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		Funny how you can hear of a person all your life and never take the time to investigate. Strange-looking bird. ![[Image: 250px-Kipling1926.jpg]](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/b9/Kipling1926.jpg/250px-Kipling1926.jpg)  
From the poem I'd have guessed he was a military man, knowing about duty and coming up through the ranks. But his wiki-biography shows none of that. If this was published in 1896? he must have written it while he was living in the States. I'm wondering if the speech and attitude are genuine or made-up.
	
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		 (03-02-2010, 01:49 AM)altezon Wrote:  Funny how you can hear of a person all your life and never take the time to investigate. Strange-looking bird.
 ![[Image: 250px-Kipling1926.jpg]](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/b9/Kipling1926.jpg/250px-Kipling1926.jpg) 
 From the poem I'd have guessed he was a military man, knowing about duty and coming up through the ranks. But his wiki-biography shows none of that. If this was published in 1896? he must have written it while he was living in the States. I'm wondering if the speech and attitude are genuine or made-up.
 
he was for a long time an editor of the military gazette in bombay i think,. so he could have been close to lots of english soldiers who were based there during the british occupation. one of his novels; the man who wold be king was about two army sergeants who visited him at the newspaper office to tell their story. but yes, good writers have the ability to make us think they're part of what they write about.
	 
		
	 
	
	
			frenkelwilliams1234 Unregistered
 
 
		
 
	 
	
	
		I love to make my own poems and they are my favorites. I make poems in different languages. I made poetries about person's identity, use of garbage, old sweater, wave of water. foam of soap and etc. When once i have been to India i saw a very different thing called "PAYAL".I made a poem on  "PAYAL". That is my favorite poem!
	 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		hi frenkelwilliams 1234 soon to be know as fb. post some of your poetry in the poetry sections.
 we have a no comments section a mild feedback section and a section that
 give the poem a real work out as such .
 sadly a poem written in any other language than english would be incomprehensible
 to most of us.
 looking forward to reading some of your poetry
 
		
	 
	
	
		Quote:Kidspoem/Bairnsang
 
 it wis January
 and a gey dreich day
 the first day Ah went to the school
 so my Mum happed me up in ma
 good navy-blue napp coat wi the rid tartan hood
 birled a scarf aroon ma neck
 pu'ed oan ma pixie an' my pawkies
 it wis that bitter
 said
 "noo ye'll no starve"
 gie'd me a wee kiss and a kid-oan skelp oan the bum
 and sent me aff across the playground
 tae the place A'd learn to say
 it was January
 and a really dismal day
 the first day I went to school
 so my mother wrapped me up in my
 best navy-blue top coat with the red tartan hood,
 twirled a scarf around my neck,
 pulled on my bobble-hat and mittens
 it was so bitterly cold
 said
 "now you won't freeze to death"
 gave me a little kiss and a pretend slap on the bottom
 and sent me off across the playground
 to the place I'd learn to forget to say
 "it wis January
 and a gey driech day
 the first day Ah went to the school
 so my Mum happed me up in ma
 good navy-blue napp coat wi the rid tartan hood,
 birled a scarf aroon ma neck,
 pu'ed oan ma pixie and' ma pawkies
 it wis that bitter."
 
 Oh saying it was one thing
 But when it came to writing it
 In black and white
 The way it had to be said
 Was as if you were posh, grown-up, male, English and dead.
 
 Written by Liz Lochhead
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		 (05-12-2010, 10:01 PM)SidewaysDan Wrote:  Quote:Kidspoem/Bairnsang
 
 it wis January
 and a gey dreich day
 the first day Ah went to the school
 so my Mum happed me up in ma
 good navy-blue napp coat wi the rid tartan hood
 birled a scarf aroon ma neck
 pu'ed oan ma pixie an' my pawkies
 it wis that bitter
 said
 "noo ye'll no starve"
 gie'd me a wee kiss and a kid-oan skelp oan the bum
 and sent me aff across the playground
 tae the place A'd learn to say
 
 it was January
 and a really dismal day
 the first day I went to school
 so my mother wrapped me up in my
 best navy-blue top coat with the red tartan hood,
 twirled a scarf around my neck,
 pulled on my bobble-hat and mittens
 it was so bitterly cold
 said
 "now you won't freeze to death"
 gave me a little kiss and a pretend slap on the bottom
 and sent me off across the playground
 to the place I'd learn to forget to say
 "it wis January
 and a gey driech day
 the first day Ah went to the school
 so my Mum happed me up in ma
 good navy-blue napp coat wi the rid tartan hood,
 birled a scarf aroon ma neck,
 pu'ed oan ma pixie and' ma pawkies
 it wis that bitter."
 
 Oh saying it was one thing
 But when it came to writing it
 In black and white
 The way it had to be said
 Was as if you were posh, grown-up, male, English and dead.
 
 Written by Liz Lochhead
 
i read this yesterday a couple of times and loved it. 
it brings the real feel of Scotland with it. 
i'll be reading it again later.  
thanks for sharing it dan
	 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		a poem dedicated to V/F
 Against Evil Company by Isaac Watts
 
 Why should I join with those in Play,
 In whom I've no delight,
 Who curse and swear, but never pray,
 Who call ill Names, and fight.
 
 I hate to hear a wanton Song,
 Their Words offend my Ears:
 I should not dare defile my Tongue
 With Language such as theirs.
 
 Away from Fools I'll turn my Eyes,
 Nor with the Scoffers go;
 I would be walking with the Wise,
 That wiser I may grow.
 
 From one rude Boy that's us'd to mock
 Ten learn the wicked Jest;
 One sickly Sheep infects the Flock,
 And poysons all the rest.
 
		
	 
	
	
		The wretch, concentred all in self,  
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,  
And, doubly dying, shall go down  
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,  
Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung. 
 
  
...fragment from Canto Sixth of "The Lay of the Last Minstrel" by Sir Walter Scott
http://www.theotherpages.org/poems/minstrel.html
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		i read the poem for the first time. and really enjoyed it. 
it's called
 
Breathes There The Man.
 
nice one    thanks.
	
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		i read some of the first (here) and was in part enthralled.  
will certainly read again and read more of your "heres"
 
and i agree that some lyrics make great poems and some song writers, poets. 
Lou Reed can certainly walk on the wild side while Dylan like the candle, will always blow in and on the wind. 
Donavon has also knocked out an odd poetic via his lyrics as well.   
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		07-01-2010, 07:41 AM 
(This post was last modified: 07-01-2010, 07:45 AM by addy.)
	
	 
		I like this one by e.e. cummings    Btw, this poem has a very specific spacing/format by the author that i can't mimic (some lines should be left-aligned/pushed in while others are normal). Anyone knoe how to do this so i can post the correct layout?   I Will Wade Out 
i will wade out 
                            till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers 
I will take the sun in my mouth 
and leap into the ripe air 
                                       Alive 
                                                 with closed eyes 
to dash against darkness 
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body 
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery 
with chasteness of sea-girls 
                                            Will i complete the mystery 
                                            of my flesh 
I will rise 
               After a thousand years 
lipping 
flowers 
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon
	
PS. If you can, try your hand at giving some of the others a bit of feedback. If you already have, thanks, can you do some more?
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		sorry addy. i had a look up and couldn't find anything apart from adding some code. 
will look into more later. 
 
i'm not a fan of cumming but i do like that one   
		
	 
	
	
		♫ ♫ 
Sometimes I wonder why I spend the lonely nights 
 
dreaming of a song.
  
That melody haunts my reverie, 
 
and I am once again with you --
 
when our love is new 
 
and each kiss an inspiration.
 
But that was long ago, 
 
and now my consolation
 
lies in the stardust of a song.
 
Beside a garden wall where stars shone bright,
 
you were in my arms.
 
A nightengale sang his fairy tale --
 
a paradise where roses bloomed.
 
Though I dream in vain,
 
in my heart there always will remain
 
that stardust melody --
 
a memory of love's refrain.
 
♫ ♫
 
"Stardust" by Hoagy Carmichael
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Em3xyZz_mow
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		i can't remember hearing it before but i like it   
		
	 
	
	
		There was an updated version in the movie "Goodfellas".
	 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		i would have heard that lol.
	 
		
	 
	
	
		Sir, I admit your general rule, 
That every poet is a fool. 
But you yourself may serve to show it, 
Every fool is not a poet.
 
Untitled by Alexander Pope     ![[Image: smile.gif]](http://i485.photobucket.com/albums/rr217/darkside_999/smile.gif) 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		I only recently discovered Sarah. i really enjoy this poem.
 There Will Come Soft Rains By Sara Teasdale.
 
 There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
 And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
 
 And frogs in the pools singing at night,
 And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
 
 Robins will wear their feathery fire,
 Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
 
 And not one will know of the war, not one
 Will care at last when it is done.
 
 Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
 If mankind perished utterly;
 
 And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
 Would scarcely know that we were gone.
 
		
	 
	
	
		 (08-06-2010, 09:19 AM)billy Wrote:  I only recently discovered Sarah. i really enjoy this poem.
 There Will Come Soft Rains By Sara Teasdale.
 
 ***
 Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
 If mankind perished utterly;
 
 And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
 Would scarcely know that we were gone.
 
I gather that Sara herself wouldn't  
have minded if we had all perished.
 
 ![[Image: 1024_1061085493.gif]](http://www.findagrave.com/photos/2003/227/1024_1061085493.gif)  
Quite a gothic girl ... inspired Ray Bradbury  
to write a short story the same name as the poem.   ![[Image: smile.gif]](http://i485.photobucket.com/albums/rr217/darkside_999/smile.gif)  
		
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