Hi, Girls,

Poetry can be Romantic, Inspiring, Pastoral, Humorous, Sad ............................ you name it, there's poetry out there to fit that mood.

So, I'm sure, at some time, you've come across a poem that perfectly fitted your emotions, or there's a particular poem that, for some reason, you hold in your heart, as a favourite.
If so, why not post it here, so that we can all take some inspiration from it, as you have.

To sum up what poetry is, I recently came across this little piece by Edmund Vance Cooke (1866-1932), a Canadian poet.

Poetry ..................

To deftly do what many dimly think:
To fund a feeling for the world to borrow:
To turn a tear to printer's ink:
To make a sonnet of a sorrow.

So, let's hear about verse that has given you some "lift", or summed up the emotions you feel.

Hugs,
Angela. xx.

Hi Angela
I dont know if sad poems are what you want but here are a few I made myself . Im a softy at heart

Bernie

From the heart

On one cold wet and windy day
The angels took my love away
Now every night I sit and stare
At the night skies shimmering glare
How I wonder if you’re up above
Still think of me your first true love.

Please forgive my sorry stare
But my darling I miss u dear
I know one day well meet again
But why does my heart still the feel pain

Oh dear lord upon on high
Please hear me when I cry
Please protect the one I love
Till we meet again above


A Rose

I gave you a rose but once a year
To show how much I loved you dear
Now you left and went away
My heart sinks lower every day


War

A shout goes up
I hear them sigh
I hear a mother weep and cry
Her son was lost on this wet day
Lying dying in the clay

No one said war was fun
No one smiled when we had won
A thousand souls took away
One cold and wet November’s day

This poem, "The Greening of the Trees (remembering 9/11)", was written by Sandra Saer.

In her own words ..................
"It reflects the misery and loss felt on both sides of the Atlantic, and, indeed, much further afield, but also the deep, universal need to look forward with hope, however difficult that may be".

The Greening of the Trees (remembering 9/11).
By Sandra Saer.

Perched on a rounded thicket just outside,
Two little birds arrive,
Making the thin branches
Bend and tremble with their weight.
One nears the other, and the other wavers,
then, coyly, darts to another branch.
The suitor follows, not to be put off.
(Birds know their customs; know their ladyfolk),
And soon, the two are hunched together
just as one, lurching on a slim twig
that barely holds their longing.

This is spring.
We are remembering
the miseries of terrorism, war and death.
And yet, spring's gilded breath
heartens the world, unbidden.
Plants peer out; swoop out
from a warming earth.

Two birds sing, make love,
and reassure
those who have lost sight of
all such joys,
and the delightful noise of love,
that many of us have known,
just like these.

So we wait, in hope,
for the greening of the trees.


Hugs,
Angela. xx.

Dannique.
that song is by Rush fom the album HEMISPHERES. entiled Trees.


ok one of my own.

Where .?

Where is the one for me ?
Do I pass you in the street unseen ?
Are you in the next carrige on this train?
When I walk do you run ?

Do we live in different towns ?
Have I seen you every day ?
When I play my role in this,lifes play
will I remember the lines to say ?

If I hitched to a festival or walked by foot.  
Would it be you who would hoot but not
stop ?
All these Islands fixed yet free
Will an Island bump into me ?


Life is so much like a tree
All the bifurcating branches reaching for
the sky
Yet some are hidden and know no fruits
Whilst others just seem to abound with
the horn of plenty some way of the .
ground


My feet rest in the earth my head in the
clouds
perhaps this is why I cannot see when
you come round
to call on my door.If it is just,call me
again I'll lower my
head and unearth my feet just so
we can meet.

Sarah A Slavin 1980

I was shocked, confused, bewildered
As I entered Heaven's door,
Not by the beauty of it all,
Nor the lights or its decor.

But it was the folks in Heaven
Who made me sputter and gasp--
The thieves, the liars, the sinners,
The alcoholics and the trash.

There stood the kid from seventh grade
Who swiped my lunch money twice.
Next to him was my old neighbor
Who never said anything nice.

Bob, who I always thought
Was rotting away in hell,
Was sitting pretty on cloud nine,
Looking incredibly well.

I nudged Jesus, 'What's the deal?
I would love to hear Your take.
How'd all these sinners get up here?
God must've made a mistake.

And why's everyone so quiet,
So somber - give me a clue.'
'Hush, child,' He said, 'they're all in shock.
No one thought they'd be seeing you.'

JUDGE NOT.

It's not poetry but it's moving all the same.

Paschendale

In a foreign field he lay
lonely soldier unknown grave
on his dying words he prays
tell the world of Paschendale

Relive all that he's been through
last communion of his soul
rust your bullets with his tears
let me tell you 'bout his years

Laying low in a blood filled trench
killing time 'til my very own death
on my face I can feel the falling rain
never see my friends again
in the smoke, in the mud and lead
smell of fear and feeling of dread
soon be time to go over the wall
rapid fire and the end of us all

Whistles, shouts and more gun fire
lifeless bodies hang on barbwire
battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
be reunited with my dead friends soon
many soldiers eighteen years
drown in mud, no more tears
surely a war no one can win
killing time about to begin

Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again

The bodies of ours and our foes
the sea of death it overflows
in no man's land God only knows
into jaws of death we go...

Crucified as if on a cross
allied troops, they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
such before has never been seen
swear I heard the angels cry
pray to God no more may die
so that people know the truth
tell the tale of Paschendale

Cruelty has a human heart
everyman does play his part
terror of the men we kill
the human heart is hungry still

I stand my ground for the very last time
gun is ready as I stand in line
nervous wait for the whistle to blow
rush of blood and over we go...

Blood is falling like the rain
its crimson cloak unveils again
the sound of guns can't hide their shame
and so we die in Paschendale

Dodging shrapnel and barbwire
running straight at cannon fire
running blind as I hold my breath
say a prayer symphony of death
as we charge the enemy lines
a burst of fire and we go down
I choke a cry but no one hears
feel the blood go down my throat

Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again

See my spirit on the wind
across the lines beyond the hill
friend and foe will meet again
those who died at Paschendale