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Shaft o'Thrills - Parody William Wordsworth - Daffodils

She wandered lonely in a crowd
that fills the Internet for thrills,
when all at once she thought aloud,
hosts surfing, toasting golden pills,
beside the screen, beyond base tease,
revamping her priorities.

Continuous as the stars that shine
and twinkle over life today
she sought a never-ending line
to set example, quoted play:
Ten thousand thinklings at a glance
were tossed while head sought elegance.

The waves within met some which stray
by chance or fate, late sparkling glee:
a poet could not but be gay,
acknowledging eternity.
She gazed, she gazed, but little thought
untaught taut flow's show glow had brought:

Once, often on her couch she’d lie
in vacant or in pensive mood.
Wish flashed, dot dashing inward eye
to compensate her solitude.
Henceforth her heart with pleasure fills,
advancing with her writing skills.

poem by Jonathan Robin
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I wandered lonely as a cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed---and gazed---but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

poem by William Wordsworth
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Daffodils

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

poem by William Wordsworth
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Western Moon and Eastern Sun!

Stare I at the stars,
Stairs I find in my heart,
I look at wonder at sky,
Why can't I find a new and try!

The Moon of West is romantic,
wander in the garden of many rosy stars,
Sun of East rose and brightened the sky and faded away both moon and stars
Large and black sky,
Now looked blue and small!

My mind sang with Tolkien,

"Still round the corner there
may wait
A new road or a secret gate
And though I oft have passed
them by
A day will come at last when I Shall take the hidden paths that
run
West of the Moon, East of the
Sun."

Than with Pablo Neruda,

"I crave your mouth, your voice,
your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl
through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me,
dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of
your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage
harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a
whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam
flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade
of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry,
sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barrens of
Quitratue."

Dreamed with silverstien,

"If you are a dreamer come in
If you are a dreamer a wisher a
liar
A hoper a pray-er a magic-bean-
buyer
If youre a pretender com sit by my fire
For we have some flax golden
tales to spin
Come in!
Come in! '

Then with the Wordsworth,

'I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, The stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee; A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company; I gazed - and gazed - but little thought What wealth to me the show had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.'

Then with Rumi,

' Don't look at your form, however ugly or beautiful. Look at love and at the aim of your quest.... O you whose lips are parched, keep looking for water. Those parched lips are proof that eventually you will reach the source.'

Finally with Shankaracharya

' universe is the dance of infinite,
BRAHMAN is the Truth and not the Universe,
But universe is nothing but BRAHMAN,
And you art that Truth! '

And my wandering mind died and I am one with him!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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When red the wine

When red the wine
fills the glass
to its brim,
with sparkling shine
and taste sublime

and candles flicker
in the dark
and soft hands entwine
around mine,

I see the blush
upon your cheek
and the words you speak
sounds like a murmur
in my ear.

There are stars that shine
in the night
but your golden eyes
are much more bright.

Later as passion
gets a life of its own
rapture fills the body,
mind and soul

and I thank Him
that made you mine
and blessed by planting
the first vine.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Nature And Art. To My Friend Charles Booth Nettleton

I.
THE young queen Nature, ever sweet and fair,
Once on a time fell upon evil days.
From hearing oft herself discussed with praise,
There grew within her heart the longing rare
To see herself; and every passing air
The warm desire fanned into lusty blaze.
Full oft she sought this end by devious ways,
But sought in vain, so fell she in despair,
For none within her train nor by her side
Could solve the task or give the envied boon.
So day and night, beneath the sun and moon,
She wandered to and fro unsatisfied,
Till Art came by, a blithe inventive elf,
And made a glass wherein she saw herself.
II.
Enrapt, the queen gazed on her glorious self,
Then trembling with the thrill of sudden thought,
Commanded that the skilful wight be brought
That she might dower him with lands and pelf.
Then out upon the silent sea-lapt shelf
And up the hills and on the downs they sought
Him who so well and wondrously had wrought;
And with much search found and brought home the elf.
But he put by all gifts with sad replies,
And from his lips these words flowed forth like wine:
'O queen, I want no gift but thee,' he said.
She heard and looked on him with love-lit eyes,
Gave him her hand, low murmuring, 'I am thine,'
And at the morrow's dawning they were wed.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Juliet After The Masquerade. By Thompson

SHE left the festival, for it seem'd dim
Now that her eye no longer dwelt on him,
And sought her chamber,--gazed, (then turn'd away),
Upon a mirror that before her lay,
Half fearing, half believing her sweet face
Would surely claim within his memory place.
The hour was late, and that night her light foot
Had been the constant echo of the lute;
Yet sought she not her pillow, the cool air
Came from the casement, and it lured her there.
The terrace was beneath, and the pale moon
Shone o'er the couch which she had press'd at noon,
Soft-lingering o'er some minstrel's love-lorn page,--
Alas, tears are the poet's heritage!

She flung her on that couch, but not for sleep;
No, it was only that the wind might steep
Her fever'd lip in its delicious dew:
Her brow was burning, and aside she threw
Her cap and plume, and, loosen'd from its fold,
Came o'er her neck and face a shower of gold,
A thousand curls. It was a solitude
Made for young hearts in love's first dreaming mood:--
Beneath the garden lay, fill'd with rose-trees
Whose sighings came like passion on the breeze.

Two graceful statues of the Parian stone
So finely shaped, that as the moonlight shone
The breath of life seem'd to their beauty given,
But less the life of earth than that of heaven.
'Twas PSYCHE and her boy-god, so divine
They turn'd the terrace to an idol shrine,
With its white vases and their summer share
Of flowers, like altars raised to that sweet pair.

And there the maiden leant, still in her ear
The whisper dwelt of that young cavalier;
It was no fancy, he had named the name
Of love, and at that thought her cheek grew flame:
It was the first time her young ear had heard
A lover's burning sigh, or silver word;
Her thoughts were all confusion, but most sweet,--
Her heart beat high, but pleasant was its beat.

She murmur'd over many a snatch of song
That might to her own feelings now belong;
She thought upon old histories she had read,
And placed herself in each high heroine's stead,
Then woke her lute,--oh! there is little known
Of music's power till aided by love's own.
And this is happiness: oh! love will last
When all that made it happiness is past,--
When all its hopes are as the glittering toys
Time present offers, time to come destroys,--
When they have been too often crush'd to earth,
For further blindness to their little worth,--
When fond illusions have dropt one by one,
Like pearls from a rich carkanet, till none
Are left upon life's soil'd and naked string,--
And this is all what time will ever bring.

--And that fair girl,--what can the heart foresee
Of her young love, and of its destiny?
There is a white cloud o'er the moon, its form
Is very light, and yet there sleeps the storm;
It is an omen, it may tell the fate
Of love known all too soon, repented all too late.

poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Exchanges

All that I had I brought,
Little enough I know;
A poor rhyme roughly wrought,
A rose to match thy snow:
All that I had I brought.

Little enough I sought:
But a word compassionate,
A passing glance, or thought,
For me outside the gate:
Little enough I sought.

Little enough I found:
All that you had, perchance!
With the dead leaves on the ground,
I dance the devil's dance.
All that you had I found.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Introductory Verses

Oh, you who read some song that I have sung –
What know you of the soul from whence it sprung?

Dost dream the poet ever speaks aloud
His secret thought unto the listening crowd?

Go take the murmuring sea-shell from the shore-
You have its shape, its colour – and no more.

It tells not one of those vast mysteries
That lie beneath the surface of the seas.

Our songs are shells, cast out by waves of thought;
Here, take them at your pleasure; but think not

You’ve seen the beneath the surface of the waves,
Where lie our shipwrecks, and our coral caves.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Role Play Dreams

We've been fogged by ambiguity.
And role play dreams.

It,
Had been never my wish...
To leave you.
Maybe to lead and guide.
As if to mentor.
It,
Was something done,
We both needed.
That's what I,
In my selfishness believed.

Perhaps it was me,
Who sought compassion.
On a schedule.
And you...
Sought that too!
Too much.
As if to greed.

You were someone I could easily love.
Endlessly.
And maybe you felt squeezed.
Or sought you thought to please...
A constant feeding of my needs.
And fresh air was not there enough...
For you to freely breathe.

Perhaps it was me,
Who sought compassion.
On a schedule.
And you...
Sought that too!
Too much.
As if to greed.
But you received little of that from me.
And too late it is for me to see.

We've been fogged by ambiguity.
And role play dreams.

It,
Had been never my wish...
To leave you.
Maybe to lead and guide.
As if to mentor.
It,
Was something done,
We both needed.
That's what I,
In my selfishness believed.

And it that could have been,
Has diminished.
With me,
Selfishly...
Thinking of myself as the center,
Ending your dreams with me...
Foolishly finishing to end it!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This girl of mine

This girl of mine
Shes so kind and sweet
Fills my heart with cheer
Fills it to the brim

This girl of mine
Shes so mysterious
Fills my head with thought
Fills it with such easy

This girl of mine
Oh so honest and real
Always fills my sight
Never again to be blind

In good
In bad
In best
In worst
In rich
In poor
In happiness
In sadness
In anger
In confusion

No mater what happens
She shall forever remain
This girl of mine.

(not like most of my poems, but it was 3 am in the morning and I wrote it for our 18 month anniversary.)

poem by Justin Jones
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I've Got a Golden Ticket

I never thought my life could be
Anything but catastrophe
But suddenly I begin to see
A bit of good luck for me

'Cause I've got a golden ticket
I've got a golden twinkle in my eye

I never had a chance to shine
Never a happy song to sing
But suddenly half the world is mine
What an amazing thing

'Cause I've got a golden ticket
It's ours, Charlie
I've got a golden sun up in the sky

I never thought I'd see the day
When I would face the world and say
Good morning, look at the sun
I never thought that I would be
Slap in the lap of luxury'
Cause I'd have said it couldn't be done
But it can be done

I never dreamed that I would climb
Over the moon in ecstasy
But nevertheless, it's there that I'm
Shortly about to be

'Cause I've got a golden ticket
I've got a golden chance to make my way
And with a golden ticket, it's a golden day

Good morning, look at the sun'
Cause I'd have said it couldn't be done
But it can be done

I never dreamed that I would climb
Over the moon in ecstasy
But nevertheless, it's there that I'm
Shortly about to be

'Cause I've got a golden ticket'
Cause I've got a golden ticket
I've got a golden chance to make my way
And with a golden ticket, it's a golden day

poem by Roald Dahl
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Unicorn 5

To graze forever in the poet’s heart; how could this,
they asked, be possible? An image, yes;
a memory; but could it really live its life within the mind,
graze undisturbed, at ease, at home,
and glance the grave, sweet meaning in its eyes,
when there’s so much of else that fills the world, the mind, outside?

Those who first saw it first, were content to be, just gaze,
attention focussed as its heavenly horn marks head and mind,
drinking in that other which themselves would be;
but as its sightings grew, so various,
the theorists sought to build an image
around that which they had not seen,
worshipping a space in which it was not yet;
it must be questioned, says the ordered mind.
Others who had not seen it wished
to have some part, share in reflected glory; maybe learn.
It’s understandable. That, too, the creature understands.

But those who’d met it, in a forest glade,
or, mane tossed by the wind, among the high clear hills,
or proud-necked, white-toothed like a smile, clear-eyed,
among the white-foamed waves – they in whose minds
a space already was; a space, a peace, a stillness -
knew, gracefully, that it grazed in its forever, lived
within themselves;
self-moved; self-stilled.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Twinkle

(kinky friedman)
Oh, I didnt write this song for fortunes made of money,
I only came along just to sing it to you, honey.
Ive dreamed around the bend, Ive looked behind the sky,
Ive seen the rainbows end in the twinkle of an eye.
And until the day our stars all arise
Twinkle, let me shine in your eyes.
In a window from afar it shines in just like a candle,
The shimmer like a star, its more than I can handle,
To hold you in the night, to show you what I told you,
To go down by candlelight, to light the world before you.
And until the day our stars all arise,
Twinkle, let me shine in your eyes.
And until the day our stars all arise,
Twinkle, let me shine in your eyes,
Twinkle, let me shine in your eyes,
Let me shine in your eyes.

song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Glance

I saw her smile from across the room
The romance began and my love did bloom
She then gave me a glance, I wanted to dance
Underneath the stars and the glow of the moon.
She would be mine forever that night I thought
As slowly towards her that love I sought
We will dance and laugh, she will become my path
She will be mine when her heart I had caught.
I close my eyes and I see us years from now
Together we became one as I gave my vow
She became my mate, and now our life is our fate
With every step closer that promise I avow.
Closer and closer as I approached her my love
As though watched and coached from angels above
I am so near, now her presence and voice I do hear
Now only her and I is all that I am thinking of.
I finally arrive and each other we finally do see
She must know I am the man that she wants me to be
So I reach out my hand, to make that final stand
Then she turns to me and say, that glance wasn't for me.

poem by Randy McClave
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Dance Dance…

Dance dance to the evening
In a dim golden flow
As the leaves sing
In their breezy breezy blow
Morning comes to live
Glowing waves of day
More than enough to give
Of its colors golden lay

Dreams that were of night
Are now all laying still
For the daylight bright
Those aspirations fulfill
Dance dance to the night
Fill the moods of song
In your dream starry flight
Those dreamy feelings long

The stars are out to shine
Within their golden glow
Thru space in horizon line
That the skies now show
Harmony of deep freedom
To the darkness remote
Colors of the ad-infinitum
Opening dawn’s fireboat

Dance dance to the evening
In a dim golden flow
As the leaves sing
In their breezy breezy blow
Morning comes to live
Glowing waves of day
More than enough to give
Of its colors golden lay

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Sorrow

HAPPY it was a word
I often thought of.
A sensation
I very seldom knew.
MUSIC a comfort and a friend
perhaps the only one.
I truly ever knew.
I sometimes thought it would be
will I ever know?
Yet unsatisfying,
barely fulfilling, still
it helps me on the road.

Life slowly slipping through my fingers
my eyes are filled with sand.
Work a never-ending nightmare
it fills me with unease.
I would rather die
neath the gentle quiet breeze.

Peace I seek it on the mountain
I find it in a shower.
In the stillborn moonlight
I slowly pass the hour.
One less lonely person
does the credit meet the cost
of that never ending nightmare
of that first real lousy boss.
Of a dream that turned to ashes
in the wind so quickly lost?

Life is but a busy subway
that the frail cannot cross.
And in the gutter we can find them
those that tossed the dice and lost.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Golden links in golden chains

Imagine – well, try to imagine -
what it must have been like
to a poet of, say,1480
in, say, Florence, that sounds civilised,
the day he (probably he) heard for the first time
while scratching away with goose-quill, copying
what used to be a favourite poem
which he’s now beginning to dislike
as he copies it for the nth time
in hope of getting it known –
imagine when he first heard
about this new invention called printing
which of course he couldn’t afford
but which held a golden possibility
of a brave new world of mind so easy shared;
imagine

surfing the internet which has been around
longer than – some of our children – so that
they might assume that Adam and Eve shared a laptop
with a faint scent of figleaves -
surfing the internet hungrily for intimate, telling details
of some, let’s say, poet-hero,
there’s now a chance, that like a heavenly shaft
of sunlight through the dark clouds concealing history,
you – I – hit upon some link; some interview; some audio,
that takes us deeper into that hero’s life
than ever we could have hoped for –

might we hope that such a heavenly insight,
such a golden link in myriad golden chains
might be, oh, a mere shadow of some truly heavenly
facility, truly heavenly experience,
that we may one (day) share?

poem by Michael Shepherd
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You Go To My Head

Haven gillespie / j. fred coots
You go to my head
You linger like a haunting refrain
And I find you spinning round
In my brain
Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne
You go to my head
Like a sip of sparkling burgundy brew
And I find the very mention of you
Like the kicker in a julep or two
The thrill of the thought
That you might give a thought
To my plea, casts a spell over me
Still I say to myself
Get ahold of yourself
Cant you see that it never can be
You go to my head with a smile
That makes my temperature rise
Like a summer with a thousand julys
You intoxicate my soul with your eyes
Though Im certain that this heart of mine
Hasnt a ghost of a chance
In this crazy romance
You go to my head, you go to my head
Though Im certain that this heart of mine
Hasnt a ghost of a chance
In this crazy romance
You go to my head, you go to my head

song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Go To My Head

You go to my head
And you linger like a haunting refrain
And I find you spin'n round in my brain
Like a bubble in a glass of champagne
You go to my head
Like a sip of sparkling burgandy brew
And I find the very mention of you
Like the kicker in a julep or two
Oh the thrill of the thought
That you might give a thought
To my plea
Cast a spell over me
Still I say to myself
Get a hold of yourself
Can't you see that it never can be
Yes
mmm You go to my head
With a smile that makes my temperature rise
Like a summer with a thousand Julys
You intoxicate my soul with your eyes
Though I'm certain that this heart of mine
Hasn't a ghost of a chance
In this crazy romance
You go to my head...
You go to my head...
You go....to....my....head.....

song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh But To Dream

(10/25/12)

Oh but to lay my head down and to dream
Of all my hopes, and prayers- that with others
I can share.

But my dreams have been shattered and scattered
In the wind- never to be seen again.
I had done everything to hold on to my dream
But my strength was drained or so it seems.

I saw my dream now tossed and turned
When once before in my heart it burned.
Why are we given a dream? If it is to be taken away
And with our hearts and mind it does play.

A dream can consume you body and soul
And make you feel completely whole.
It fills your heart like air fills a balloon
But it ends much too soon.

Oh but to dream and see everything fall in place
Like a jigsaw puzzle - or like a painting that takes
On its form, and each stroke knows where it belongs.

in a dream you can no longer put stock
For they can become shattered like the waves
Against the rocks.

But if you put a belief in your dream and Yourself
And find that fire that burns in your heart
Then your dream will find its start.

So once again I will lay down in my bed
And dream my dream and continue ahead.

© L. RAMS

poem by Louis Rams
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