The Accidental Unofficial BBO Poetry Corner

[Winstonm]

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.

Emily Dickinson

[Chas_P]

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,

The saddest are these: "It might have been!"

 

John Greenleaf Whittier 1807-1892

 

Read the full poem here.

[y66]

Seamus Heaney's Nobel lecture which he titled "Crediting Poetry" moved me as does practically everything he's written that I've stumbled upon.

[Chas_P]

I think Kenberg will appreciate this. I don't consider it classical poetry, but thought-provoking nonetheless.

 

by Charles Osgood

from the Osgood File, 1986

 

There once was a pretty good student

Who sat in a pretty good class

And was taught by a pretty good teacher

Who always let pretty good pass.

He wasn’t terrific at reading,

He wasn’t a whiz-bang at math,

But for him, education was leading

Straight down a pretty good path.

He didn’t find school too exciting,

But he wanted to do pretty well,

And he did have some trouble with writing

Since nobody taught him to spell.

When doing arithmetic problems,

Pretty good was regarded as fine.

5+5 needn’t always add up to be 10;

A pretty good answer was 9.

The pretty good class that he sat in

Was part of a pretty good school,

And the student was not an exception:

On the contrary, he was the rule.

The pretty good school that he went to

Was there in a pretty good town,

And nobody there seemed to notice

He could not tell a verb from a noun.

The pretty good student in fact was

Part of a pretty good mob.

And the first time he knew what he lacked was

When he looked for a pretty good job.

It was then, when he sought a position,

He discovered that life could be tough,

And he soon had a sneaking suspicion

Pretty good might not be good enough.

The pretty good town in our story

Was part of a pretty good state

Which had pretty good aspirations

And prayed for a pretty good fate.

There once was a pretty good nation

Pretty proud of the greatness it had,

Which learned much too late,

If you want to be great,

Pretty good is, in fact, pretty bad.

[Winstonm]

Posted for the optics.

[Chas_P]

Posted for the optics.

Not really. I just thought Ken might enjoy it since he posts frequently about the value of education.

 

But you are perfectly entitled to your opinion.

[kenberg]

I doubt that I could give a coherent view of what I do or don't like in poetry.

Winston posted "Stopping by the woods", featuring a guy and his horse pausing to contemplate snow, woods, and life. In response, I mentioned Sunflower Sutra featuring two guys sitting near railroad tracks contemplating a sunflower. Maybe there is a common thread there. But I wouldn't push it.

I'm more inclined to give poetry some thought than I once was. I'll leave it at that.

[barmar]

I think Kenberg will appreciate this. I don't consider it classical poetry, but thought-provoking nonetheless.

It's a pretty good poem.

 

And Osgood was a classic.

[Chas_P]

 

And Osgood was a classic.

 

Yes he was. And still vertical. He'll be 89 next month...probably, like many of us, not as peppy as he once was...but still kickin'. I wish him well.

[Chas_P]

In the spirit of the season, a tribute to Walt Kelly:

 

Deck us all with Boston Charlie,

Walla Walla, Wash., an’ Kalamazoo!

Nora’s freezin’ on the trolley,

Swaller dollar cauliflower alley-garoo!

 

Don’t we know archaic barrel

Lullaby Lilla Boy, Louisville Lou?

Trolley Molly don’t love Harold,

Boola boola Pensacoola hullabaloo!

 

Bark us all bow-wows of folly,

Polly wolly cracker ‘n’ too-da-loo!

Donkey Bonny brays a carol,

Antelope Cantaloupe, ‘lope with you!

 

Hunky Dory’s pop is lolly,

Gaggin’ on the wagon, Willy, folly go through!

Chollie’s collie barks at Barrow,

Harum scarum five alarm bung-a-loo!

 

Dunk us all in bowls of barley,

Hinky dinky dink an’ polly voo!

Chilly Filly’s name is Chollie,

Chollie Filly’s jolly chilly view halloo!

 

Bark us all bow-wows of folly,

Double-bubble, toyland trouble! Woof, woof, woof!

Tizzy seas on melon collie!

Dibble-dabble, scribble-scrabble! Goof, goof, goof!

[Chas_P]

In Flanders Fields

John McCrae - 1872-1918

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

 

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

 

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

[Winstonm]

In a Station of

the Metro

Ezra Pound

 

The apparition of these faces in the crowd:

Petals on a wet, black bough.

[Winstonm]

I doubt that I could give a coherent view of what I do or don't like in poetry.

Winston posted "Stopping by the woods", featuring a guy and his horse pausing to contemplate snow, woods, and life. In response, I mentioned Sunflower Sutra featuring two guys sitting near railroad tracks contemplating a sunflower. Maybe there is a common thread there. But I wouldn't push it.

I'm more inclined to give poetry some thought than I once was. I'll leave it at that.

 

Sunflower Sutra is one of my favorite poems but oddly enough I don’t care much about any other Alan Ginsberg poem.

 

I read a book a few weeks back that stated we shouldn’t try to like poetry but poems.

[Winstonm]

I Miss Rush Limbaugh Like I Miss The Clap

 

What is the lasting legacy of

poison poured

everyday?

Are the words chiseled

on the tombstone cherry-picked,

half-truths out of context?

Empty-life, hogging the mike.

shoveling crap into the empty-minded

one stink-filled cigar at a time.