS? You surprise me. Why so?
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Post by amanda on Aug 19, 2008 9:36:49 GMT
One's choice of poetry is often scarily self-revelatory. But there's nowt wrong with that.
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Post by Pete on Aug 19, 2008 9:40:32 GMT
My favourite poet is Betjeman. And I love this ode to a lost England: Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough It isn't fit for humans now, There isn't grass to graze a cow Swarm over, Death! Come, bombs, and blow to smithereens Those air-conditioned, bright canteens, Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans Tinned minds, tinned breath. Mess up the mess they call a town -- A house for ninety-seven down And once a week for half-a-crown For twenty years, And get that man with double chin Who'll always cheat and always win, Who washes his repulsive skin In women's tears, And smash his desk of polished oak And smash his hands so used to stroke And stop his boring dirty joke And make him yell. But spare the bald young clerks who add The profits of the stinking cad; It's not their fault that they are mad, They've tasted Hell. It's not their fault they do not know The birdsong from the radio, It's not their fault they often go To Maidenhead And talk of sports and makes of cars In various bogus Tudor bars And daren't look up and see the stars But belch instead. In labour-saving homes, with care Their wives frizz out peroxide hair And dry it in synthetic air And paint their nails. Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough To get it ready for the plough. The cabbages are coming now; The earth exhales. Marvellous. And, yes, I have been to Slough. Of course they never use its full name, Slough of Despond!
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Post by Pete on Aug 19, 2008 9:45:14 GMT
And here's what he thought of the planners and other officials who permitted monstrosities like Slough:
The first-class brains of a senior civil servant Shiver and shatter and fall As the steering column of his comfortable Humber Batters in the bony wall. All those delicate re-adjustments "On the one hand, if we proceed With the ad hoc policy hitherto adapted To individual need... On the other hand, too rigid an arrangement Might, of itself, perforce... I would like to submit for the Minister's concurrence The following alternative course, Subject to revision and reconsideration In the light of our experience gains..." And this had to happen at the corner where the by-pass Comes into Egham out of Staines. That very near miss for an All Souls' Fellowship The recent compensation of a 'K' - The first-class brains of a senior civil servant Are sweetbread on the road today.
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Post by Pete on Aug 19, 2008 9:48:41 GMT
If anyone can post a copy of Metroland, you'll see what Betjeman loved. It was a 1973 TV programme, made when he was Poet Laureate, about the suburbanisation of the area to the north-west of London. But it's beautiful and poetic. And I have just added it to my Amazon wish list.
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Post by Alan Palmer on Aug 19, 2008 9:51:17 GMT
Was the railway station still functioning? It closed in 1966, apparently.
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