Da Vinci

ok people i feel like sharing some poetry. so heres a thread we can all enjoy.
rules:
either post comment bout a poem, post an original poem, or a fav poem
NO SPAMMING
NO FLAMING
NO MORONS

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.


He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."


Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.


Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street
Wanders and watches, with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.


Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town
And the moonlight flowing over all.


Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,--
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.


Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns.


A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.


It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.


It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, black and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.


It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadow brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket ball.


You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British Regulars fired and fled,---
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
Chasing the redcoats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.


So through the night rode Paul Revere;=
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,---
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

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krusader

damn, u write that?


lolz

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I R TEH SNOOG.

spiritwind

lol prob copy and paste... I like Flanders Fields.
Starts out llike,
In flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row for row
....
And i cant remember the rest. It was written by a doctor war vet

Ndlesspayn

Heres some of MY work...

Redemption

You carry on as if nothing was said

I'm catching glimpses of you crying in bed

Too bad "Enough!" isn't enough.

You came, upon heavy a rain,

To ease our minds, to rid us of what's "Insane".

It makes me want to scream

"Why? Why? Why would they say these things to you?"

Youve given us hope that it's in our reach.



Riviting

Riviting Riviting

My heart is Riviting

Riviting Riviting

My sanity's Pivoting.

Where it turns

Time shall tell

Riviting Riviting

Aeons and aeons in my own little hell

Riviting Riviting

The beast to tame

Riviting Riviting

The lion to blame

To escape the den, thats one thing

A Riviting soul, to escape the sting

To die alone,

To stay awake?

My heart, my soul

Yours to take

Riviting Riviting

My heart is Riviting

Riviting Riviting

My life is pivoting.

Where it ends,

Time to tell,

Riviting, Riviting Riviting

In this god forsaken hell.


Unnamed

So sit back and watch this fire blaze

Until this "congregations" pride is put to shame

Ill be the first to tell you.

"Burn in hell!" You scream, I'll bleed and say

"This fire I've started sure wont douse today."


Heartbreak, Hardache and Hell on Earth

Stilled by Silence, Silenced by Pain,

This harlot in red has drivin me insane.

You told me you loved me, You told me you cared,

Now, in an infinite void of emptyness i glare

On my shoulder, I you lean,

I was the one to silence the scream

Of the so called "love" you felt for me.

Now, aware of your unforgiveable lie,

I die inside, inside i cry

The Blood Beats Red, And i deny

This cant be reality...

Is it just fantasy?

God would beset me from this agony..!

With this blade, Ive silenced my scream...


Swings and Sickles

Life is nothing but a playground.

We come, We play, We go away,

But the blood from the pain is here to stay.

Splattered in red...

Lost in the ground...

Only to be remembered, only to be found

embedded in our minds, eternal scars,

That drowned in this sea of sadness.

So much darkness... Where is the light?

Such a dark time... a depressing sight

Where are our candles in this darkness?

Such an evil game, driven by madness

I chuckle, No, I laugh maniacally,

I strain to end the pains intensity

This **** in my head is anarchy.

Why should i care?

I dont anymore.

I wont play this game anymore.










This was alot of the stuff I wrote a WHILE back, found it in my old myspace blog.
Yeah, here come the flamers. lol

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"And with a swift wave of his hand, came a horrible era of chaos and fire.."

krusader

here it sit, broken hearted

poppt in to see if EA was out


and it wasn, so i farted.

__________________
I R TEH SNOOG.

kipperlips1

dry ballz dry ballz
i haz teh dry ballz
scratch them
itch them
no matter
i still have teh dry ballz

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shaggy

lol lol lol

hahah

ggz guyz yu make me haha

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** shaggy - HM // ^spNk - AP // name - BL **

Da Vinci

lol i didn't write mine it was a copy paste, its just my fav poem.
i challenge someone to write a sonnet in here!!!!!

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spiritwind

I think this one is a good one and gives us a lot 2 think about. Dylan Tomas wrote this when his father was on his death bed. 2 bad Dylan ended up Dying a year later due to Alcoholism

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Visorak06

lolz at DV's poem, ive read it before too. I have some sonnets, but erm... lets just say I never got a good grade in that class for my works heh...

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Quote by Armageddon: Visorak, Your new nickname is "Accident Prone"
BL - Visorak06
AP - Spybotmaster

Da Vinci

i have a sonnet i did in english 4, its about pie if don't get that from the poem.....(i put in apostrophes to seperate syllables)
Pie!!
My o'erall attitude towards the pie
Was that it had a filing of blue cherries.
The crust was tan, too, too tan to be mine,
But it had a very acrid tas'te.
Its workings were of cold hate and anger,
But inside it was risen with passion.
The pie, bake with a certain danger,
Also baked with a certain compassion.
This pie, my pie, a pie of the pie king,
So wonderous that god won't behalf it,
So delicious that without it, no king
Would exist. For nobody will cut it.
But, yet for all of its nastyness,
It eres in comparison to LochNess.

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AleinInDLand

by Mark Griffin

A Greater God

A boy was born mid little things, between a little wood and sky, and dreamed not of the cosmic rings arounds which the circleing planets fly. He lived in little works and thoughts where little ventures grow and plow. He paced a plowed his little plots and prayed unto his little God. But as the mighty system grew, his faith grew faint with many scars. The cosmos widened in his view, but God was lost among his starts.

Another boy in lonley days, as he to little things was born, but gathered lore and woodland ways and from the glory of them all. As wider skies broke on his view, God greatened in his glory mind. Each year he dreamed his God anew and left his older God behind. He saw the boundless scheme diolate in star and blossom, sky and cloud, and as his universe grew great, he dreamed for it a Greater God.

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We are the dreamers of the dreams and the creators of reality

RYSTIC

ashes to ashes and dust to dust if it wernt of women our !@#$ WOULD RUST

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Da Vinci

amen!!!!!!!

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Ndlesspayn

Amen! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!

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"And with a swift wave of his hand, came a horrible era of chaos and fire.."

kipperlips1

if i may say poetry is gay
its full of sh!t every single bit
i wrote this through bordom while waiting for EA
when it finaly comes it will be a happy day
but i will try to be patient and sit and wait
and we will hopefully get a beta release date
i wanna -play EA because poems are gheeeey!

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spiritwind

lol
Then on that wondrous day
That we found out that Kip was gay
We all wanted to play Ea

spiritwind

lol, eh ill take the time 2 write a serious one for ea =P. And Kip , we all know ur not really gay =P


..........
Oor Is he o_o

BlanK

everyone is a little gay inside, even emo and actually depressed people. everyone has a little piece of happiness in them somewhere.

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Da Vinci

blank, im bipolar (manic depression). don't talk to me bout different emotions.

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Visorak06

u must embrace your gay-ness to overcome it!

(btw im not gay, well thats a lie according to what he said lol)

__________________
Quote by Armageddon: Visorak, Your new nickname is "Accident Prone"
BL - Visorak06
AP - Spybotmaster

spiritwind

Awh, Visorak we all know your gay =P. You can come out of the closet, just think of us EA players as one big happy family... You can talk 2 us about your problems.

Da Vinci

Lawl!!!!!!
Spirits Got Jokes!!!!

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Visorak06

ur the one to talk spirit!

__________________
Quote by Armageddon: Visorak, Your new nickname is "Accident Prone"
BL - Visorak06
AP - Spybotmaster