An Autograph
Lines written at the request of a young lady and inserted in a mental Album.
We looked over the book, it was in form of questions and auswers. One
of the questions was 'who is your favorite poet?' We were quite amused
to find a number of different persons had written in answer, 'McIntyre.'
We believe that the most of them were joking, but we hope to inspire them
With loftier idea of our poetic power in the future.
In this Album you may trace-
If not the lineaments of face-
Here, at least, you will find
Photographs of the mind.
Some in earnest, some in fun,
some do lecture, some do pun ;
Here the maiden and the youth,
Each proclaim some precious truth.
And there is some fine pages-
Written by maturer ages-
They show that time is brief,
That soon comes sere and yellow leaf.
But we must cease, 'ere your ire
Be aroused 'gainst McIntyre,
Who doth reside in Ingersoll-
you'll think that he is droll.
poem by James McIntyre
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Related quotes
Gratification
We occasionally get a few gleams of encouragement while struggling through the trials
of life.A number of years ago a person employed by the Dominion Government to give
sketches of the various towns in Canada, and especially to describe the power of the
various streams and the number of streams in each town or neighborhood ; he came to us,
as we had written rhymes on the rivers and creeks. Years afterwards we were informed by
persons who came from Britain, as the book was to encourage emigration,that my name was
the only one they had ever heard of in Ingersoll until they came here.The celebrated
Spaulding, manufacturer and inventor of prepared glue, was in town a few days ago. He
expressed to a gentleman in town that he was gratified with a conversation he had with
me on poetic themes. As there is no natural affinity or adhesion binding glue to poetry,
we might say we discovered that the inventor possessed a refined and cultivated mind
and a fund of American humor.An old lady expressed herself very warmly after reading my
Canadian romance, that it was a true history of herself and husband ; that 35 years ago
they were not worth a dollar,and now they had 500 acres paid for of good land. The
reason why we alluded to this is:-Some have no faith that there is anything worthy of
commemorating in their own country, but consider worthy themes for either song or story
are three thousand miles across the Atlantic.
poem by James McIntyre
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This Poem Should Have Been Written Long Ago By Someone Else
This poem should have been written long ago by someone else
They should have said what needs to be said
Clearly and yet beautifully
They should have known what to do with their words and their intimations -
But instead I old I tired old I I with the I I I always I’ing
Have to write it again-
This poem should have been written by someone else
The way I was when I was young
But even then probably it should have been written by someone else
Younger happier stronger wiser more courageous able to give and inspire others to love life more and make it more good and more beautiful
A real poet a great poet should have written this poem
And then it would be one
Even I would try not to forget.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Brodie Castle
The following sonnet on Brodie Castle Nairnshire, Scotland, was written
by my venerable Uncle, Thomas McIntyre, of St. Catherines, and father
of John B. McIntyre, Ex-Grand Master of the Independant Order of Odd
-fellows, and now, and for many years, an Alderman of the city of
St. Catherines. It was written by him as an acrostic on the words Brodie
Castle. I have taken the liberty of transfusing it into common verse. The
lines prove the old gentlemen to be kind hearted and as having a great
affection for his native land. He has been in. St. Catherines for half a
century, engaged in the same business I have been employed in for
about one-third of a century, in Ingersoll.
Scotland has produced three great shepherds
Talford, the inventor of Suspension Bridges,
Ferguson, the Astronomer, and Hogg the
Ettrick shepherd, the great song writer.
Brodie Castle,ever dear to my heart,
For there I first played my humble part.
When only thirteen, I there had employ.
In the position of a shepherd boy ;
For I was born on that fine estate,
Famed for its trees, so lofty and great,
And its magnificent avenue grand,
Which hath been famed over the land.
And, though I did leave to learn my trade,
And in Western world a home I have made,
Yet, whan I look back, my heart it still cheers,
Though it is now more than threescore years.
Since first I went there as a shepherd boy,
Thoughts of the time fill my heart yet with joy,
Though, that I ne'er shall see Castle more,
Fond memory reverts to the days of yore.
poem by James McIntyre
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Life Gets Me To Wonder
(10/01/11)
Life gets me to wonder, life gets me to think
Am I losing my mind, am I on the brink.
So many questions that enter my mind every day
I think hard about one, and the rest seem to fade away.
Once I find the answer then to the next level I will go
It’s amazing - how god lets us know.
Every question and every answer is a step
That we must climb - and we’ll continue to do this
Till the end of our time.
We will always have questions - that’s why
God gave us a mind.
Knowledge is power on that I don’t deny.
But there are more questions than any of us care to admit
And when we can’t answer them - we surely catch a fit.
Questions about health, love, work, religion
Just to name a few - this list goes on
What are we supposed to do.?
poem by Louis Rams
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The Book
My life is a leaf
Bind together in a book
Written
With sweat and blood
Pages after pages
With the taste of Pain and joy
Every emotion
Big or small
Fully charged
Packed and sealed
Every incident
Recoded in details
For the experience
Good or bad
If you want to learn
Whether there is any love
For you and mankind
You just need to turn
The page number twenty one
Chapter after chapter
Written with mixture
Of success and failure
If any one
Written badly
And Tastes sour
It is my life
Full of blood and flesh
Please pass on to another
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Lines Read at a Dairymaids' Social, 1887
Where the young lady waiters were dressed as dairymaids.
Throughout the world they do extol
The fame of our town Ingersoll,
The capital of dairyland,
To-night it seems like fairy land,
The youth and beauty here arrayed,
So sweet and neat each dairymaid.
And worthy of a poet's theme,
Sweet and smooth flows milk and cream,
For song or glee what is fitter
In this land of cheese and butter,
But no young man should be afraid
To court a pretty dairymaid.
And far abroad he should not roam
But find a charmer here at home,
Find some one now your heart to chear,
Thus celebrate the jubilee year,
Remember long this ladies' aid
And each bewitching dairymaid.
poem by James McIntyre
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Hunting Down Answers
good will hunting
hunting down answers
begins with knowing
asking right questions
i ask questions
questions are good
first the questions
then the answers
next applied an art of reason
where is truth where illusion
where deceit where delusion
where fabricated stealth collusion
jigsaw pieces found misplaced or lost
trail cold warm hot or made of frost
written data primary secondary forgery
forensic clues credibility elementary
preconceptions prime misdirection
story written story read is between lines
audience appeal sharpens attention
truth plot blind thickens deceit quickens
the truth the whole truth nothing but truth
testimony corresponds to facts accuracy
true sincerity true statements error made
life stories real misty truth untruth reality
poem by Terence George Craddock
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How Deep...How High...
My favorite song of all
Is an Irving Berlin song
It starts out with a question
And ends with one more
My favorite song of all time
Its title are the lines
'How deep is the ocean,
how high is the sky? '
A song made up of questions
where two of them are
answered by the one
same question-answer
'How much do I love you?
I tell you no lies'
'And if I ever lost you,
How much would I cry? '
'HOW DEEP IS THE OCEAN,
HOW HIGH IS THE SKY? '
Two different questions
The same answer twice
The answer still a question
(Now don't ask why!)
A hint of something elusive
Something undefined
A fitting answer to that
something I'm trying to find
My favorite song of all time
So poignant so sublime
It never fails to make me cry
How deep...how high...
poem by Sonya Florentino
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A book called life
You find a book. a book unopened for some time. binding worn, title aged and not legible. you open it to find it dusty and blank. it has sat untouched for a quite a while. this book is the story of you. a story not yet written, but exciting non the less. a story to be one of epic, and legend. a story to be passed down for generations. that will be stamped into the pages of history and inspire forever. we all have a story, we simply need to write it.
poem by Nick Feiner
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I Have Written Too Many Poems Of Despair
I HAVE WRITTEN TOO MANY POEMS OF DESPAIR
I have written too many poems of despair-
Too much complaint-
Too much sorrow grief sadness difficulty pain-
I should have written more of hope of youth of love-
I should have sung of happiness
I should have been been a poet
Who helps others love life more
I can try now-
But can words of ‘will’ really be poetry?
It is when the lines come to the mind and heart
On their own
Naturally
That the poem begins to live.
Does this sound like a ‘happy poem’?
Or yet another lament for what I am
And have not been?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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In The Stone
Maurice white, david foster & allee willis
I found that love, provides
The key-unlocks, the heart and souls, of you and me-
Love will love, to sing your song,
Love is written in the stone
Every man, I meet is walking time-
Free to wander, past his conscious mind,
Love will come, and take you home-
Love is written, in the stone
Do you believe, my friend, in what you claim, people of the world,
All doubt the same-bringing questions
Of their own-truth is written,
In the stone
In the stone, youll find the meaning
Why youre not standing tall
In the stone
The light is shining, forever touching all-
Life experience a passing day
Time will witness, what the ole
Folks say-getting stronger every day
-strenght is written in the stone-
Deep inside, our hearts for us
To keep-lies a spark of light that
Never sleeps
The greatest, youve ever known-
Yea is written-
In the stone
In the stone, youll find the meaning
Why youre not standing tall
In the stone
The light is shining, forever touching all-
Never, never my darling, never youll
Be alone-forever, ever my darling
True love is written in the stone-
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Over Your Face
When I see you, you smile as if everything is alright,
but I know your smile is just a mask for your hurt and sadness,
for the truth is written all over your face.
Behind your dark brown gleaming eyes I can see the tears you have cried.
It’s written all over your face.
I can even see behind your blush the anger wrinkles in your cheeks from you clinching your teeth. It’s written all over your face.
I can even see the hurt and disappointment you now carry in your soul.
It’s written all over your face.
I just want you to know my friend I’m there for you whenever you need a shoulder to cry on, an ear to vent in, and of course arms to hug you. I love and care for you and hope you can see that because it’s written all over my face.
Questions?
i am tired of questions
all of them
too familiar and all
with ready
homemade answers
canned questions
and answers
in one book
scanned for years
and you all know them
canned laughter
canned faces
canned souls
canned and caned and chained
bones
they rattle and they shake
and roll
i have no answers.
i am throwing all these questions away.
i live everyday. i look at the trees
and the forests.
i simply live. Now.
i have no more questions.
neither will i demand
any answer from you.
go, go, find yourself.
i stay here wanting to find nothing at all.
i guess, after my 48 years
there is this truth
that i find: there is nothing
nothing to find
nothing to expect
nowhere to go
it is just this and this and this.
the one that i have in my hand
the one that i keep on holding
i enclose it and keep it warm
and alive
and you do not even care
this is it: me, myself, and I
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Do Not Feel Very Poetic Today
I do not feel very poetic today-
And now I make that feeling the ‘subject’ of a poem-
Once Poetry seemed to be confined
To certain more sublime subjects -
But in our time
When every Form seems to expand to take into itself its opposite
Poetry makes itself of the non- poetic also -
There is no subject apparently
Which is non- poetic
Once a poem is written about it-
I do not feel very poetic today
And these plain and unbeautiful lines
This awkward presentation
Is what I am capable of
Poem or not,
I have written it now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Great Fire of Ingersoll
Written at the time of the disaster.
'Twas on a pleasant eve in May.
Just as the sun shed its last ray,
The bell it rang, citizens to warn,
For lo ! a fire appears in barn.
An ancient barn near hotel stood,
The joining buildings all were wood ;
This barn a relic of the past,
There farmers' horses were made fast.
Our once fair town is now in woe,
And we have had our Chicago ;
But soon a nobler town will rise,
For Ingersoll's all enterprise.
For water far town need not seek,
As there is river and the creek
Just find the means it to apply
And then all fires must quickly die.
poem by James McIntyre
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zPt #2 Hope
Hope
Not wind ~ but breeze
Not boat ~ but raft
Not fact ~ but presumption
Yet evident
and constant
... if I but consent
to keep on trying
Mary Havran
(Written when poet was eleven years old)
A note to the reader: I have recently spent some time revisiting my earliest poetic efforts and upon
Reflection have decided to post some on this sit. Poems whose titles are prefixed with the designation “zPt” are poems written during my preteen years. I hope you find them interesting.
poem by Mary Havran
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The Feeling Of Poetry Is Lost
THE FEELING OF POETRY IS LOST
The feeling of poetry is lost -
Lines are written,
But they are without poetic feeling.
Dutiful lines which do not inspire.
I try
Line by line
To restore my soul.
I do not feel I am doing this.
Can a poem be written without poetic feeling inside?
Is what I am doing now
A poem?
Or is it simply one more small delusion
Through which a life is gotten through?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Time Spent In Dress
In many a lecture, many a book,
You all have heard, you all have read,
That time is precious. Of its use
Much has been written, much been said.
The accomplishments which gladden life,
As music, drawing, dancing, are
Encroachers on our precious time;
Their praise or dispraise I forbear.
They should be practised or forborne,
As parents wish, or friends desire:
What rests alone in their own will
Is all I of the young require.
There's not a more productive source
Of waste of time to the young mind
Than dress; as it regards our hours
My view of it is now confined.
Without some calculation, youth
May live to age and never guess,
That no one study they pursue
Takes half the time they give to dress.
Write in your memorandum-book
The time you at your toilette spend;
Then every moment which you pass,
Talking of dress with a young friend:
And ever when your silent thoughts
Have on this subject been intent,
Set down as nearly as you can
How long on dress your thoughts were bent.
If faithfully you should perform
This task, 'twould teach you to repair
Lost hours, by giving unto dress
Not more of time than its due share.
poem by Charles Lamb
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The album is a definite departure. I haven't written original material before, except for one song on my first album, but Elvis and I did six songs together on this one.
quote by Diana Krall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Welcome to the Prince of Wales
Lines written when the Prince of Wales
was about embarking for Canada, May, 1860.
In his long voyage o'er the sea,
To where doth grow the maple tree,
May he be blest with pleasant gales-
The coming man, the Prince of Wales.
The Maple grows but in good soil,
Where nature doth reward for toil.
The farmer, splitting his fence rails,
He welcome bids the Prince of Wales.
In the woods the axe is ringing,
And the yeoman merry singing ;
The song resounds o'er hills and dales -
Our future king, the Prince of Wales.
'Round the brow of our future chief
We'll weave a wreath of maple leaf,
For o'er broad Canada prevails
Kind feelings to the Prince of Wales.
When in this land the Prince arrives
May he have many pleasant drives,
And on our lakes have merry sails-
Great king of princes, Prince of Wales.
poem by James McIntyre
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