Richard Hawley

I was wondering if you ever wrote any poetry Richard. I know a song is a kind of poem really, only with music. But I'm sure you get what I mean.

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The heartbeat doesn't change, only the faces surrounding it.

i have occasionally but i am not a poet at all i can do it in song form but am too thick to get bionic pentameter and all that

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now,then!

Have you ever read either of 'To His Coy Mistress' or 'Eyes & Tears' by Andrew Marvell? Amazing stuff. A lot of the other stuff is complete nonsense to me, but the imagery & use of words in those two is stunning.

And he was from 'Ull !

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Mmmmm

no i haven't had the pleasure

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now,then!

Buit not too thick to remember the proper terms - I've never heard of them!

Here ya go:

To His Coy Mistress

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime
We would sit down and think which way
To walk and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, Lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song: then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapt power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.


EYES & TEARS:

How wisely Nature did decree,
With the same Eyes to weep and see!
That, having view'd the object vain,
They might be ready to complain.

And since the Self-deluding Sight,
In a false Angle takes each hight;
These Tears which better measure all,
Like wat'ry Lines and Plummets fall.

Two Tears, which Sorrow long did weigh
Within the Scales of either Eye,
And then paid out in equal Poise,
Are the true price of all my Joyes.

What in the World most fair appears,
Yea even Laughter, turns to Tears:
And all the Jewels which we prize,
Melt in these Pendants of the Eyes.

I have through every Garden been,
Amongst the Red,the White, the Green;
And yet, from all the flow'rs I saw,
No Hony, but these Tears could draw.

So the all-seeing Sun each day
Distills the World with Chymick Ray;
But finds the Essence only Showers,
Which straight in pity back he powers.

Yet happy they whom Grief doth bless,
That weep the more, and see the less:
And, to preserve their Sight more true,
Bath still their Eyes in their own Dew.

So Magdalen, in Tears more wise
Dissolv'd those captivating Eyes,
Whose liquid Chains could flowing meet
To fetter her Redeemers feet.

Not full sailes hasting loaden home,
Nor the chast Ladies pregnant Womb,
Nor Cynthia Teeming show's so fair,
As two Eyes swoln with weeping are.

The sparkling Glance that shoots Desire,
Drench'd in these Waves, does lose it fire.
Yea oft the Thund'rer pitty takes
And here the hissing Lightning slakes.

The Incense was to Heaven dear,
Not as a Perfume, but a Tear.
And Stars shew lovely in the Night,
But as they seem the Tears of Light.

Ope then mine Eyes your double Sluice,
And practise so your noblest Use.
For others too can see, or sleep;
But only humane Eyes can weep.

Now like two Clouds dissolving, drop,
And at each Tear in distance stop:
Now like two Fountains trickle down:
Now like two floods o'return and drown.

Thus let your Streams o'reflow your Springs,
Till Eyes and Tears be the same things:
And each the other's difference bears;
These weeping Eyes, those seeing Tears.

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Mmmmm

these are the lrics to one mine and my wife's fave songs,we stop and remember when we hear it of other times we shared long ago,its wonderful.it was recorded by Ritchie havens on his debut album"mixed bag"all the album is lovely.it was written by a guy called Jerry merrick

Let the river rock you like a cradle
Climb to the treetops, child, if you're able
Let your hands tie a knot across the table.
Come and touch the things you cannot feel.

And close your fingertips and fly where I can't hold you
Let the sun-rain fall and let the dewy clouds enfold you
And maybe you can sing to me the words I just told you,
If all the things you feel ain't what they seem.
And don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream.

The mocking bird sings each different song
Each song has wings - they won't stay long.
Do those who hear think he's doing wrong?
While the church bell tolls its one-note song
And the school bell is tinkling to the throng.
Come here where your ears cannot hear.

And close your eyes, child, and listen to what I'll tell you
Follow in the darkest night the sounds that may impel you
And the song that I am singing may disturb or serve to quell you
If all the sounds you hear ain't what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream

The rising smell of fresh-cut grass
Smothered cities choke and yell with fuming gas
I hold some grapes up to the sun
And their flavour breaks upon my tongue.
With eager tongues we taste our strife
And fill our lungs with seas of life.
Come taste and smell the waters of our time.

And close your lips, child, so softly I might kiss you,
Let your flower perfume out and let the winds caress you.
As I walk on through the garden, I am hoping I don't miss you
If all the things you taste ain't what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .

The sun and moon both arise
And we'll see them soon through days and nights
But now silver leaves are mirrors, bring delights.
And the colours of your eyes are fiery bright,
While darkness blinds the skies with all its light.
Come see where your eyes cannot see.

And close your eyes, child, and look at what I'll show you;
Let your mind go reeling out and let the breezes blow you,
And maybe when we meet then suddenly I will know you.
If all the things you see ain't
quite what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
And you can follow; And you can follow; follow...

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now,then!

That's lovely..........

and I feel its more optimistic than the first poem...... which I liked in parts....... although I guess perhaps at the time it was written perhaps a touch of gothic was fashionable............

Great words! Richie Havens is brilliant too.

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Mmmmm

I was listening to that track at the weekend - posted the link on the 'songs' thread. I love Richie Havens

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And I listen to you call, I hardly hear you at all
I walk the quiet night, watch the river rolling by

i love that album don't know much else

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now,then!

May I take the liberty to dispute this? Anybody who can write 'I see a rainbow/I don't know where it goes' is a poet indeed. Nuff said (for now...)

And 'too thick' eh? are you eck as like, Boss. The only problem with poetry is that it's taught incredibly badly in schools by people who don't like it or understand it (I shd know- I teach English at secondary level). If poetry were taught as a close relative of music (which it is) people wouldn't feel alienated from it. I teach ballads (poetry) and ballads (song) next to each other, Nick Cave (Lime Tree Arbour) next to Auden (As I Walked Out) & we tap out rhythms, write extra verses etc & the kids come up with some brilliant stuff.

As for Pentameter- it's just a rhythm-de dum de dum de dum de dum de dum. Five beats in a line, five (more or less) off beats.

I hate to see that evenin' sun go down.

Ballad is simply 3 or 4 beats per line ('As I walked out one evening') in a 4 line verse. And anyway, it's always the musical kids in the class who 'get' pentameter/ballad most deeply, because they feel it first & understand by sheer instinct. You can't write poems without that.

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'The art of losing isn't hard to master
So many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster'

Elizabeth Bishop

http://nicholadeane.wordpress.com

Hey Nic, nice to have you back.

Bless you! Still haven't got a bloody avatar though. I'm so crap with all this technology-ever the luddite. Haven't been around because I've been trying to do some writing without spending hours on th'interweb. But I've missed the forum though. Partic when you come back to Andrew Marvell & folk with great taste recommending interesting music I'm (alas) currently too skint to buy (I hate downloads...luddite again. Give me vinyl anyday). Hope all is well boltonlass 2

boltonlass 0.5

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'The art of losing isn't hard to master
So many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster'

Elizabeth Bishop

http://nicholadeane.wordpress.com

cheers mate

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now,then!