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turtletwo

Do you like poetry?

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:th_wave:Do you like poetry? Anyone who likes songs in essence does because lyrics are really poems set to music. :)Poetry is a big part of my life. God gave me the gift to write when I was 11 years old. I've tried to use it to be a blessing to others...to encourage the hurting, witness to the lost and always to the praise and glory of the Lord. The point of this thread is to find out who my brothers and sisters are at Worthy who enjoy poetry...who reads it and who writes it. Hope to meet you.

P.S. You are all invited to check out Songs Of Praise Poetry Club. 6 members so far. I've posted lyrics of 2 favorite songs and shared 2 original poems. More to come. One is below in the next post.

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This is a poem I wrote on 6-29-18
It was inspired by the pretty summer surroundings
and especially the sounds that were so serene.

God's Orchestra


There is music in creation
that no band could ever play

The chorus of the robin song,

The trees that gently sway
from breezes rustling
through their leaves,

The babbling of the brook;

God's orchestra is playing
and it's everywhere I look.

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I was 12 when I wrote this poem on unrequited love.  I entered it in a poetry contest, but I lost and my loss destroyed my aspirations as a poet   So I quit writing poems.  Sigh!

My heart is broken

at the very thought

that Thou hast spoken

of our love as naught.

Our sharp-edged story

has etched in my mold

mem'ries of thy glory

encased in pure gold.

Charms of other girls

Cannot cast thy spell.

So I shed most pearls

to our sweet farewell.

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On 7/4/2018 at 2:58 AM, MadHermit said:

I was 12 when I wrote this poem on unrequited love.  I entered it in a poetry contest, but I lost and my loss destroyed my aspirations as a poet   So I quit writing poems.  Sigh!

My heart is broken

at the very thought

that Thou hast spoken

of our love as naught.

Our sharp-edged story

has etched in my mold

mem'ries of thy glory

encased in pure gold.

Charms of other girls

Cannot cast thy spell.

So I shed most pearls

to our sweet farewell.

Don't give up. Poetry contests are tough to win, I'm told. I think you're being too hard on yourself. :consoling2:

As to this poem, I really like the first 4 lines. Very mature for a 12 year old! I've heard that age 12 is typically only a time of first crushes and puppy love for most kids. :teeth_smile: Just curious...what inspired you to write in an old English style?

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Hello there,

I am not a poetry writer, but wrote this one day when trying to show my grandson, then aged seven, how to begin to write a poem for his school project. I told him to just look out of his bedroom window and write down what he saw.

The View From My Window
 

When I stand upon a chair 
and look outside my window,
I see a view that is broad and long,
With a breadth of sky that would inspire a song,
Green fields, woodland, sea and ships,
and places to eat fish and chips!

Power station chimneys, and dockland sprawl
Dawn upon my vision barely at all,
These are all distant and covered with haze
And do not injure my dreaming gaze.
Tankers and sailing ships, Oh, yes! I see those.
Binoculars at the ready, standing on my toes.

The length and breadth of the clear blue sky, 
Lift my spirit when I want to cry.
Causes me to think of distant horizons
The people who inhabit other environs.
That life does not consist of constantly doing, but being,
All that is encapsulated in what I am seeing.

The love of my family
The care that they show,
Even if I only stub my toe,
Matters more than the trappings of luxury fair
All that concerns me is that they are there.

-----------------

*Thank you for inviting me along, @turtletwo. It was difficult to find.
Within the love of Christ our Saviour.
Chris

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*I wrote this too, after reading a poem by Wordsworth, about a woman who waited longingly for news of a long lost son.  It had belonged to someone else, who had obviously used it as part of a study of English literature, for it was much marked with notes and jottings.

The Treasury of Thoughts Expressed.

I have been reading through an old book,
much studied and marked by another's hand,
and within it's pages, old and worn,
found thoughts which have humbled me 
and caused me to consider.

Written long ago by a skilled hand,
and a mind tutored by quiet contemplation,
making me aware of all that I have to be thankful for
The ability to see, to hear, to smell and taste,
To appreciate the beauty all around me.

To hear from a loved one in an instant, 
by telephone or text, not having to wait 
for the written word, delivered by man's hand, 
and dependent upon another's feet, 
treading the miles to reach my door. 

Yet, how much more beloved those lines would be
To someone whose heart's longing depended 
on it's delivery, for news of a loved one's state, 
the passage of their days, their thoughts and emotions
whether they lived or died!

How grateful I am for sight and sound, 
for a loved one’s voice heard on a land line.
as I read of that time gone by, when invention 
had not found such aids to communication 
bringing instant gratification and assurance

Yet the lessons that such experience afforded 
to those who lived within those times, 
the waiting and the longing, the wringing of hands,
brought patience and endurance and deeper joy surely,
peace of mind more profound when finally satisfied. 

6th June 2017

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* Lines from the following poem were quoted at the head of a chapter in a book I was reading:  and I felt they perfectly expressed a moment in my life when I could have fallen into ruin, but for the grace of God.

'Thou Blind Man's Mark’
by Sir Phillip Sidney

Thou blind man's mark, thou fool's self chosen snare,
Fond fancy's scum, and dregs of scatter'd thought,
Band of all evils, cradle of causeless care,
Thou web of will, whose end is never wrought.

Desire, desire I have too dearly bought,
With price of mangled mind thy worthless ware,
Too long, too long asleep thou hast me brought,
Who should my mind to higher things prepare.

But yet in vain thou hast my ruin sought,
In vain thou madest me to vain things aspire,
In vain thou kindlest all thy smoky fire.

For virtue hath this better lesson taught,
Within myself to seek my only hire:
Desiring nought but how to kill desire.
--------------

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* I get accused of spending for too long on the computer, and this funny little poem appealed to me:-

 

The Computer Swallowed Grandma'

The computer swallowed grandma
Yes, honestly its true
She pressed 'control' and 'enter'
And disappeared from view.

It devoured her completely
The thought just makes me squirm
She must have caught a 'virus'
Or been eaten by a 'worm.'

I've searched through the 'recycle bin'
And files of every kind
I've even used the 'Internet'
But nothing did I find.

In desperation, I asked Jeeves
My searches to refine
The reply from him was negative
Not a thing was found 'online.'

So if inside your 'Inbox'
My Grandma you should see
Please 'Copy,' 'Scan' and 'Paste' her
And send her back to me!

- Author Unknown -

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Posted (edited)

* I wrote this little piece about my husband:-

A Husbands love is very precious,
More precious than I could know,
When young and newly married
I made the marriage vow.

I would ask, 'do you love me?'
Of a man not used to display.
I did not know that His sure love
Wasn't shown in what He'd say.

His love is real, but practical,
Shown in little deeds done,
In working daily to provide
To secure our future and abide.

How shallow my understanding then,
How very appreciative now,
Age has brought awareness 
Of my need but also of his supply.

Chris

Edited by Christine
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* A poem from childhood, obviously not mine, but author not known.

‘Said the Robin to the Sparrow,
“I should really like to know
Why these anxious human beings
Rush about and worry so.”

Said the Sparrow to the Robin
“Friend, I think that it must be,
That they have no Heavenly Father
Such as cares for you and me.’

 

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