Just wondered if anyone had any favourite poems to share. I appreciate this is a music site, but much great music originates in text or accompanies it (eg "Ode to Joy", "The Trout", the Ordinary Mass, Opera); Kodaly reckoned the rhythmns of a country's folk music were determined by the rhythmns of their language (*subsequent edit - I've a feeling that was Bartok not Kodaly, but I can't now find the reference*). Two of my favourite poems (below) have coincidentally been set to music (the first by Schumann and the second by Benjamin Britten), although I have never heard it.
Green rushes with red shoots
Long leaves bending to the wind
You and I in the same boat
Plucking rushes at the Five Lakes.
We started at dawn from the Orchid Island
We rested under the elms till noon
You and I plucking rushes
Had not picked a handful when night came
from "101 chinese poems" translated by Arthur Waley
Move him into the sun
Gently its touch awoke him once
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might wake him now
The kind old sun will know
Wilfred Owen (first world war poet)
Full Version: Favourite Short Poems
Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer
utters itself. So a woman will lift
her head from the sieve of her hands and stare
at the minims sung by a tree, a sudden gift.
Some nights, although we are faithless, the truth
enters our hearts, that small familiar pain;
then a man will stand stock-still, hearing his youth
in the distant Latin chanting of a train.
Pray for us now. Grade 1 piano scales
console the lodger looking out across
a Midlands town. Then dusk, and someone calls
a child's name as though they named their loss.
Darkness outside. Inside, the radio's prayer -
Rockall. Malin. Dogger. Finisterre.
(Carol Ann Duffy)
utters itself. So a woman will lift
her head from the sieve of her hands and stare
at the minims sung by a tree, a sudden gift.
Some nights, although we are faithless, the truth
enters our hearts, that small familiar pain;
then a man will stand stock-still, hearing his youth
in the distant Latin chanting of a train.
Pray for us now. Grade 1 piano scales
console the lodger looking out across
a Midlands town. Then dusk, and someone calls
a child's name as though they named their loss.
Darkness outside. Inside, the radio's prayer -
Rockall. Malin. Dogger. Finisterre.
(Carol Ann Duffy)
I remember studying that one in GCSE English
On a similar note I am desperately looking for some good contemporary poetry that I can set to music. In particular I am looking for ones associated with nature, but without being too romantic and backwards-looking.
I originally had ideas to set some of Emily Dickinson's poems, but she's more of an American cultural icon that Copland and John Adams have already chosen. Looking at other English modern poets such as Simon Armitage I found his poems to be concerned with vulgarity of common society - Interesting, but not what I'm looking for
Any help would be *very* much appreciated
On a similar note I am desperately looking for some good contemporary poetry that I can set to music. In particular I am looking for ones associated with nature, but without being too romantic and backwards-looking.
I originally had ideas to set some of Emily Dickinson's poems, but she's more of an American cultural icon that Copland and John Adams have already chosen. Looking at other English modern poets such as Simon Armitage I found his poems to be concerned with vulgarity of common society - Interesting, but not what I'm looking for
Any help would be *very* much appreciated
I love "The Walrus and the Carpenter" by Lewis Carroll 
Beautiful poem MaggieMay! I had never heard of Carol Ann Duffy, despite the fact that a google search tells me she is Britain's leading female poet.
nice one, July!
JStark - how about something from the Iron Book of British Haiku - that's very nature orientated and quite contemporary. Unfortunately I can't quote to you from it since I donated my copy to my doctor's surgery waiting room where it lasted two days before it was nicked (no wonder the reading selection consists of five issues of "carpet monthly").
nice one, July!
JStark - how about something from the Iron Book of British Haiku - that's very nature orientated and quite contemporary. Unfortunately I can't quote to you from it since I donated my copy to my doctor's surgery waiting room where it lasted two days before it was nicked (no wonder the reading selection consists of five issues of "carpet monthly").
Lovely lovely poem, Maggie.. thanks for sharing. I once heard Carol Ann Duffy read her own poetry at an A Level English Lit thing in London 
though we didn't actually study her in my class.
One of my favourite poets is R S Thomas
There are nights that are so still
that I can hear the small owl calling
far off and a fox barking
miles away. It is then that I lie
in the lean hours awake listening
to the swell born somewhere in the Atlantic
rising and falling, rising and falling
wave on wave on the long shore
by the village that is without light
and companionless. And the thought comes
of that other being who is awake, too,
letting our prayers break on him,
not like this for a few hours,
but for days, years, for eternity.
though we didn't actually study her in my class. One of my favourite poets is R S Thomas
There are nights that are so still
that I can hear the small owl calling
far off and a fox barking
miles away. It is then that I lie
in the lean hours awake listening
to the swell born somewhere in the Atlantic
rising and falling, rising and falling
wave on wave on the long shore
by the village that is without light
and companionless. And the thought comes
of that other being who is awake, too,
letting our prayers break on him,
not like this for a few hours,
but for days, years, for eternity.
So pleased that Carol Ann Duffy went down well.
But maybe not so much if you studied it for GCSE ? sorry!
although I still like the Mastersingers' overture, despite that having identical connotations for me.
I had also wondered about Haiku - and I have a couple of books somewhere, possibly the one you mentioned so will look them out.
Maggie
But maybe not so much if you studied it for GCSE ? sorry!
although I still like the Mastersingers' overture, despite that having identical connotations for me.
| QUOTE |
| JStark - how about something from the Iron Book of British Haiku |
I had also wondered about Haiku - and I have a couple of books somewhere, possibly the one you mentioned so will look them out.
Maggie
On further reflection I don't know how easy it would be to successfully set Haiku to music. I suppose you would have to be quite creative in finding a way not to overburden something whose very simplicity is its beauty.
Lovely poem, SarahFlute. There is a thing called a "little owl" isn't there? I suppose you could have a small little owl or a big little owl.
Lovely poem, SarahFlute. There is a thing called a "little owl" isn't there? I suppose you could have a small little owl or a big little owl.
yes - I think it needs to be simple and perhaps rather transparent - anyway here's one from the Iron book of Haiku to start with ...
growing through
the skeleton leaf
a new year's grasses
M
(it's by Susan Rowley)
growing through
the skeleton leaf
a new year's grasses
M
(it's by Susan Rowley)
| QUOTE (zoda @ Jan 19 2005, 04:29 PM) |
| Lovely poem, SarahFlute |
there's another one of his I love, i'll try and look it out... trying to remember enough so that I will be able to find it on google!
| QUOTE (maggiemay @ Jan 19 2005, 04:31 PM) |
growing through the skeleton leaf a new year's grasses |
*waaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh*
I miss my Iron Book of British Haiku
sorry this is not really short but it's good although sad:
Mid-term break
I sat all morning in the college sick bay
counting bells knelling to a close.
At two o'clock our neighbours drove me home.
In the porch I met my father crying-
he had always taken funerals in his stride-
and Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.
The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
when I came in , and I was embarassed
by old men standing up to shake my hand
and tell me they were 'sorry for my trouble',
whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
away at school, as my mother held my hand
in hers and coughed angry, tearless sighs.
At ten o' clock the ambulance arrived
with the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.
Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
and candles soothed the bedside; I saw him
for the first time in six weeks. Paler now,
wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple,
he lay in the four foot box in his cot,
no gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.
A four foot box, a foot for every year.
Seamus Heaney
Mid-term break
I sat all morning in the college sick bay
counting bells knelling to a close.
At two o'clock our neighbours drove me home.
In the porch I met my father crying-
he had always taken funerals in his stride-
and Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.
The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
when I came in , and I was embarassed
by old men standing up to shake my hand
and tell me they were 'sorry for my trouble',
whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
away at school, as my mother held my hand
in hers and coughed angry, tearless sighs.
At ten o' clock the ambulance arrived
with the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.
Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
and candles soothed the bedside; I saw him
for the first time in six weeks. Paler now,
wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple,
he lay in the four foot box in his cot,
no gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.
A four foot box, a foot for every year.
Seamus Heaney
that's beautiful, though very sad. Love Seamus Heaney.
| QUOTE (Keys @ Jan 19 2005, 05:40 PM) |
| sorry this is not really short but it's good although sad: Mid-term break I sat all morning in the college sick bay counting bells knelling to a close. At two o'clock our neighbours drove me home. In the porch I met my father crying- he had always taken funerals in his stride- and Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow. The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram when I came in , and I was embarassed by old men standing up to shake my hand and tell me they were 'sorry for my trouble', whispers informed strangers I was the eldest, away at school, as my mother held my hand in hers and coughed angry, tearless sighs. At ten o' clock the ambulance arrived with the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses. Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops and candles soothed the bedside; I saw him for the first time in six weeks. Paler now, wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple, he lay in the four foot box in his cot, no gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear. A four foot box, a foot for every year. Seamus Heaney |
Thats so sad.... There was one poem I really like, unfortunately, I can't remember the name of it, or the author.
| QUOTE (zoda @ Jan 19 2005, 03:03 PM) |
| Beautiful poem MaggieMay! I had never heard of Carol Ann Duffy, despite the fact that a google search tells me she is Britain's leading female poet. |
I had to study Carol Ann Duffy for GCSE. There was one poem which was a tad warped, but I can't remember it!
if you can remember a phrase or line of it, put it into google with quote marks - you may find it that way!
| QUOTE (Subatomic_Star @ Jan 19 2005, 05:55 PM) |
| There was one poem I really like, unfortunately, I can't remember the name of it, or the author. |
lol!
happens too often
Oooh oooh oooh yeah, I also love "The Night Before Christmas". That is a poem, right? 
I like this one by Ted Hughes:
Full Moon and Little Frieda
A cool small evening shrunk to a dog bark and the clank of a bucket --
And you listening.
A spider's web, tense for the dew's touch.
A pail lifted, still and brimming -- mirror
To tempt a first star to a tremor.
Cows are going home in the lane there, looping the hedges with their warm
wreaths of breath --
A dark river of blood, many boulders,
Balancing unspilled milk.
'Moon!' you cry suddenly, 'Moon! Moon!'
The moon has stepped back like an artist gazing amazed at a work
That points at him amazed.
I don't know of a musical setting of it though.
Full Moon and Little Frieda
A cool small evening shrunk to a dog bark and the clank of a bucket --
And you listening.
A spider's web, tense for the dew's touch.
A pail lifted, still and brimming -- mirror
To tempt a first star to a tremor.
Cows are going home in the lane there, looping the hedges with their warm
wreaths of breath --
A dark river of blood, many boulders,
Balancing unspilled milk.
'Moon!' you cry suddenly, 'Moon! Moon!'
The moon has stepped back like an artist gazing amazed at a work
That points at him amazed.
I don't know of a musical setting of it though.
That's a really beautiful poem! Ted Hughes is great with nature poetry.
Now for a clever one:
Opera
Throw all your stagey chandeliers in wheelbarrows and move them north
to celebrate my mother's sewing machine
and her beneath an eighty-watt bulb, pedalling
lambs on an antique metal footplate
powering the needle through regular lines,
doing her work. To me as a young boy
that was her typewriter, I'd watch
her hands and feet in unison, or read
between her calves the wrought-iron letters:
SINGER. Mass produced polished wood and metal.
it was a powerful instrument. I stared
hard at its brilliant needle's eye that purred
and shone at night; and then each morning after
I went to work at school, wearing her songs.
Robert Crawford
Now for a clever one:
Opera
Throw all your stagey chandeliers in wheelbarrows and move them north
to celebrate my mother's sewing machine
and her beneath an eighty-watt bulb, pedalling
lambs on an antique metal footplate
powering the needle through regular lines,
doing her work. To me as a young boy
that was her typewriter, I'd watch
her hands and feet in unison, or read
between her calves the wrought-iron letters:
SINGER. Mass produced polished wood and metal.
it was a powerful instrument. I stared
hard at its brilliant needle's eye that purred
and shone at night; and then each morning after
I went to work at school, wearing her songs.
Robert Crawford
| QUOTE (cecilia @ Jan 19 2005, 08:22 PM) |
| I don't know of a musical setting of it though. |
write one
yeah we did some Ted Hughes nature poetry at school... maybe in 6th form. Some good stuff.I like that OPERA one too!
another musical one:
The Musician
A memory of Kreisler once:
At some recital in this same city,
The seats all taken, I found myself pushed
On to the stage with a few others,
So near that I could see the toil
Of his face muscles, a pulse like a moth
Fluttering under the fine skin,
And the indelible veins of his smooth brow.
I could see, too, the twitching of the fingers,
Caught temporarily in art's neurosis,
As we sat there or warmly applauded
This player who so beautifully suffered
For each of us upon his instrument.
So it must have been on Calvary
In the fiercer light of the thorns' halo:
The men standing by and that one figure,
The hands bleeding, the mind bruised but calm,
Making such music as lives still.
And no one daring to interrupt
Because it was himself that he played
And closer than all of them the God listened.
R.S. Thomas
Wow, that is an amazing poem.
yeah it was in the anthology we had for lit crit at A Level and it just blows me away.
Thanks zoda for your suggestion. I'll check those out
Setting Haikus to music would be quite interesting. I think the only way to give justice to its form and simplicity is to create something very short and aphoristic like a piece of Webern
or I could go for a polyphonic choral effect like Steve Reich did in Proverb
The Ted Hughes one that cecilia posted seems quite a good one too
Setting Haikus to music would be quite interesting. I think the only way to give justice to its form and simplicity is to create something very short and aphoristic like a piece of Webern
or I could go for a polyphonic choral effect like Steve Reich did in Proverb
The Ted Hughes one that cecilia posted seems quite a good one too
Great idea for a thread, and thanks to Zoda who suggested it.
Some really lovely poetry.
Sarah, particularly like your R S Thomas - hadn't come across him before.
Maggie
Some really lovely poetry.
Sarah, particularly like your R S Thomas - hadn't come across him before.
Maggie
I like this one:
There once was a fellow called Stan
Whose poems never did scan
When asked why
This he replied:
"It's because I always try to fit as many words into the last line as I possibly can."
But for some truly wonderful poetry, check out the Holly Williams thread.
There once was a fellow called Stan
Whose poems never did scan
When asked why
This he replied:
"It's because I always try to fit as many words into the last line as I possibly can."
But for some truly wonderful poetry, check out the Holly Williams thread.
Wow - some beautiful poems
I have always loved Eeyore's farewell to Christopher Robin, at the end of the House at Pooh Corner. I'm not sure how well it would set to music - and it's not in the league of the others posted so far - anyway here it is...
Christopher Robin is going.
At least I think he is.
Where?
Nobody knows.
But he is going -
(I mean he goes
(To rhyme with "knows")
Do we care?
(To rhyme with "where")
We do
Very much.
(I haven't got a rhyme for that "is" in the second line yet.
Bother)
(Now I haven't got a rhyme for bother. Bother.)
Those two bothers will have to rhyme with each other.
Buther.
The fact is this is more dificult than I thought,
I ought -
( very good indeed )
I ought
To begin again,
But it is easier
To stop.
Christopher Robin, good-bye,
I
(good)
I
and all your friends
Sends
I mean all your friend
send -
(very awkward this, it keeps going wrong.)
Well anyhow, we send our love
END
Christopher Robin is going.
At least I think he is.
Where?
Nobody knows.
But he is going -
(I mean he goes
(To rhyme with "knows")
Do we care?
(To rhyme with "where")
We do
Very much.
(I haven't got a rhyme for that "is" in the second line yet.
Bother)
(Now I haven't got a rhyme for bother. Bother.)
Those two bothers will have to rhyme with each other.
Buther.
The fact is this is more dificult than I thought,
I ought -
( very good indeed )
I ought
To begin again,
But it is easier
To stop.
Christopher Robin, good-bye,
I
(good)
I
and all your friends
Sends
I mean all your friend
send -
(very awkward this, it keeps going wrong.)
Well anyhow, we send our love
END
Maggie, that's just lovely! especially, "Well, anyhow, we send our love."
especially, "Well, anyhow, we send our love."
I like so many, but this one by WB Yeats is especially wonderful set to music by Thomas Dunhill & sung by Janet Baker, don't know if you've heard it...
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
The Sunlight on the Garden is another good one, by Louise MacNeice, and I saw this bit of verse 3 once quoted in a Guardian obituary:
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden
I'm also a fan of RS Thomas, Sarah, & like the one by Carol Ann Duffy, Maggie (haven't read her before)
Jen
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
The Sunlight on the Garden is another good one, by Louise MacNeice, and I saw this bit of verse 3 once quoted in a Guardian obituary:
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden
I'm also a fan of RS Thomas, Sarah, & like the one by Carol Ann Duffy, Maggie (haven't read her before)
Jen
Awww Jen... I've gone all sappy now! lovely... just lovely.
Glad to know I'm not the only R S Thomas fan - waaaaaaaaaaay to many people just say "Uh, who?"
I'm not sure who wrote this; I've seen it credited as an unknown soldier... I like it, hope you will!
I asked God for strength, that I might achieve;
I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.
I asked for health that I might do great things;
I was given sickness that I might do better things.
I asked for riches, that I might be happy;
I was given poverty, that I might be wise.
I asked for power, that I might have the praise of men;
I was given weakness, that I might feel the need for God.
I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life;
I was given life, that I might enjoy all things.
I received nothing I asked for - but everything I hoped for.
Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayer was answered;
I am, among all men, most richly blessed.
Glad to know I'm not the only R S Thomas fan
- waaaaaaaaaaay to many people just say "Uh, who?" I'm not sure who wrote this; I've seen it credited as an unknown soldier... I like it, hope you will!
I asked God for strength, that I might achieve;
I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.
I asked for health that I might do great things;
I was given sickness that I might do better things.
I asked for riches, that I might be happy;
I was given poverty, that I might be wise.
I asked for power, that I might have the praise of men;
I was given weakness, that I might feel the need for God.
I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life;
I was given life, that I might enjoy all things.
I received nothing I asked for - but everything I hoped for.
Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayer was answered;
I am, among all men, most richly blessed.
this one I found intriguing - although personally I'd settle for the uncool "nice way to go" option:
Let me die a young man's death (Roger McGough)
Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death
When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party
Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides
Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one
Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
"what a nice way to go" death
Let me die a young man's death (Roger McGough)
Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death
When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party
Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides
Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one
Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
"what a nice way to go" death
Thanks, zoda - that's one of my all-time favourite poems (I just adore Roger McGough - you really have to hear him speak it in his Liverpudlian accent!) and I haven't read it for ages.
Wonderful...
Wonderful...
*edited post - I was going to cram another one in, but given Cyrilla's nice comments, I think I'll give that first poem a bit more space.*
One of my favourites is:
The fields are full with summer still
and breathe again upon the air
from brown dryside of hedge and hill
more sweetness than the sense can bear
So some old couple who in youth
with love were filled and overfull
and loved with strength and loved with truth
in heavy age are beautiful.
Words by Edwin Shank
For any interested singers, there is a beautiful setting of this by Armstrong Gibbs. I think Gurney did a version too, but I don't know that one.
The fields are full with summer still
and breathe again upon the air
from brown dryside of hedge and hill
more sweetness than the sense can bear
So some old couple who in youth
with love were filled and overfull
and loved with strength and loved with truth
in heavy age are beautiful.
Words by Edwin Shank
For any interested singers, there is a beautiful setting of this by Armstrong Gibbs. I think Gurney did a version too, but I don't know that one.
I love the poem:
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
Very beautiful - I hope they read that at my funeral!
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
Very beautiful - I hope they read that at my funeral!
That's a lovely one Andy. Friend's funeral last Saturday: "do not stand at my grave and weep" is easier said than done. It's still a lovely poem though.
beautiful poems both, thouston and Andy-piano-flute. Thank you for sharing them.
I'm sorry to hear about your friend Sarah-flute.
I'm sorry to hear about your friend Sarah-flute.
Really sorry to hear about your friend Sarah-flute - thinking of you.
So sorry to hear about your friend Sarah.
Maggie
Maggie
| QUOTE (Subatomic_Star @ Jan 19 2005, 05:57 PM) |
| I had to study Carol Ann Duffy for GCSE. There was one poem which was a tad warped, but I can't remember it! |
Ive just done Carol Ann Duffy for GCSE. If i ever see 'Education for leisure' or Havisham again..........
Here's another one that I found on the same website as the Roger McGough one:
Talking Turkeys - Benjamin Zephaniah
Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas
Cos' turkeys just wanna hav fun
Turkeys are cool, turkeys are wicked
An every turkey has a Mum.
Be nice to you turkeys dis christmas,
Don't eat it, keep it alive,
It could be yu mate, an not on your plate
Say, Yo! Turkey I'm on your side.
I got lots of friends who are turkeys
An all of dem fear christmas time,
Dey wanna enjoy it, dey say humans destroyed it
An humans are out of dere mind,
Yeah, I got lots of friends who are turkeys,
Dey all hav a right to a life,
Not to be caged up an genetically made up
By any farmer an his wife.
Turkeys just wanna play reggae
Turkeys just wanna hip-hop
Can yu imagine a nice young turkey saying,
"I cannot wait for de chop",
Turkeys like getting presents, dey
wanna watch christmas TV,
Turkeys hav brains an turkeys feel pain
In many ways like yu and me.
I once knew a turkey called..... Turkey
He said "Benji explain to me please,
Who put de turkey in christmas
An what happens to christmas trees?"
I said "I am not too sure turkey
But itOs nothing to do wid Christ Mass
Humans get greedy and waste more dan need be
An business men mek loadsa cash
Be nice to yu turkey dis christmas
Invite dem indoors fe sum greens
Let dem eat cake an let dem partake
In a plate of organic grown beans,
Be nice to yu turkey dis christmas
An spare dem de cut of de knife,
Join Turkeys United and dey'll be delighted
An yu will mek new friends "FOR LIFE".
Talking Turkeys - Benjamin Zephaniah
Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas
Cos' turkeys just wanna hav fun
Turkeys are cool, turkeys are wicked
An every turkey has a Mum.
Be nice to you turkeys dis christmas,
Don't eat it, keep it alive,
It could be yu mate, an not on your plate
Say, Yo! Turkey I'm on your side.
I got lots of friends who are turkeys
An all of dem fear christmas time,
Dey wanna enjoy it, dey say humans destroyed it
An humans are out of dere mind,
Yeah, I got lots of friends who are turkeys,
Dey all hav a right to a life,
Not to be caged up an genetically made up
By any farmer an his wife.
Turkeys just wanna play reggae
Turkeys just wanna hip-hop
Can yu imagine a nice young turkey saying,
"I cannot wait for de chop",
Turkeys like getting presents, dey
wanna watch christmas TV,
Turkeys hav brains an turkeys feel pain
In many ways like yu and me.
I once knew a turkey called..... Turkey
He said "Benji explain to me please,
Who put de turkey in christmas
An what happens to christmas trees?"
I said "I am not too sure turkey
But itOs nothing to do wid Christ Mass
Humans get greedy and waste more dan need be
An business men mek loadsa cash
Be nice to yu turkey dis christmas
Invite dem indoors fe sum greens
Let dem eat cake an let dem partake
In a plate of organic grown beans,
Be nice to yu turkey dis christmas
An spare dem de cut of de knife,
Join Turkeys United and dey'll be delighted
An yu will mek new friends "FOR LIFE".
Thanks for the poem Andy-piano-flute! It was read at my grannie's funeral 3 and a half years ago and I've never heard it since.
| QUOTE (Saxophonist @ Apr 22 2005, 11:21 PM) | ||
Ive just done Carol Ann Duffy for GCSE. If i ever see 'Education for leisure' or Havisham again.......... |
I am doign those poems recently. I am fed up of drawing these landscape things to show the meaning of the poems...
aw yeh i love that one andy
a lot of my friends have studied mid-term break for gcse coursework
a lot of my friends have studied mid-term break for gcse coursework
| QUOTE (fluteandbassoon @ Apr 23 2005, 05:28 PM) | ||||
I am doign those poems recently. I am fed up of drawing these landscape things to show the meaning of the poems... |
Landscapes?? I think the poems are quite cool....we have an English Lit. year 10 exam next week, and we have to compare 3 poems from the anthology....one Carol Ann Duffy, one Simon Armitage, and one Pre-1914....I like the song of the old mother - the first line made my class giggle... hehe:
Oops don't have my Anthology, but perhaps someone could enlighten us??
we did Simon Armitage for GCSE adn i had to answer a question on Carol Ann Duffy at AS
Kipling's If, or anything by Eliot. Not that "Short" really works for the best of Eliot's stuff!
One of my favourites, already set to music of course, is Bertolt Brecht's song (don't recall who translated it into Enlgish, sorry).
Remembering Marie A.
It was a day in that blue month, September
Silent beneath a plum tree's slender shade.
I held her there, my love so pale and silent,
As if she were a dream that must not fade.
Above us in the shining summer heaven
There was a cloud my eyes dwelt long upon.
It was quite white and very high above us
Then I looked up, and found that it had gone.
And since that day so many moons, in silence
Have swum across the sky and gone below.
The plum trees surely have been chopped for firewood
And if you ask, how does that love seem now?
I must admit: I really can't remember
And yet I know what you are trying to say.
But what her face was like I know no longer
I only know: I kissed it on that day.
As for the kiss, I'd long ago forgot it
But for the cloud that floated in the sky.
I know that still, and shall for ever know it
It was quite white and moving very high.
It may be that the plum trees sitll are blooming,
And yet that cloud had only bloomed for minutes,
When I looked up, it vanished on the air.
Remembering Marie A.
It was a day in that blue month, September
Silent beneath a plum tree's slender shade.
I held her there, my love so pale and silent,
As if she were a dream that must not fade.
Above us in the shining summer heaven
There was a cloud my eyes dwelt long upon.
It was quite white and very high above us
Then I looked up, and found that it had gone.
And since that day so many moons, in silence
Have swum across the sky and gone below.
The plum trees surely have been chopped for firewood
And if you ask, how does that love seem now?
I must admit: I really can't remember
And yet I know what you are trying to say.
But what her face was like I know no longer
I only know: I kissed it on that day.
As for the kiss, I'd long ago forgot it
But for the cloud that floated in the sky.
I know that still, and shall for ever know it
It was quite white and moving very high.
It may be that the plum trees sitll are blooming,
And yet that cloud had only bloomed for minutes,
When I looked up, it vanished on the air.
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