General Chat

He Fell among Thieves. "You have robbed" said he "You have slaughtered and made an end, Take your ill-got plunder and bury your dead; What would ye more of your guest and sometime friend?" "Blood for our blood" said they. He laughed "If one can settle the score for five, I am ready, but let the reckoning stand until day, I have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive" "You shall die at dawn" said they. He flung his empty revolver down the slope And climbed alone to the eastward edge of the trees; And all night long, in a dream untroubled of hope He brooded, clasping his knees. He did not hear the monotonous roar that fills the ravine Where the Yassin river sullenly flows, He did not see the starlight on the Laspar hills Or the far Afghan snows. He saw the April noon on his books ago, The wisteria trailing in at the window wide, He heard his father's voice from the terrace below Calling him down to ride. He saw the little grey church across the park The mounds that hide the loved and honoured dead The Norman arch, the chancel softly dark; The brasses, black and red. He saw the school close, sunny and green, The runner beside him, the stand by the parapet wall The distant tape and the crowd roaring between; His own name over all. He saw the dark wainscot and timbered roof, The long tables and the faces, merry and keen, He saw the college eight and their trainer, dining aloof; The Dons on their dais, serene. And now it was dawn,He rose strong on his feet And strode to the ruined camp below the wood He turned and saw the golden circle of light His murderers around him stood. "Oh Glorious Life that dwellest in earth and sun I praise and adore thee" A sword swept. Over the pass the voices one by one faded And the hill slept.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing Keats ---------------------------------------- It was an evening in November As I very well remember, I was strolling down the street in drunken pride, But my knees were all a-flutter, And I landed in the gutter And a pig came up and lay down by my side. Yes, I lay there in the gutter Thinking thoughts I could not utter, When a colleen passing by did softly say ‘You can tell a man who boozes By the company he chooses’— And the pig got up and slowly walked away. Anon (I first heard this recited bt the late Kenneth Williams)

Matilda (who told lies and was burned to death) by Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953) Matilda told such Dreadful Lies, It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes; Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth, Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth, Attempted to Believe Matilda: The effort very nearly killed her, And would have done so, had not She Discovered this Infirmity. For once, towards the Close of Day, Matilda, growing tired of play, Went tiptoe to the Telephone And summoned the Immediate Aid Of London's Noble Fire-Brigade, Within an hour the Gallant Band Were pouring in on every hand, From Putney, Hackney Downs and Bow, With Courage high and Hearts a-glow They galloped, roaring through the Town, 'Matilda's House is Burning Down!' Inspired by British Cheers and Loud Proceeding from the Frenzied Crowd, They ran their ladders through a score Of windows on the Ball Room Floor; And took Peculiar Pains to Souse The Pictures up and down the House, Until Matilda's Aunt succeeded In showing them they were not needed And even then she had to pay To get the Men to go away! . . . . . . . . It happened that a few Weeks later Her Aunt was off to the Theatre To see that Interesting Play The Second Mrs Tanqueray. She had refused to take her Niece To hear this Entertaining Piece: A Deprivation Just and Wise To Punish her for Telling Lies. That Night a Fire did break out - You should have heard Matilda Shout! You should have heard her Scream and Bawl, And throw the window up and call To People passing in the Street - (The rapidly increasing Heat Encouraging her to obtain Their confidence) - but all in vain! For every time She shouted 'Fire!' They only answered 'Little Liar!' And therefore when her Aunt returned, Matilda, and the House, were Burned

Viv in Herts Fancy they are still teaching the same poems at school. I was at school during the war years and this is when I learnt the poem NOISE. Sylvia

I seem to remember signing this at school:- Where the bee sucks, there suck I. In a cowslips bell I lie. There I couch till owls do cry, Till owls do cry, till owls do cry. On a bat's back I do fly-y-y-y-y After summer merrily, merrily After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough Verily, verily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. Not sure where it came from - sound a bit Shakespearean. Perhaps someone could tell me?? Kathy

and now for something funny In the days of old, when men were bold, and paper wasn't invented. They'd wipe their a**e, on a blade of grass, and walk away contented.

Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there, I do not sleep I am a thousand winds that blow I am the diamond glint in snow I am the sunlight on ripened grain I am the gentle autumn rain When you wake in the morning hush I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circling flight I am the soft starlight at night Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there, I do not sleep

Sylvia, Yes I learnt this at school 30 years or so ago. My all time favourites are, Matilda by Hilaire Belloc, The Lamb by William Blake and a very funny but poignant poem about some dandelions....All three taught to me by my mother who passed away 7 months ago. The Dandelions. Some young and saucy dandelions were dancing in the sun, They were brimming full of happiness and running o'er with fun. They stretched their necks so slender to stare up to the sky, They frolicked with the bumble bee, they teased the butterfly. But soon they saw beside them a dandelion old, His form was bent and withered. Gone were his looks of gold. "Oh, Oh," they cried,"Just see him." "Old grey beard, how do you do?" "We'd hide our heads in the grasses if we were as old as you." So they mocked the poor old fellow, 'till night came on apace Then a cunning little green nightcap hid each tiny face. But lo, when dawned the morning, up rose each tiny head, Decked not with golden tresses, but long grey locks instead!!! Lets have more poetry please!!!! Viv.

Many thanks Vivien for filling my poem in. I wonder whether you too learnt it at school and how long ago.

can anyone remember this poem? I can only remember the first few lines and it was very funny. It goes: By far the naughtiest children I know Were Jasper, Geranium, James, and Jo They lived in a house on the hill of Kidd, And what in the world do you think they did? They invited their aunts and uncles to tea And shouted, in loud voices, "We - Are tired of scoldings and sendings to bed So now the gorwn ups will be punished instead!" It goes on and has a bit about "slapped poor Aunt Bea again and again" - does anyone remember?

the only one i can remember is the owl and the pussycat went to sea in a beautiful peagreen boat the owl looked up to the stars above and sang to a small guitar.....opussy my love what a beautiful pussy you are you are what a beautiful pussy you are. so they sailed away for a year and a day to the land were the bong trees grow and there in a wood a piggywig stood with a ring in the end of his nose his nose with a ring in end of his nose...........etc theres more but my finger aches my son has a copy of the jabberwocky and its total gibberish by cs lewis.

I like noise. The whoop of a boy, the thud of a hoof, The rattle of rain on a galvanized roof, The hubbub of traffic, the roar of a train, The throb of machinery numbing the brain, The switching of wires in an overhead tram, The rush of the wind, a door on the slam, The boom of thunder, the crash of the waves, The din of the river that races and raves, The crack of a rifle, the clank of a pail, The strident tattoo of a swift-slapping sail- From any old sound that the silence destroys Arises a gamut of soul-stirring joys, I like noise. One of my favourites as well, Viv.

Learnt at school nearly 60 years ago! NOISE by J. Pope I like noise The whoop of a boy the thud of a hoof the rattle of rain on a galvanized roof the hubbub of traffic the roar of a train the .... of traffic .... in vain When reciting this poem, your voice should get louder with each sentence. I'm afraid my mind has now come to a blank and cannot finish it off. Who can?

I always loved the Rubayat of Omar Khayyam, (the bohemian's bible) and can still recall a few verses:- Here with a loaf of bread beneath the bough, A flask of wine, a book of verse, and thou Beside me signing in the winderness And wilderness is paradise anow. Tis but a chequer board of nights and days Where destiny with men for pieces plays: Hither and thither moves and mates and slays And one by one back in the closet lays. The moving finger writes and, having writ, moves on Nor all thy piety nor wit shall lure it back to cancel half a line Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it. Kathy

:-)) :-)) So that's two of us!! Norah

lianne, :-))

i also remember this one (lol) but i have no idea who the author is. My Forgetter My forgetter's getting better But my rememberer is broke To you that may seem funny But to me it is no joke. For when I'm "here" I'm wondering If i really should be "there" And, when I try to think it through, I haven't got a prayer! Often times I walk into a room, Say "what am i here for?" I wrack my brain, but all in vain A zero, is my score. At times I put something away Where it is safe, but Gee! The person it is safest from Is, generally, me! When shopping I may meet someone Say "Hi!" and have a chat, Then, when that person walks away I ask myself "who the heck was that?" Yes, my forgetter's getting better While my rememberer is broke, And it's driving me plumb crazy And that isn't any joke right everyone - how many of you wil own up to identifying with this poem lol lianne

i was in 6th year at secondary school when i read this poem - it haunted me so much that i spent half the lesson copying it out so that i could take it home Prayer Before Birth - Louise MacNiece I am not yet born; O' hear me. Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat or the club-footed ghoul come near me. I am not yet born; console me. I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me, With strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me, On black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me. I am not yet born; provide me. With water to dandle me, grass to grow for me, trees to talk to me, Sky to sing to me, birds and a white light In the back of my mind to guide me. I am not yet born; forgive me. For the sins that in me the world shall commit, My words when they speak me, my thoughts when they think me, My treason engendered by traitors beyond me, My life when they murder by means of my hands, My death when they live me. I am not yet born; O' hear me Let not the man who is beat or thinks he is God Come near me. I am not yet born; O' fill me With strength against those who would freeze my humanity, Would dragoon me into a lethal automaton, Would cog me in a machine, A thing with one face, a thing against all those Who would dissipate my entirety, Would blow me like thistledown Hither and thither or hither and thither Like water held in the hands Would spill me. Let them not me me a stone and let them not spill me. Otherwise kill me. enjoy lianne

I remember writing this out at primary school for a handwriting competeion - soooo many times: All along the backwater, Through the rushes tall, Ducks are a-dabbling, Up tails all! Ducks' tails, drakes' tails, Yellow feet a-quiver, Yellow bills all out of sight Busy in the river! Slushy green undergrowth Where the roach swim- Here we keep our larder Cool and full and dim! Every one for what he likes! We like to be Heads down, tails up, Dabbling free! High in the blue above Swifts whirl and call- We are down a-dabbling Up tails all! Ducks Ditty by Kenneth Grahame, 1859-1932 Heatha.

Molly This website has the complete poem Daffodils and lots of others. http://www(.)bartleby(.)com/101/530(.)html I went there to find the rest of the poem! Sue