Poems for the New Year

[pianistimo]

Edgar Allan Poe

Hear the sledges with the bells
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle tinkle tinkle
In the icy air of night!
While the heavens oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
with a crystalline delight;
Keeping time time time
in a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintanabulation that so musically wells
from the bells bells bells...
from the jingling and the tingling of the bells

Hear the mellow wedding bells
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight -
From the molten golden notes
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
on the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the future ! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing of the bells
of the bells bells bells
...to the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

Hear the loud alarum bells
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of Night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
they can only shriek shriek shriek
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
leaping higher higher higher
With a desperate desire
And a resolute endeavor
Now- now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells bells bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
In the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear, it fully knows,
by the twanging
and the clanging
How the danger ebbs and flows -
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling
and the wrangling
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells -
of the bells bells bells....
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells.

Hear the tolling of the bells -
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night
How we shiver with afright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people - ah, the people
They that dwell up in the steeple
All alone,
And who, tolling tolling tolling
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone -
They are neither man nor woman -
They are neither brute nor human .
they are ghouls;
And their king it is who tolls-
and he rolls rolls rolls
a Paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
with the paean of the bells!
And he dances and he yells;
keeping time time time
Ina a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells-
of the bells-
...to the moaning and the groaning
of the bells.

Put to music by Rachmaninov in 'The Bells' Full score.

[pianistimo]

Here's some christian poems, too (a little lighter):
https://christianity.about.com/od/newyearsprayersverses/qt/newyearspoems.htm

Feel free to add your own.

[communist]

Edgar Allan Poe

Hear the sledges with the bells
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle tinkle tinkle
In the icy air of night!
While the heavens oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
with a crystalline delight;
Keeping time time time
in a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintanabulation that so musically wells
from the bells bells bells...
from the jingling and the tingling of the bells

Hear the mellow wedding bells
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight -
From the molten golden notes
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
on the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the future ! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing of the bells
of the bells bells bells
...to the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

Hear the loud alarum bells
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of Night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
they can only shriek shriek shriek
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
leaping higher higher higher
With a desperate desire
And a resolute endeavor
Now- now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells bells bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
In the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear, it fully knows,
by the twanging
and the clanging
How the danger ebbs and flows -
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling
and the wrangling
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells -
of the bells bells bells....
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells.

Hear the tolling of the bells -
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night
How we shiver with afright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people - ah, the people
They that dwell up in the steeple
All alone,
And who, tolling tolling tolling
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone -
They are neither man nor woman -
They are neither brute nor human .
they are ghouls;
And their king it is who tolls-
and he rolls rolls rolls
a Paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
with the paean of the bells!
And he dances and he yells;
keeping time time time
Ina a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells-
of the bells-
...to the moaning and the groaning
of the bells.

Put to music by Rachmaninov in 'The Bells' Full score.

i love that poem the Bells its my favorite 

[concerto_love]

When a cuckoo sings

on a hill, tea-pickers stand

stock-still to listen.

(Behn, p.

XP late...

[pianistimo]

Glad you agree, commie (can i call you that?)

And, i rather like this little short ditty from concerto_love.  I can think of several tea drinkers on the forum.  Hmmm.  Well, anyways - happy new years if this is indeed a new year.

You know, there's a new year of biblical reckoning, too.  It's actually on the new moon of the seventh month of the Hebrew calendar.  It's called 'the day of Trumpets.'  It's supposed to bring in a new year and those that worship from the day of Atonment to Trumpets are actually praying that they be included in the 'book of Life' and given blessings for the new year.  Interesting, huh.  Well, to a few people maybe.

[G.W.K]

"Daffodils" by William Wordswoth:

I wander'd lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Only one I know off by heart (because I had to learn it years ago) that isn't in Gaelic.

G.W.K

[thalbergmad]

Mary had a little bike
She rode it round the grass
Every time the wheel went round
The spokes went................

Cannot remember the rest.

Thal

[general disarray]

[Thou Art Indeed Just, Lord]

Thou are indeed just, Lord, if I contend
With thee, but, sir, so what I plead is just.
Why do sinners' ways prosper? and why must
Disappointment all I endeavor end?

Wert thou my enemy, O thou my friend,
How wouldst thou worse, I wonder, than thou dost
Defeat, thwart me? Oh, the sots and thralls of lust
Do in spare hours more thrive than I that spend,

Sir, life upon they cause.  See, banks and brakes
Now, leaved how thick! laced they are again
With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes

Them; birds build--but not I build; no, but strain,
Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes.
Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.

(Gerard Manley Hopkins)

[pianistimo]

OOh.  I LOVE these poems.  Keep them coming. 

*half-mast? - is that the end of your poem Thal?

[communist]

Glad you agree, commie (can i call you that?)

And, i rather like this little short ditty from concerto_love.  I can think of several tea drinkers on the forum.  Hmmm.  Well, anyways - happy new years if this is indeed a new year.

You know, there's a new year of biblical reckoning, too.  It's actually on the new moon of the seventh month of the Hebrew calendar.  It's called 'the day of Trumpets.'  It's supposed to bring in a new year and those that worship from the day of Atonment to Trumpets are actually praying that they be included in the 'book of Life' and given blessings for the new year.  Interesting, huh.  Well, to a few people maybe.

yes, you can call me commie

[cmg]

"The Second Coming" 

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming!  Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight:  somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze bland and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds,
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?

(W.B. Yeats)

[healdie]

there was a young man from Leeds
Who swallowed a packet of seeds
In 24 hours
his balls were in flowers and
his willie turned into weeds 

[communist]

The Three Brothers Budrys (the poem that Chopin read before he wrote his fourth ballade)


Doughty Budrys the old, Lithuanian bold,
He has summoned his lusty sons three.
"Your chargers stand idle, now saddle and bridle
And out with your broadswords," quoth he.

"For with trumpets' loud braying in Wilno they're saying
That our crmies set forth to three goals;
Gallant Olgierd takes Russia and Kiejstut takes Prussia
And Scirgiell - our neighbours the Poles,

"Stout of heart and of hand, go, fight for your land
With the gods of your fathers to guide you;
Though I mount not this year, yet my rede ye shall hear:
Ye are three and three roads ye shall ride you.

"By Lake Ilmen's broad shores where fair Novgorod lowers
One shall follow 'neath Olgierd's device:
There are sables' black tails there are silvery veils,
There are coins shining brightly like ice,

"With Kiejstut's hordes ample the next son shall trample
That dog's breed, the Knights of the Cross;
There he amber thick-strown, vestments diamond-sown,
And brocades al a marvellous gloss,

"In the barren, stripped land beyond Niemen's wide strand
Where goes Skirgiell, the third son shall ride;
Only buckler and sword will he get as reward,
But from there he shall bring him his bride.

   

"For 'tis Poland the world over that's the land lor a lover:
All the maids are like kittens at play;
Faces whiter than milk, lashes soft as black silk,
And their eyes - like the star-shine are they!

Fifty years are now sped and my bride is long dead,
The bright Pole I brought home from a raid:
And yet still when I stand and gaze out toward that land,
I remenber the face of that maid."

So he ends and they turn, he has blessed them their journey:
They've armed them, they've mounted and fled:
Fall and winter both pass, never word comes, alas,
And old Budrys had thought his sons dead.

Through the high-piling drift comes a youth riding swift,
'Neath his mantle rich booty doth hide:
"Ah, a Novgorod kettle full of silver-bright metal!"
- "Nay, my father, a Polish bride!"

Through the high-piling drift comes a youth riding swill,
'Neath his mantle rich booty doth hide:
"Ah, amber, my son, in the German land won'"
- "Nay, my father, a Polish bride!"

Through the high-piling drift rides the third. Ah, his gift,
'Tis the pride of the west and the east!
But while yet it is hidden, old Budrys has bidden
His guests to the third wedding feast.

[healdie]

Josephine, Josephine,
The meanest girl I've ever seen.
Her eyes are red, her hair is green
And she takes baths in gasoline.

Alexander Resnikoff

"Hallelujah!" was the only observation
That escaped Lieutenant-Colonel Mary Jane,
When she tumbled of the platform in the station
And was cut in little pieces by the train.
    Mary Jane, the train is through yer!
    Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!
We shall gather up the fragments that remain.

-- A. E. Housman

[general disarray]

"There once was a young man from Sparta
Who, they say, was a very good farta.
He could fart anything from "God Save the Queen"
To Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata."

First, comes a neat pizzicato
Followed by a prolonged obbligato,
Then -- with a crash -- comes Bach's "B-Minor Mass,"
And, in counterpoint, "La Traviata."

(Ta dum!)

[G.W.K]

*half-mast? - is that the end of your poem Thal?

I think not...think of a word that rhymes, especially with "bike". Since "half-mast" doesn't rhyme or make sense at all.

G.W.K

[communist]

amateurs try and make poems rhyme instead of trying to make them good which is a horrid mistake since poems by no means have to ryhme. saying a poem has to rhyme is like saying a concerto has to be for piano.

[pianistimo]

Yes.  Take the farting poem, for example.  Just kidding.  Actually - these are all making me laugh a lot. 

[general disarray]

"This Be the Verse"

They f*uck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were f*ucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man,
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can.
And don't have any kids yourself.

(Philip Larkin, 1974)

Dedicated to "commie," who thinks good verse shouldn't rhyme.)

[tds]

"We're all capable!
AALLLL!!!
Capable!
Capable!
Capable!
Capable!
Capable!
F$ck!
d*mn sh*t!
YEAAHHH!" Luke Brangasan, 2009

[communist]

that was so sweet of you dedicating a poem to me  so in returm i have dedicated this poem to you:

In a reverie of dolor
Nigh of a monastary
With the sound of Liszt in the air
As well as a stoical mist

This one laments over the mausoleum
Her beloved no longer extant
In an elegiac state
She trembles in whist

This one lauds his cessationHis wrath shall no longer plague
And his greed shall no longer vigor
Now, They are both blind in Black

This one tremor over his cadaver
With a vague cognition
And a rueful pith
He is laying to whist

She is in a whirlwind of a pastoral
Greed stricken
She contemplates the fortune she shall reap
And the lucre she will elicit


written by myself

[general disarray]

Excellent, commie!  You sound like a modern Algernon Swinburne.

I now dedicate this new poem to you, entitled:

"Fleas"

Adam had 'em.




(e.e. cummings, I think)

[communist]

now i am obligated to dedicate a poem to you again so here it is

i wrote it about Arnold Bocklin's painting "The Isle of the Dead"


Over the dark water
A priest and a peasant
They ferry into the black steps
Two gold pillars being supported by a rock barrier show the way
Greek pillars hold on the mountain
The clouds of death show no light
As they row into the darkness 


by the way after this i am not dedicating anymore poem to you lol

[general disarray]

now i am obligated to dedicate a poem to you again so here it is

i wrote it about Arnold Bocklin's painting "The Isle of the Dead"


Over the dark water
A priest and a peasant
They ferry into the black steps
Two gold pillars being supported by a rock barrier show the way
Greek pillars hold on the mountain
The clouds of death show no light
As they row into the darkness 


by the way after this i am not dedicating anymore poem to you lol

"Ode to Commie"

To obligate is merely to obfuscate
We owe one another only what we freely choose to give.

To give is to truly live.
We need have no greater purpose than this.

Of your debt to dedicate, fellow scribe,
Hereby be absolved!

Nevermore, quoth the raven, nevermore . . .nevermore.


(from "General Disarray's Compendium of Chronic Verse, Vol. 12," only $19.99 if you act now!  Don't wait.  Supplies limited!)

[db05]

White

This is how it felt on Christmas
Everything's dead
This is how it felt on Valentine's
covered in white

The man said
- I don't think you'd like it -
The lady said
- Stop praying for snow -

We've stopped praying
and started walking
but we still bring the snow everywhere we go.

Hell has frozen over.
It's hell nonetheless.


from Pins and Needles - poems I wrote in the US.
Snowing over there, pianistimo?

[thalbergmad]

Here is a poem i wrote about mental illness.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
You're schizophrenic
And so am I.

Thal

[cmg]

Old Poem Written by Pianistimo Many Decades Ago to Thal:

Rose are red,
Violets are blue,
I've got my knickers in a bunch over you.

[pianistimo]

Thanks, Cmg - but really - how old do you think i am? (written DECADES ago?)  OK.  It's a don't ask don't tell situation.  You all are very creative with the poems.

Communist, why is it when  man dies and a woman is left with money - people think she doesn't deserve it?  Well, money is fairly useless without a man to share it with - so on that account, I'd rather have my husband than the money.  Women do a lot of work, though - that is unpaid and rather unthought about.  AFter all, who pays a woman to have children or keep the house clean?  And, think about in past generations - it was typically the woman who died first.  From childbirth or overwork.

Blackbirds

They come in flocks
and swarm to warm
in fields of frozen grass...

They never seem
to fight or squeam
and each is never last.

The one and all
philosophy is truly
one and all...

They rise again
into the air
and noone ever falls.

 

[pianistimo]

Here's an anonymous author's poem for the new year:

The Unknown Future

Life is a book in volumes three--
The past, the present, and the yet-to-be.
The past is written and laid away,
The present we're writing every day,
And the last and best of volumes three
Is locked from sight -- God keeps the key.
-- Author Unknown

[communist]

i just used random genders 

[communist]

poem to Nils:


Oh come are savior
we are lost
we have no light to guide us through the darkness

the devil is among us
and only you can drive him away
than

only than we can kneel
and read the psalms
to your memoriam

[cmg]

Thanks, Cmg - but really - how old do you think i am? (written DECADES ago?)  OK.  It's a don't ask don't tell situation.  You all are very creative with the poems.

I was being TOO creative and thinking in dog years.  Sorry.  You'll always be younger than springtime to me!



(Arrgh .. . sorry for all this wasted black space, nils.)

[thalbergmad]

I was being TOO creative and thinking in dog years. 

How appropriate.

[thracozaag]

Here is a poem i wrote about mental illness.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
You're schizophrenic
And so am I.

Thal

Close, my friend.  The penultimate line I believe is "I'm schizophrenic".

[thalbergmad]

AGHHHHHHHH I made a right mess of that.

Thanks

Thal

[michel dvorsky]

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down and broke his crown
and Jill came tumbling after

The Moral:

DONT GO F***NG AROUND WITH S**** OR YOULL GET YOUR HEAD CAVED IN.

[general disarray]

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down and broke his crown
and Jill came tumbling after

The Moral:

DONT GO F***NG AROUND WITH S**** OR YOULL GET YOUR HEAD CAVED IN.

Sounds to me like Jack and Jill were two degenerates who were just out looking for trouble.  Screw 'em, I say.

[thalbergmad]

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down and broke his crown
and Jill came tumbling after

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water
Jack came down with his trousers down
and Jill with a baby daughter.

[general disarray]

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water
Jack came down with his trousers down
and Jill with a baby daughter.

There once was a young man named Thal
Who was in a mood most foul,
He exposed poor old Jack
And impregnated Jill
And kicked Sorabji just for a thrill.

[ronde_des_sylphes]

There once was a young man named Thal
Who was in a mood most foul,
He exposed poor old Jack
And impregnated Jill
And kicked Sorabji just for a thrill.

(with apologies to Alistair) 

There was a young man named Hinton
Who espoused the Opus Clavicembalisticum
At half past four
He got out the score
But come midnight he had drunk more than enough wine to finish him

[general disarray]

"Doo-Wa, Doo-Wa, Doo-Wa Ditty!
Talk about the boy from New York City!"

(deleted first lines from Milton's "Paradise Lost.")

(from "General Disarray's Collection of Discarded Poetic Lines," only $19.95 if you act now!  Order now!  Quantities limited!)

p.s.  ronde des sylphes, I love your limerick!!    

[pianogirl88]

I have come to the realization that many of you have very dirty minds.

(Well, I actually realized this long ago...)

[thalbergmad]

Get on with your homework or there will be no allowance this week.

Thal

[pianogirl88]

Get on with your homework or there will be no allowance this week.

Thal

I have been doing my schoolwork all day!

Such as Algebra, Latin, and Biology..

[concerto_love]

Two butterflies dance side by side
even death cannot part them.
The eternal love is witnessed by the mountains
and rivers.

Two butterflies dance side by side
for friendship, love, and beauty.
The dream of a lifetime
has touched heaven and earth.



((from 'Butterfly Lovers', one of my favorite poem)) 

[db05]

ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION - REWRITE

Wanting to spit out these jarred thoughts is
Because there's no other proof of my existence
My future that I should've grabbed hold is
Conflicting between "dignity" and "freedom"

Wanting to erase the distorted afterimage is
Because I'll see my limitations over there
In the window of the excessively self-conscious me
This is last year's calendar with no dates on it

Erase and rewrite
The pointless ultra-fantasy
The unforgettable sense of being

Revive, Rewrite
Even meaningless imagination is the driving force that creates you
Give it your whole body and soul

After cutting my feelings that grew,
I cry
After realizing that after all, I'm just a mediocrity,
I cry

this depressed heart,
this dirty lie...

Erase and rewrite
The pointless ultra-fantasy
The unforgettable sense of being

Revive, Rewrite
Even meaningless imagination is the driving force that creates you
Give it your whole body and soul


MINERAL - SLOWER

It's been so long since I've been by myself
And I need this more than you will ever know
People like you and me never felt the breeze
People like you and me will never know the easy way

I scream into the wind and laugh
As the words slap me in the face
I would gladly trade a lifetime of convenience
For and honest day or two

It's just not the same when you're staring
Into a perfect golden sunset
And thinking about how you sold your soul
To send the rain away

It's been so long since I've stood on my two feet
I'd really rather lay here and pretend
But people like you and me never get that peace
It comes from denying that everything is so screwed up
It's so screwed up

I stand on a building and throw up my arms to the sky
I swallow my pride and admit
That it's not always best to understand the reason why

It's just not the same when you wake up in the morning
With a smile on your face
When you know you lied yourself to sleep to make it better
To make it better

[cai hong]

I tried to make my own:

The weeds of January
grows in the field, blossomed in
blessings of 2009

[concerto_love]

Another one XD, this is mine!!

Ten thousand dreams in one night,
the world is like dust
Scattering, in bamboo leaves

[communist]

I took the path of darkness
On that path I saw
Horrific evils and troubles
Only to strike me that
I was causing them
Down the path

With no way out
It was like I was in a box closing in
With no way out
I could only pray
And my prayers were denied
And now I wither
going back down the path

[healdie]

Spike Milligan

On the Ning Nang Nong
Where the Cows go Bong!
And the Monkeys all say Boo!
There's a Nong Nang Ning
Where the trees go Ping!
And the tea pots Jibber Jabber Joo.
On the Nong Ning Nang
All the mice go Clang!
And you just can't catch 'em when they do!
So it's Ning Nang Nong!
Cows go Bong!
Nong Nang Ning!
Trees go Ping!
Nong Ning Nang!
The mice go Clang!

What a noisy place to belong,
Is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!!