calling all poets

Originally posted by Grayeyesofsorrow
The BBC have a recording of her reading Lady Lazarus :-)

http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/poetry/outloud/index.shtml

I like most poets, but have a preference for the complex/twisted ones. I was going to post some Bienek, but the poem I love has symbols in it :-(

Originally posted by Phlabibit
What format is this in with symbols? I could post it for you on RHP15 if you like.

Or is it a book?

P-

Originally posted by Grayeyesofsorrow
Thanks for the offer but iv only ever seen the poem in a book.

It has only got three symbols so i'll try it anyway, rhp wont let me post spaces at the start of sentences so iv added ____ to the start of some of them to post the poem the way it was wrote.

Horst Bienek

Legend


Once I was a mountain
now I am a river
____ ____ ____ I feel as old as the Euphratese and the Tigris

When you were still with me
____ ____ ____ We evoked the Storms together
and all the fires
____ ____ ____ That Dwelt on earth
____ ____ ____ ____ ___approached us
in the evenings which made
____ ____ our love fragmentary
you were so strange then
spoke only of popes and kings
and asked me puzzled
____ ____ ____ if I too saw the moon
____ ____ ____ ____ Crucified

I was silent
and you drew symbols
in the sand

(Sun) (horns of a cow) (three fingers)

Then the sun reeled above us
____ ____ bled to death at noon
____ ____ ____ and dying sent
____ ____ ____ ____ ____ arrows
into the cities
you wanted to staunch it wounds
____ ____ but its silent shots
____ ____ ____ pierced you tenfold


Then the stone
____ ____ was silent like all stones
tree drew together
forest became forest
____ ____ ____ and I hid
____ ____ _in the shadow
of a hunted deer

Once I was a
____ ____ ____ ____ mountain
now I am a river
I feel as old as if I were
the Euphrates and the Tigris

This is one of my favourites, but I'm afraid I've forgotten who it's by, will try and find author later:

Eating Poetry

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.

The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.

The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.

Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.

I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.

A chess poem from Tartakower, I think - - relates to many games I've played, and perhaps to every cessplayer who's ever lived !!!!

'In tournament or friendly game
A hasty move may mean the same
Your hopes are turned to dark despair
Do see each move is made with care!'

REMEMBER - Christina Rossetti

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day,
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.