I know why you have to go,
and it's not because you hate me so,
but even so,
you should know,
here you'll find friend,
there wherever you go,
you'll find only foe,
until the end

Why oh why do good folk die
And evil folk wither away
Fore they see the light of day?

What's the reason for passing of season
When winter kills summer and autumn does rain
What's the point of the muck and the pain
When all of it's sure to happen again?

What is the purpose of this awful world
Where pain does flourish, and suffering unfurl?

What can we do to destroy this foul place?
What can we do, not just in my mind pace
And think and ponder and suffer and moan
But still in the end, still useless and alone

I stare upon the phone
The words on the screen, like a horrible dream,
Telling me things that I don't want to know
I want to know truth, but the truth is so bare
News makes one believe that good folk are rare
And even if not, if one suffering is there
It still means that our universe isn't fair
And for some stupid reason, I felt bound to care
Rather than just escape to the air

I have to do something, but that something is what?
What can I do that will make pain not?
I can't make the universe cold if it's hot
I fear that my true goal will never be got

Little Miss Moffet
Sat on a tuffet
Eating her curds and whey
When down came a spider
It sat down beside her
It looked like a beautiful day
The spider it saw her
And it did implore her
To share of her curds and whey
She gave some with pleasure
They sat down in leisure
Eating their curds and whey

The bones gallery
Covered in every direction by earth
Under the sea
Above bedrock
That will eventually subduct and consume it all

A dozen pieces escaped, surrounded by nothing,
Still, while Earth moves away from it at breakneck speed.

It is near noon of night but I have no fear
Although dark conquers light, they are here
With their anvils and hammers and people called Larry
They'll make noise through the night, until the light and dark marry

The symphonies play of color and sound
The moonlight shines, the loud bangs abound
The scuttling noises of tiny insects
Unsettle the mind for what happens next

Until suddenly laughter tears asunder the sky
The union of lovers, the pleasure of brine
The happiness shattered, the cold on its way
But nobody cared, once they heard her say:

"Oh, you ugly people, the trouble you make
Thinking your choices are made for you by fate
When the only real thing I can now know
Is how much you'll suffer in the fiery glow."

They turned to their fellows, and said with a smile
"If the cause of my actions is truly myself,
Then I decide to be in the utmost of health.

The greatest of houses, the tastiest of foods,
The wildest of lovers, the happiest mood.
And even that Satanic realm that you imply -
Why, I decide to simply pass my way by."

"In fact," they continued, getting carried away
"I'd free those of who old Lucifer holds sway.
They can of course join my lifetime of sin
Of pleasure and happiness - come on, join in!"

But tragedy struck, as late was the hour.
And not a pumpkin was seen, but a small orange flower.
Alas, that's become of those who Metatron defy
They have to, of course, protect their great lie.

Oh, the man, the woman and boy
None of them knew how to get the great joy
Sunset came, and sunrise rose
But for all of their days, no song was composed

Swiftly
Softly
Slowly creeping
Stab - crack!
No one is weeping

Those who would cry at the death of their lord
Blew away into dust as their thoughtless minds soared

"Nevermind," the old man said, sitting in the bench in the park.
He slowly bent down to feed the birds - a pigeon, a dove and a lark
The grey Oxford sky over his head, the harbinger of impending rain.
He wrote his last word with the pen in his hand,
And far away where, a girl's name was planned
For the last time, her name was uttered
While in sadness, the old man muttered.

God save our feeble king
God save our noble king
God save the king

Send him far over us
Where he lords over us
Up in his palaces
God save the king

Send him to your own land
So he is out our hands
Up in those fabled gates
God save the king

Oh say can't you see
By the moon's sterile light
How the people all lay,
As their stab wounds lay gleaming

Oh say can't you see
What this country is truly
The land of the few
And the home of the pained

A crescent moon
A silver slice of lunar rock
Glowing in the night
Pinpricks of light everywhere except the dark side of the moon
True blackness
False emptiness
Uncertain perception

And if you close your eyes, you won't see the monsters
And if you close the door, the banging is just the pipes
Close your mind, never mind what might be out there
Just close your eyes, for me, my lamb.

It's gone, don't worry,
In fact, it was never there.
Your pain, my hurry
You can never say I don't care

I care for you
I love for you
I love you

You are the reason the monsters stay away
Those monsters that plague me in my mind
Those monsters, I'll make sure they never trouble you
I'll hold you in my mouth tonight

I'll hold you in my arms tonight
I hold you in the arms of a monster tonight

I heard a word
I meant it in my brain
Another word sounded absurd
Everyone thought she was insane

The second word in truth they said
Was 'I', but it was never known
What speech the word, what tongue the talk
What power has the telephone

And in the end when words are null
And all is but an inky black
The power of the word is clear
The word's power is only here

"Ok!" I cried, amire in misery,
"Never take this choice from me!"
"Aha," he said, his voice harsh with fire,
"You never had which you desired!"

"Avast!" he cried, "Let's man the sails!
Your life's not over, you haven't failed,
Just because you have no child,
It only means you can be more wild
Live your years, a myriad await,
waste it not on what you call fate!"

"One verse at a time, just live your days,
I promise nothing you do can faze!"
"But," she said in a shaky sigh,
"All I want is to finally die."

"What did you mean?" a small voice said,
"When you said you made the choice to be dead?
What other option did you think you could allow,
If there is none, you have no choice even now."

"I don't care if it's choice, I don't care if it's free!"
At this point the small girl shook on her knee.
"I don't care for a thing, and that's what I need.
Oblivion will fix my need to be freed."

"Forget all that, emotions are dumb!"
The great sailor cried,
"All I need to know is that one equals one!"

"Do you think that'll convince me?"
The girl snorted, despite herself.
"I am a dwarf, you are an elf.
Emotions come to me as facts come to you,
How do you know one does not equal two?"

The sailor and dwarf sailed under the moon,
That night two became one as they passed on the waves,
As when he returned, only the sailor remained.

Someone once wrote a word.
I read it in my mind.
Someone once wrote a word.
It I never did find.

Somebody once did sing a song,
At once, I begun to sing along.
Somebody once wrote a song.
It never left their mind.

Somebody once did scream in fear,
I gasped, I cared, I felt so near.
Somebody did once cry in pain.
Alone, they wept, their tears like rain.

A person wrote a poem to me.
'A word,' I said, 'well, now I see.'

Hi y'all, I know I'm posting a bunch of my own poems here with no additional text or commentary in the poems themselves, and also some are quite metaphorical or surreal. If there's a problem with any of it, or I'm spamming the community, please feel free to tell me a better place to put them, or remove my posts with warnings.

I intentionally don't provide commentary to avoid guiding your thoughts before you read them, if you want to hear my thoughts or explanations for anything, please don't hesitate to ask me in the comments here or the appropriate post :3

Say the silence, be the rain, patter against their windows
Don't play their game

The conversation has just begun
But the talk has continued for centuries
Only one will be just one
But drops of water make the seas

Poems fight against the dark
But nothing will come to us all
The greatest word, the brightest spark
Will fade before the final fall

Sadness is a useless state
Happiness will come too late
None can control their own desire
As much as we try to light the fire
If we mope we cannot grope
For joy which is simply absent
But when it arrives, like a mystic surprise
Seize the deceitful gift to cope

And no one who ever said their piece
Felt glad to be done, at peace with their call
But let people digest, let them feast
Lest they be overwhelmed and lose it all

Good intentions fall onto the floor
As misguided carers harm their care
Always the ones who have the means
Are never the ones who have the will
To help, selflessly.

It shifts with the changing of the days,
Melancholy gives way to hope,
Calm becomes fatigue
Joy fades when empathy alerts to the world

Old but gold.

This poem is not in the book shown. This was transcribed from an instagram post made on June 18, 2024.

---

Take your pick of politicians, out of touch so deeply.
Who crave your vote to steer our boat jump into bed to sleep li-
asing with corrupted frauds who desecrate their post.
The parliamentary parasites who wank to Thatcher's ghost.
What I really think is not politically correct.
I'm sick of seeing sycophants whose job is to perfect
The art of causing chasms and dissolving public unity.
A poison, puerile, pestilence polluting our community.
Where's the money skimmed from taxes getting siphoned for expenses?
Where's the justice for your mates who commit criminal offenses?
Where's the empathy for humans that don't look or act like you?
What are all the citizens who are in poverty to do?
Where are all the refugees who simply need our help to go?
Just stick em on a barge or plane; maintain the status quo.
Use them as an excuse for why we can't afford to heat
The homes that we will never own, the food our kids can't eat.
Pick the one who's gonna rule us with the minimum disruption.
Who'll only break the records of malfeasance and corruption.
The way that they are hollowing out Britain starts to grate.
Taking try of this country giving back the right to hate
Anyone who's black or brown disabled, queer, or working class.
A woman or an immigrant, to them the blame will pass.
If the people fight among ourselves, divided we will fall.
When we look after each other and seek liberty for all
A rising tide will lift all boats, do not let them distract
Because the people have the power and it's time for us to act.

Much more solemn than the others I’ve posted

Grass.

BY CARL SANDBURG.

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo
Shovel them under and let me work—
I am the grass; I cover all.

And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?

                                      I am the grass.   
                                      Let me work.  

Another one from the very old book of poetry that was my grandma's.

**The Duel

Eugene Field 1850 – 1895**

The gingham dog and the calico cat
Side by side on the table sat;
'T was half-past twelve, and (what do you think!)
Nor one nor t' other had slept a wink!
The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate
Appeared to know as sure as fate
There was going to be a terrible spat.
* (I wasn't there; I simply state
What was told to me by the Chinese plate!) *

The gingham dog went "Bow-wow-wow!"
And the calico cat replied "Mee-ow!"
The air was littered, an hour or so,
With bits of gingham and calico,
While the old Dutch clock in the chimney-place
Up with its hands before its face,
For it always dreaded a family row!
*(Now mind: I'm only telling you
What the old Dutch clock declares is true!) *

The Chinese plate looked very blue,
And wailed, "Oh, dear! what shall we do!"
But the gingham dog and the calico cat
Wallowed this way and tumbled that,
Employing every tooth and claw
In the awfullest way you ever saw—
And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew!
* (Don't fancy I exaggerate—
I got my news from the Chinese plate!) *

Next morning, where the two had sat
They found no trace of dog or cat;
And some folks think unto this day
That burglars stole that pair away!
But the truth about the cat and pup
Is this: they ate each other up!
Now what do you really think of that!
* (The old Dutch clock it told me so,
And that is how I came to know.)*

In truth, I didn't encounter this until I saw Dead Poet's Society when it came out out on VHS. But that movie is part of how I came to appreciate poetry rather than just putting in the work in school. There really is something about poetry being performed aloud that makes it more moving than just a classmate reading from a book in a stilted voice.

Anyway, this isn't a recipe blog, so I won't go into that any further. And the poem stands for itself without any commentary.

O Captain! My Captain!

BY WALT WHITMAN

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Source: Leaves of Grass (David McKay, 1891)

This is one of my favorites, because you can almost hear the dance music in the verses.

The Minuet (1879) by Mary Mapes Dodge

Grandma told me all about it,

Told me so I couldn’t doubt it,

How she danced—my Grandma danced!—.

Long ago.

How she held her pretty head,

How her dainty skirt she spread,

Turning out her little toes;

How she slowly leaned and rose—.

Long ago.

Grandma’s hair was bright and sunny;

Dimpled cheeks, too—ah, how funny!

Really quite a pretty girl,

Long ago.

Bless her! why, she wears a cap,

Grandma does, and takes a nap.

Every single day; and yet.

Grandma danced the minuet.

Long ago.

Now she sits there, rocking, rocking,

Always knitting Grandpa’s stocking—.

(Every girl was taught to knit.

Long ago.).

Yet her figure is so neat,

And her ways so staid and sweet,

I can almost see her now.

Bending to her partner’s bow,

Long ago.

Grandma says our modern jumping,

Hopping, rushing, whirling, bumping,

Would have shocked the gentle folk.

Long ago.

No—they moved with stately grace,

Everything in proper place,

Gliding slowly forward, then.

Slowly courtseying back again,

Long ago.

Modern ways are quite alarming,

Grandma says; but boys were charming—.

Girls and boys, I mean, of course—.

Long ago.

Brave but modest, grandly shy,—.

She would like to have us try.

Just to feel like those who met.

In the graceful minuet.

Long ago.

Were the minuet in fashion,

Who could fly into a passion?

All would wear the calm they wore.

Long ago.

In time to come, if I, perchance,

Should tell my grandchild of our dance,

I should really like to say:

“We did it, dear, in some such way,

Long ago.”

When I was a kid, my grandmother gave me a slender book titled “101 Classic Poems.” I’m 59, and this was hers when she was young, so these are some old timey poems! I can go through it and post some of them if anyone would be interested.

I.

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 stars that oversprinkle

All the heavens, seem to twinkle

With a crystalline delight;

Keeping time, time, time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells

From the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells —

From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II.

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, bells, bells —

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells —

To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III.

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,

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

On 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 [[Yes]], 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 —

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells —

In the clamour and the clangour of the bells!

IV.

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 affright

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, rolls,

Rolls

A pæan from the bells!

And his merry bosom swells

With the pæan of the bells!

And he dances, and he yells;

Keeping time, time, time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the pæan of the bells —

Of the bells: —

Keeping time, time, time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the throbbing of the bells —

Of the bells, bells, bells —

To the sobbing of the bells: —

Keeping time, time, time,

As he knells, knells, knells,

In a happy Runic rhyme,

To the rolling of the bells —

Of the bells, bells, bells: —

To the tolling of the bells —

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells —

---

And The wikipedia entry for a little background

---

This poem might as well define onomatopeia, and it spawned what has become my second favorite word, tintinnabulation.

It is among my favorite to read aloud, on the rare occasions that is something worth doing. Sadly, poetry reading as a form of social interaction is not what it used to be lol. But this one is usually my top pick when there's a call for such things. It's just so fun to read. Normally, poe runs dark, and you usually don't think of him as fun. You'd do something like the jabberwock because of its unique words and sonic flow. But old Edgar pulled this poem out of his otherwise emo ass, and it never fails to delight.

EDIT: /u/southsamurai has picked up the gauntlet. May the sun shine on all their days.

---

With only a modicum of regret, I am stepping away from Lemmy.

Nothing to do with this community or Lemmy itself. Love y'all.

Rather, since leaving reddit I've observed a huge improvement in my mental health and my feelings of personal effectiveness. I'm taking this as a sign to exit social media for now, as an exercise in overall self-care.

So I'm releasing this community to, well, whoever would like to step up! This will likely be my last post here, but I'll keep an eye on my inbox.

~~If there are any takers, just hmu.~~