Farewell To Verse
In youth when oft my muse was dumb,
My fancy nighly dead,
To make my inspiration come
I stood upon my head;
And thus I let the blood down flow
Into my cerebellum,
And published every Spring or so
Slim tomes in vellum.
Alas! I am rheumatic now,
Grey is my crown;
I can no more with brooding brow
Stand upside-down.
I fear I might in such a pose
Burst brain blood-vessel;
And that would be a woeful close
To my rhyme wrestle.
If to write verse I must reverse
I fear I'm stymied;
In ink of prose I must immerse
A pen de-rhymèd.
No more to spank the lyric lyre
Like Keats or Browning,
May I inspire the Sacred Fire
My Upside-downing.
poem by Robert William Service
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Related quotes
Self-Portrait in Shoulder Stand
Old bag of bones
upside down,
what are you searching for
in poetry,
in meditation?
The mother you never had?
The child in you
that you did not conceive?
Death?
Ease from fear of death?
Revelation?
Dwelling in the house of clouds
where you imagine
you once lived?
'Born alone,
we depart alone.'
Someone said that
during meditation
& I nearly wept.
Oh melancholy lady
behind your clown face,
behind your wisecracks-
how heady it is
to let the ideas rush to your brain!
But even upside down,
you are sad.
Even upside down,
you think of your death.
Even upside down,
you curse the emptiness.
Meditating
on the immobile lotus,
your mind takes flight
like a butterfly
& dabbles in bloodred poppies
& purple heather.
Defying gravity,
defying death,
what makes you think
the body's riddle
is better solved
upside down?
Blood rushes to your head
like images that come too fast
to write.
After a life held in the double grips
of gravity & time,
after a headfirst birth
out of your mother's bowels
& into the earth,
you practice for the next.
You make your body light
so that in time,
feet first,
you will be born
into the sky.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bonzo Goes To Bitberg
You've got to pick up the pieces C'mon, sort your trash
You better pull yourself back together Maybe you've got too much cash
Better call, call the law When you gonna turn yourself in? Yeah
You're a politician Don't become one of Hitler's children
Bonzo goes to bitburg then goes out for a cup of tea
As I watched it on TV somehow it really bothered me
Drank in all the bars in town for an extended foreign policy
Pick up the pieces
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
Shouldn't wish you happiness, wish her the very best Fifty thousand dollar dress
Shaking hands with your highness See through you like cellophane
You watch the world complain, but you do it anyway Who am I, am I to say
Bonzo goes to bitburg then goes out for a cup of tea
As I watched it on TV somehow it really bothered me
Drank in all the bars in town for an extended foreign policy
Pick up the pieces
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
If there's one thing that makes me sick It's when someone tries to hide behind politics
I wish that time could go by fast Somehow they manage to make it last
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bonzo Goes To Bitburg
Youve got to pick up the pieces cmon, sort your trash
You better pull yourself back together maybe youve got too much cash
Better call, call the law when you gonna turn yourself in? yeah
Youre a politician dont become one of hitlers children
Bonzo goes to bitburg then goes out for a cup of tea
As I watched it on tv somehow it really bothered me
Drank in all the bars in town for an extended foreign policy
Pick up the pieces
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
Shouldnt wish you happiness, wish her the very best fifty thousand dollar dress
Shaking hands with your highness see through you like cellophane
You watch the world complain, but you do it anyway who am i, am I to say
Bonzo goes to bitburg then goes out for a cup of tea
As I watched it on tv somehow it really bothered me
Drank in all the bars in town for an extended foreign policy
Pick up the pieces
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
If theres one thing that makes me sick its when someone tries to hide behind politics
I wish that time could go by fast somehow they manage to make it last
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dahmer Is Dead
Dahmer is dead
Dahmer is dead.
A broomstick bashed him upside his head.
Upside the head, upside the head.
Bloody broomstick.
Dahmer is dead.
Am I supposed to feel outrage?
Am I supposed to feel sorrow?
Jeffery dahmer has no right tommorrow.
Dahmer is dead
Dahmer is dead
A broomstick bashed him upside his head.
Dahmer is dead
Dahmer is dead
Bloody broomstick.
Dahmer is dead.
Along with a broomstick upside his head.
Along with broomstick.
Dahmer is dead.
Gordon gano: vocals, guitar
Brian ritchie: acoustic bass guitar, vocals,
Guy hoffman: drums, vocals
Produced by brian ritchie and gordon gano
Recorded and mixed by david vartanian at dvs perversion room, milwaukee, wi
gorno music reprinted with permission
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dahmer Is Dead
Dahmer is dead
Dahmer is dead.
A broomstick bashed him upside his head.
Upside the head, upside the head.
Bloody broomstick.
Dahmer is dead.
Am I supposed to feel outrage?
Am I supposed to feel sorrow?
Jeffery dahmer has no right tommorrow.
Dahmer is dead
Dahmer is dead
A broomstick bashed him upside his head.
Dahmer is dead
Dahmer is dead
Bloody broomstick.
Dahmer is dead.
Along with a broomstick upside his head.
Along with broomstick.
Dahmer is dead.
Gordon gano: vocals, guitar
Brian ritchie: acoustic bass guitar, vocals,
Guy hoffman: drums, vocals
Produced by brian ritchie and gordon gano
Recorded and mixed by david vartanian at dvs perversion room, milwaukee, wi
gorno music reprinted with permission
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inner Tube
On the warm July river
head back
upside down river
for a roof
slowly paddling
towards an estuary between trees
there's a dog
learning to swim near me
friends on shore
my head
dips
back to the eyebrow
I'm the prow
on an ancient vessel,
this afternoon
I'm going down to Peru
soul between my teeth
a blue heron
with its awkward
broken backed flap
upside down
one of us is wrong
he
his blue grey thud
thinking he knows
the blue way
out of here
or me
poem by Michael Ondaatje
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Parody Of John Keats 'On The Sonnet
Parody to follow, but first, the real deal sonnet by John Keats,1819...
----------…
John Keats sonnet.....'On the Sonnet'...
If by dull rhymes our English must be chained,
And, like Andromeda, the Sonnet sweet
Fettered, in spite of painéd loveliness;
Let us find out, if we must be constrained,
Sandals more interwoven and complete
To fit the naked foot of poesy;
Let us inspect the lyre, and weigh the stress
Of every chord, and see what may be gained
By ear industrious, and attention meet;
Misers of sound and syllable, no less
Than Midas of his coinage, let us be
Jealous of dead leaves in the bay-wreath crown;
So, if we may not let the Muse be free,
She will be bound with garlands of her own.
----------…
My parody.....'On Rhyme and Money'
If by dull rhyme our fortune's attained,
let us speak, shout, seek, complete with all pain
tomorrow's journey to our bank account.
Ignore that woman chained by wisdom's fount.
Was she not acclaimed in her day and time?
Her eternal beauty bought for a dime
from every passing vendor. How vane!
Her shame, wanting blonde tresses. Brunette's bane!
Forlorn, forsworn, we apply merely base
words, structure, to the poetics of haste.
And, all meaning wanting, we write cheap
nonsensical verse, all rhyming replete.
We of beggars' free verse stand time's testing,
penniless, but with no gods are jesting.
poem by Elysabeth Faslund
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My Masters
Of Poetry I've been accused,
But much more often I have not;
Oh, I have been so much amused
By those who've put me on the spot,
And measured me by rules above
Those I observe with equal love.
An artisan of verse am I,
Of simple sense and humble tone;
My Thesaurus is handy by,
A rhyming lexicon I own;
Without them I am ill at ease -
What bards would use such aids as these?
Bad poets make good verse, they say;
The Great have not distained to woo
The modest muse of every day;
Read Longfellow and Byron through,
The fabric test - much verse you'll see
Compared with what is poetry.
Small blame; one cannot always soar
To heights of hyaline sublime;
Melodious prose one must deplore,
And fetters of rebellious rhyme:
Keats, Browning - that's another tale,
But even Giants fail and fail.
I've worshipped Ryley, Harte and Field,
And though their minstrelsy I lack,
To them heart-homage here I yield,
And follow with my verseman's pack:
To them with gratitude I look,
For briefing me to make this book.
poem by Robert William Service
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There is no Fear
The people of this world, if against they stand,
There is no fear, there is no fear, nothing like fear.
Although, we are counted cheap and rebuked,
There is no fear , there is no fear , nothing like fear.
If to beg for food, would be a life attained,
There is no fear , there is no fear , nothing like fear.
Loveable possessions if, are lost,
There is no fear , there is no fear , nothing like fear.
2. If clothed bosomed damsels, cast their eyes
There is no fear , there is no fear , nothing like fear.
Poison in the mouth, if fed by friends
There is no fear , there is no fear , nothing like fear.
Shielded armies, if to attack approach
There is no fear , there is no fear , nothing like fear.
On the acme of my head, if the sky did crash and plummet down
There is no fear , there is no fear , nothing like fear.
poem by Subramanya Bharathi
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Your God Is Fear
Your god is fear
That all you are
Is all there is
Your god is fear
And nothing more
Of all of this
Your god is fear
Been and gone
in the blink of an eye
Fear of ever breathing
Fear of ever leaving
Fear of ever changing
Forever, for now
Your god is fear
Your god is fear
Your god is fear
Your god is fear
That all you are
Is all there is
Your god is fear
Of nothing more
Than all of this
Your god is fear
Been and gone
In the blink of an eye
Fear of ever choosing it
Fear of ever losing it
Fear of ever playing
Forever, for now
Your god is fear
Your god is fear
Your god is fear
Just for a moment
Feel it inside
Feel it alive
Feel your desire
Feel it catch fire
Feel it inspire
How all you are
Is all there is
Nothing ever moves
In anything
Open your mind
Step out of time
Let yourself die
And your god is
Your god is
Your god...
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blood Flow
Blood, blood
Let it all flow
Crimson
The worlds new gold
A precious ruby
The most sacred jewel
Blood
Sweet poisonous blood
Let it flow as a snake river may
Let it fall like the cruel rain
Red red
Crimson red
Let it pour
Let it drain
Into my goblet of fire
A delicious meal
My sinful desire
poem by Janelle Morehart
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Prempeh
The dead know nothing and the living are living in fear!
But you are too young to be inspired by this message at hand;
For, the intospections of my realm are than the things you love.
Present in the blood are viruses!
And like a colourful durber with the muse of love;
But, my pet is the cat and,
To relocate my mind is like the muse of my residence.
The micro organisms are in the blood!
So, do inform Prempeh my friend to visit me;
For, i do have a message for him in this land of many rivers! !
But, do keep fit with your romance and keep fit with the love around you as well.
The beasts of a woman are now on the hairy chest of a man!
but, the dead know nothing and the living are living in fear! !
But this muse of love is now noted in your land;
For, the days are now shorter than the beautiful flowers of love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Goat And I
Each sunny day upon my way
A goat I pass;
He has a beard of silver grey,
A bell of brass.
And all the while I am in sight
He seems to muse,
And stares at me with all his might
And chews and chews.
Upon the hill so thymy sweet
With joy of Spring,
He hails me with a tiny bleat
Of welcoming.
Though half the globe is drenched with blood
And cities flare,
Contentedly he chews the cud
And does not care.
Oh gentle friend, I know not what
Your age may be,
But of my years I'd give the lot
Yet left to me,
To chew a thistle and not choke,
But bright of eye
Gaze at the old world-weary bloke
Who hobbles by.
Alas! though bards make verse sublime,
And lines to quote,
It takes a fool like me to rhyme
About a goat.
poem by Robert William Service
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Music and Lyrics
What is the music?
The music is blood
Flowing endlessly
The music is the blood
Pumping the air that I breathe
The music’s in my blood
Though no one can see
What is the lyric?
The lyric is the body
That moves to the beat
Made to make rhythums
And rock to the beat
The lyric is the body
That I move so skillfully
The lyric is my body
That no one can take from me
So I say
In praise to my glorious blood
And my temple of a body
Hail!
They are a nonstop stereo
To my nonstop rhythum and flow
You cannot move without joy
You cannot sing without love
Your heart will not pump
With hate at it's core
Your beat will not prosper
Without a proper score
So what to say to those whose hate?
Hate to dance? Hate to sing?
Hate to music? Hate to enjoy anything?
Hate me? Hate you?
Hate one? Hate two?
Hate color? Hate skin?
Hate women? Hate men?
We shall say dance
For that is what we do
We shall say make music
It is the only cure
So, don't hate my music
Don't hate my dance
It flows like a river
It rings inside your head
It shines like a light
It rings like a bell
It opens the gates of heaven
And closes the gates of hell
Sing and dance with all your might
Sing and dance with an adversaries knife
For you stand victorious
In rhythum and heart
For you stand victorious
And music is in your heart!
poem by Ashley Storey
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A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
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Free Verse
I admire all the aims of Free Verse,
‘tis explicit in all that I do
in shaping the stress to converse
with a rhyme-scheme restricted to two.
That I stay with this number is true, -
a linguistic abuse, maybe worse,
how it weighs and encumbers the view! -
but French art needs its aid, though perverse.
Else the Muse would be dumb to a curse,
for to accent, the lingo’s deaf too, -
though what can one do? All’s averse
to fantasy rhyme calls on cue!
May Free Verse’s aims bring joy unto
the young sparks who chance meanings coerce -
whose mental gymnastics’ fun value
is the fire to inspire hopes they’d nurse.
They’re young colts who green pastures traverse
with gravity worthy their virtue,
though mad they’re superb, and no hearse
they’d inherit! Free Verse tempts! You too?
poem by Paul Verlaine, translated by Jonathan Robin
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Poet's Thirst
Why do I thirst to pen a verse?
Would prose not do as well?
The rhyme is music to my ears
and the lyrical swell
can never be found in prose
and so I say to those.
'Write your story in novel form
or fictionalize your book.
I will pen my verse instead
and capture you with my hook.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Poetry
Yes, I shall swear by you, my verse,
I shall wheeze out, before I swoon:
You're not a tenor's shape and voice,
You're summer travelling third class,
You are a suburb, not a tune.
You're a street as close as May,
You're a battlefield at night,
Where clouds groan loudly in dismay
And scatter, when dismissed, in fright.
And, splitting in the railway's lace-
That's outskirts, not refrain and home-
They crawl back to their native place
Without a song, as if struck dumb.
The shower's offshoots stick in clusters
Till break of day, and all the time
They scribble on the roofs acrostics
And bubble up rhyme after rhyme.
All poetry is what you make it.
And even when the truism's not worth
The rhyme, the flow of verse is scared.
The notebook's open-so flow forth!
poem by Boris Pasternak
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I Fear
I fear for the innocent
I fear for the law
I fear for the young
I fear for the old
I fear for the dead
living in my head
I fear for my sanity
I fear for humanity
I fear for this world
and what we have done
Then I realize
I don't fear at all because...
I fear
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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Fears of a teenage mafioso
Fear of love,
Fear of pain,
Fear of the unforgiving cane,
Fear of lies,
Fear of sighs,
Fear of those distraught eyes,
Fear for the unknown,
Fear for the known,
Fear of everything combined,
Fear is what makes me blind,
Fear is what makes me think,
and act in blind accordance,
Hindering the world around me,
Hence, My Fear of myself
Fear is when you run away,
Fear is when you’re scared to love someone,
Fear is when the sky turns grey,
Fear of confusion,
Fear is like a dark blue ocean,
Fear won’t let me escape
Fear mocks me, watching
Fear taunts me, waiting
Fear of losing,
Fear you cannot see,
Fear dealt upon thee.
Fear of darkness and death,
Fear of a dead comrade,
Fear of a gun being cocked,
Fear of being endlessly stalked,
Fear of time,
Fear of all the crime,
Fear of the undesirable truth,
Fear for the good.
Fear for the sake of life,
Fear of the neighbors next door,
Fear of the secretive man in the subway,
Fear of the revolutionary uproar,
Fear is to not rejoice your living,
Fear for the sake of your life,
But to fear is to forsake it.
Fear is to have no hope in life,
Fear of the fear of fear,
We need no reason to fear,
For fear has no reason for itself.
I guess life is just like that,
To fear for no reason,
For to fear is not to reason,
But to reason is to fear.
To fear for the sake of fear,
Is fear for fear,
So let me think,
What else do I fear?
What else do I fear?
What else do I fear?
poem by David daveres
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