h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

i love daffadils, i love prose one that springs to mind is my oedipus complex.

a poem i favour is 'to his coy mistress but i don't recall who its by?

it might be possible to do a google search to find out... [hint hint... any pc users lurking about?!...]

will try to cut and paste the poems we came out with a few months ago [before an epic food smiley fight made the thread unaccessible...]... we came up with a few little gems there...

talk soon...

loup

Ghia...oooh i know that one..now who was it by!!!...damn cant remember.Ive got a big ole book of classic poems by somewhere ..will have to try n find it.

One of my favourites is Renouncement by Alice Meynell..will find where ive written it down n post it later ...soppy?..me?..never!..

And could forget that one by the unknown author..id love to know who wrote it...cos its gorgeous...now lets see if i can remember it right.

"Do not stand by my grave and weep.
I am not there,
I do not sleep,
damn i cat remembr the nxt bit quite..dont wanna get muddled..will pop back later

it says about the worms taking her virginity away... damn i wish i had access to the library...

Ghia..am late for school (or rather Joe is...lol)..ill have a look for that book when i get back..hope ive still got it as a load of stuff got thrown out a while ago

Bu**er cant find it...

Renouncement ...by Alice Meynell.

I must not think of thee and tired yet strong,
I shun the thought that lurks in all delight.
The thought of thee ,and in the blue heavens height,
And in the sweetest passage of a song.


Oh,just beyond the fairest thoughts that throng this breast,
The thought of thee waits,
hidden though bright.
Yet it must never,never come in sight.
I must stop short of thee the whole day long.

But when sleeps comes to close each difficult day,
When night gives pause to the long watch i keep,
All my bonds are loosed apart,
must doff my will as raiment laid away.
With the first dream that comes with the first sleep,
I run,i run,i am gathered to thy heart..

a bbc link that could be related to this thread:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/poetry/index.shtml

haven't checked it yet...

There is a poem that read either in a Reader's Digest or Friends magazine it is called You are the Child of the Universe. It has been set to music sometime in the 70's or 80's.

Here is all I can remember

You are a child of the Universe, you have a right to be here.


If I ever manage to get the whole transcript of the poem I will put on here as it is a very profound.


JA

MY POEM
I'm over 40,
but i dont care.
I've still got my looks.
I've still got my hair.
The menopause is looming,
over the hill.
At least i'll no longer be needing the pill.
My mind is still slert.
My body still willing.
I've still got my teeth,
well apart from the fillings.
I can see a few wrinkles,
if i have a close look.
But apart from that,
lifes pretty good!

I am a child born of the storm
a spirit of darkness
a catalyst
I live in the night
forgotten and betrayed by the day.
The moon is my only light
as I wander this world alone.
I am bound to my task
by vows as old as time.
I am a child of the night
ethereal incarnate as mundane,
I can only fight
and dance the winds
as the storm rises.
I am a child of power,
fire runs in my veins.
I am meant to be free
as wild as the elements,
unfettered by mortal values
by time.
I am a child,
the universe stands before me.
All knowledge,
all power,
all future is mine.
I am a child of possibility
all is mine.
I run the storm.
I run the night.
I run the winds.
I am a child of the darkness
and I am free.

By Anon

JA

thanks everyone...

great stuff....



loup

The night has a thousand eyes
And the day but one
Yet the light of the bright world dies
with the dying sun

the mind has a thousand eyes
and the heart but one
yet the light of a whole life dies
when love is done

gemma...

A thing of beauty is a joy forever,
its loveliness increases;it will never,
pass into nothingness;but still will keep,
a bower quiet for us, and a sleep,
full of sweet dreams,
and health, and quiet breathing,
therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing,
a flowery band to bind us to earth,
spite of despondence, of the inhuman death,
of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
of all the unhealthy and o'er darkened ways,
made for our searching yes in spite of all
some shape of beauty moves away the pall
from our dark spirits.

im on a roll now

more?!...

gemma: no problem... you can post as many as you like...

it seems that this idea of making a kinda collective entry from this thread might happen sooner than later..