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Poetry Of The Mind

Location: #arts
Members: 31
Latest Activity: Feb 14

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A World of Tragedy by Mark Strange

Started by Mark Strange. Last reply by Mark Strange Feb 14. 2 Replies

A World of Tragedy By Mark StrangeCome, come look and see, this world of tragedy. Take a look, and tell me don't need an evolution a revolution of love.All of us citizens lost, our souls wandering aimlessly, desperate and dismayed, betrayed by an…Continue

Tags: Socialism, Greed, Capitalisem, Revolution, Hate

Poems by Mullity

Started by Davy. Last reply by Davy Oct 24, 2013. 4 Replies

The following are poems I penned over the years.You can dissect them and tell me where I possibly could have done or expressed better.Down by the Creek.Down by the creek,where the tea-tree growsDown by the creek,where the cutty grass grows.Sit a…Continue

Tags: man, girl, poem, boy, youth


Started by Marianne. Last reply by Neal May 20, 2013. 1 Reply

Meandering through a grey liquid substanceor has it greenish hues, some strange glows ?No compass, no destination, no light, even the faintest one,no living interferences, no quiding clues in this nightmarish maze.Am I alive ?  Is this a dream ?I…Continue

Amoretti XXX, by Edmund Spenser

Started by A Former Member Mar 31, 2013. 0 Replies

My Love is like to ice, and I to fire:How comes it then that this her cold so greatIs not dissolved through my so hot desire,But harder grows the more I her entreat?Or how comes it that my exceeding heatIs not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,But…Continue

Tags: unrequited love, desire, love, poetry, poem

Leisure, by W.H. Davies

Started by A Former Member. Last reply by A Former Member Mar 10, 2013. 2 Replies

LeisureWHAT is this life if, full of care,We have no time to stand and stare?—No time to stand beneath the boughs,And stare as long as sheep and cows:No time to see, when woods we pass,Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:No time to see, in…Continue

Tags: poetry, poem

The Genius of the Crowd, by Charles Bukowski

Started by A Former Member Mar 9, 2013. 0 Replies

The Genius of the Crowdthere is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the averagehuman being to supply any given army on any given dayand the best at murder are those who preach against itand the best at hate are those who preach loveand…Continue

Tags: poetry, poem


Started by Marianne. Last reply by Hope Mar 4, 2013. 2 Replies

Trapped in my own restful mindwhich doubts everythingwhose doubts are also about myself and the worlds arounddoubts than can't tolerate mucheither for my own peace of mindor the state of the worldor helping my friends-In the knowledge of my own…Continue

Parting, by Charlotte Brontë

Started by A Former Member Feb 10, 2013. 0 Replies

PartingThere's no use in weeping,Though we are condemned to part:There's such a thing as keepingA remembrance in one's heart:There's such a thing as dwellingOn the thought ourselves have nurs'd,And with scorn and courage tellingThe world to do its…Continue

Tags: friendship, poetry, poem

Pelt, by Michael Symmons Roberts

Started by A Former Member Feb 8, 2013. 0 Replies


Tags: earth, poetry, poem


Started by Marianne. Last reply by Adriana Jan 12, 2013. 2 Replies

Somehow I'm stopping talkingI can't bear meaningless conversationsI even can't bear hearing myselfparticipating in words and wordsthat really mean so little..I'm afraid I can't listen anymoreto this incessant chatter.Somehow it jars on meall those…Continue

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Comment by Stephen on February 19, 2017 at 4:08pm

Comment by Stephen on February 17, 2017 at 8:27pm

Comment by Stephen on August 19, 2015 at 1:24pm
Ella Wheeler Wilcox (from Poems of Purpose, 1916)
clr gif

To sin by silence, when we should protest,
Makes cowards out of men. The human race
Has climbed on protest. Had no voice been raised
Against injustice, ignorance and lust,
The Inquisition yet would serve the law,
And guillotines decide our least disputes.
The few who dare, must speak and speak again
To right the wrongs of many. Speech, thank God,
No vested power in this great day and land
Can gag or throttle. Press and voice may cry
Loud disapproval of existing ills,
May criticise oppression and condemn
The lawlessness of wealth-protecting laws
That let the children and child-bearers toil
To purchase ease for idle millionaires.

Therefore do I protest against the boast
Of independence in this mighty land.
Call no chain strong which holds one rusted link,
Call no land free that holds one fettered slave.
Until the manacled, slim wrists of babes
Are loosed to toss in childish sport and glee,
Until the Mother bears no burden save
The precious one beneath her heart, until
God’s soil is rescued from the clutch of greed
And given back to labor, let no man
Call this the land of freedom.

Comment by Stephen on August 19, 2015 at 1:13pm
Song to the Men of England
Percy Bysshe Shelley (published by Mrs. Shelley in The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1839)
clr gif

Men of England, wherefore plough
For the lords who lay ye low?
Wherefore weave with toil and care
The rich robes your tyrants wear?

Wherefore feed and clothe and save
From the cradle to the grave
Those ungrateful drones who would
Drain your sweat—nay, drink your blood?

Wherefore, Bees of England, forge
Many a weapon, chain, and scourge,
That these stingless drones may spoil
The forced produce of your toil?

Have ye leisure, comfort, calm,
Shelter, food, love’s gentle balm?
Or what is it ye buy so dear
With your pain and with your fear?

The seed ye sow, another reaps;
The wealth ye find, another keeps;
The robes ye weave, another wears;
The arms ye forge, another bears.

Sow seed—but let no tyrant reap:
Find wealth—let no imposter heap:
Weave robes—let not the idle wear:
Forge arms—in your defence to bear.

Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells—
In hall ye deck another dwells.
Why shake the chains ye wrought? Ye see
The steel ye tempered glance on ye.

With plough and spade and hoe and loom
Trace your grave and build your tomb
And weave your winding-sheet—till fair
England be your Sepulchre.
Comment by Marc on December 16, 2012 at 12:12am

The Death of Lovers
We shall have beds full of subtle perfumes,
Divans as deep as graves, and on the shelves
Will be strange flowers that blossomed for us
Under more beautiful heavens.
Using their dying flames emulously,
Our two hearts will be two immense torches
Which will reflect their double light
In our two souls, those twin mirrors.
Some evening made of rose and of mystical blue
A single flash will pass between us
Like a long sob, charged with farewells;
And later an Angel, setting the doors ajar,
Faithful and joyous, will come to revive
The tarnished mirrors, the extinguished flames.
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)

The Death of Lovers

Comment by Doone has Fremdschämen on April 1, 2012 at 3:02pm

A Poem For Sunday

Screen shot 2012-03-29 at 8.45.51 AM

"Final Notions" by Adrienne Rich, who passed away this week:

It will not be simple, it will not take long
It will take little time, it will take all your thought
It will take all your heart, it will take all your breath
It will be short, it will not be simple

It will touch through your ribs, it will take all your heart
It will not take long, it will occupy all your thought
As a city is occupied, as a bed is occupied
It will take your flesh, it will not be simple

Continued here

Comment by Marianne on December 29, 2011 at 12:43pm

I've just watched the video that Michel posted on March 26th and loved it;  I wish there were more video-petry like that...

I keep finding little treasures on the site !

Comment by Neal on August 12, 2011 at 2:39pm

I'm still thinking of adding it as a blog. =)

Comment by Michel on August 12, 2011 at 1:20pm


You bet I did!

Comment by Adriana on August 12, 2011 at 12:53pm

Wow! Another fantastic Mathisen-Poisson collaboration. One should post it was video on the site and feature it!


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