Why Not Poetry?

[Faustus]

Salve -

 

This, then, is intended to be a companion topic to the other two:

[spittle]

Do any straight men read poetry?

[Faustus]

Do any straight men read poetry?

 

I for do, for one. Take a look, and tell me your answer.

[Gaius Octavius]

Do any straight men read poetry?

 

When I was one and twenty,

I heard a crooked man say:

Give crowns and pounds and guineas,

But not your heart away.

Give pearls away and rubies,

But keep your fancy free.

But I was one and twenty,

No use to talk to me.

 

Amended version, by yours truly,

Oscar Wilde

[Nephele]

The Law for the Wolves

by Rudyard Kipling

 

Now this is the law of the jungle,

As old and as true as the sky,

And the wolf that shall keep it may prosper,

But the wolf that shall break it must die.

[Nephele]

"My favorite poem is the one that starts 'Thirty days hath September' because it actually tells you something."

-- Groucho Marx

[The Augusta]

Way too numerous to mention....... And I'd be here all night if I were to quote Shelley. Instead, I shall give you a very brief but complete poem that never ceases to amaze me in its use of language and imagery. I think of this poem as the literary equivalent of a sumptuous meal with good wine.

 

 

From the Cavalier Poet Robert Herrick

 

Whenas in silks my Julia goes

Then, then (methinks) how sweetly flows

That liquefaction of her clothes.

 

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see

That brave vibration each way free;

Oh how that glittering taketh me!

 

Try speaking it out loud - it's absolutely gorgeous! At least it is for we word freaks on here.

 

And erm...Spittle... Do straight men read poetry? Well an awful lot of 'em wrote the stuff - LOL. I can't think of anyone 'butcher' than Wordsworth - and he wasn't afraid to write about daffodiils! And could I ask you if you think John Cooper Clark is gay? Do you remember his lovely 'You'll never see a nipple in the Daily Express'?

Edited January 25, 2008 by The Augusta

[Gaius Octavius]

THE FEMALE OF THE SPECIES

Rudyard Kipling - 1911

 

When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,

He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.

But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.

For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

 

When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,

He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can.

But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail.

For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

 

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,

They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws.

'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale.

For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

 

Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,

For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away;

But when hunter meets with husband, each confirms the other's tale -

The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

 

Man, a bear in most relations - worm and savage otherwise -

Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise.

Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact

To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

 

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,

To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.

Mirth obscene diverts his anger - Doubt and Pity oft perplex

Him in dealing with an issue - to the scandal of The Sex!

 

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame

Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same;

And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,

The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

 

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast

May not deal in doubt or pity - must not swerve for fact of jest.

These be purely make diversions - not in these her honour dwells.

She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.

 

She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great

As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate.

And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim

Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

 

She is wedded to convictions - in default of grosser ties;

Her contentions are her children, heaven help him who denies! -

He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild,

Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

 

Unprovoked and awful charges - even so the she-bear fights,

Speech that drips, corrodes, and poisons - even so the cobra bites,

Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw

And the victim writes in anguish - like the Jesuit with the squaw!

 

So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer

With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her

Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands

To some God of Abstract Justice - which no woman understands.

 

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him

Must command but may not govern - shall enthral but not enslave him.

And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail,

That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male.

[Gaius Octavius]

Nursery Rhyme

 

Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross

to see a fine lady upon a white horse;

Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes,

She shall have music wherever she goes.

[Gaius Octavius]

Melody - Seq. by Lesley Nelson

 

 

The sons of the Prophet are brave men and bold

And quite unaccustomed to fear,

But the bravest by far in the ranks of the Shah,

Was Abdul Abulbul Amir.

 

2. If you wanted a man to encourage the van,

Or harass the foe from the rear,

Storm fort or redoubt, you had only to shout

For Abdul Abulbul Amir.

 

3. Now the heroes were plenty and well known to fame

In the troops that were led by the Czar,

And the bravest of these was a man by the name

Of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

 

4. One day this bold Russian, he shouldered his gun

And donned his most truculent sneer,

Downtown he did go where he tred on the toe

Of Abdul Abulbul Amir.

 

5. Young man, quote Abdul, has life grown so dull

That you wish to end your career?

Vile infidel know, you have trod on the toe

Of Abdul Abulbul Amir.

 

6. So take your last look at the sunshine and brook

And send your regrets to the Czar

For by this I imply, you are going to die,

Count Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

 

7. Then this bold Mameluke drew his trusty skibouk,

Singing, "Allah! Il Allah! Al-lah!"

And with murderous intent he ferociously went

For Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

 

8. They parried and thrust, they side-stepped and cussed,

Of blood they spilled a great part;

The philologist blokes, who seldom crack jokes,

Say that hash was first made on the spot.

 

9. They fought all that night neath the pale yellow moon;

The din, it was heard from afar,

And huge multitudes came, so great was the fame,

Of Abdul and Ivan Skavar.

 

10. As Abdul's long knife was extracting the life,

In fact he was shouting, "Huzzah!"

He felt himself struck by that wily Calmuck,

Count Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

 

11. The Sultan drove by in his red-breasted fly,

Expecting the victor to cheer,

But he only drew nigh to hear the last sigh,

Of Abdul Abulbul Amir.

 

12. There's a tomb rises up where the Blue Danube rolls,

And graved there in characters clear,

Is, "Stranger, when passing, oh pray for the soul

Of Abdul Abulbul Amir."

 

13. A splash in the Black Sea one dark moonless night

Caused ripples to spread wide and far,

It was made by a sack fitting close to the back,

Of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

 

14. A Muscovite maiden her lone vigil keeps,

'Neath the light of the cold northern star,

And the name that she murmurs in vain as she weeps,

Is Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

 

----------------------------------------------

To be sung quite loud - especially at drinking parties.

 

Antinouis

Edited January 25, 2008 by Gaius Octavius

[Lost_Warrior]

Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson has been and continues to be my favorite. The last stanza is my absolute favorite piece of poetry ever written:

 

'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

Push off, and sitting well in order smite

The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds

To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths

Of all the western stars, until I die.

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,

And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.

Though much is taken, much abides; and though

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

[Ursus]

The Unknown Lady

By Aleksandr Blok

 

 

 

The restaurants on hot spring evenings

Lie under a dense and savage air.

Foul drafts and hoots from drunken revelers

Contaminate the thoroughfare.

 

 

Above the dusty lanes of suburbia

Above the tedium of bungalows

A pretzel sign begilds a bakery

And children screech fortissimo.

 

 

And every evening beyond the barriers

Gentlemen of practiced wit and charm

Go strolling beside the drainage ditches-

Derby tilted, lady at the arm.

 

The squeak of oarlocks comes over the lake water

A woman

[docoflove1974]

From Alfonsina Storni, an Argentine poetess of the early 20th century...and she had relationship issues.

 

TU ME QUIERES BLANCA

 

T

Edited January 26, 2008 by docoflove1974

[Gaius Octavius]

STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING

Robert Frost

 

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

 

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

 

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

 

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

[Gaius Octavius]

THE TWINS

Henry S. Leigh

 

In form and feature, face and limb,

I grew so like my brother,

That folks got taking me for him,

And each for one another.

It puzzled all our kith and kin,

It reached an awful pitch;

For one of us was born a twin,

Yet not a soul knew which.

 

One day (to make the matter worse),

Before our names were fixed,

As we were being washed by nurse

We got completely mixed;

And thus, you see, by Fate's decree,

(or rather nurse's whim),

My brother John got christened me,

and I got christened him.

 

This fatal likeness even dogged

My footsteps when at school,

And I was always getting flogged,

For John turned out a fool.

I put this question hopelessly

To every one I knew --

What would you do, if you were me,

To prove that you were you?

 

Our close resemblance turned the tide

Of my domestic life;

For somehow my intended bride

Became my brother's wife.

In short, year after year the same

Absurd mistakes went on;

And when I died - the neighbors came

And buried brother John!

 

-----------------------------------------------

With the Compliments of Noel Coward

Edited January 26, 2008 by Gaius Octavius