A letter to someone

I'm writing this letter to someone
to let them know that I'm still alive.
By the time that I've completed it
my memory might just have arrived.

I'll put up with rheumatoid arthritis
but dentures have to go they're to white.
My wife (is she?)said they look awful
and Rover agrees he's cowering in fright.

Bifocals are an option my opticain says
but the earing aid made my earing worse.
I'm slowly losing my grey matter
who the hecks writing this verse?

I went upstairs intending to change
I'm was sat there in my dressing gown.
Was I standing at the foot of the stairs
because, I don't remember coming down.

If I have to go upstairs for something
I don't know whether I've been.
I've no idea if I've come from there
It makes me feel like I want to SCREAM.

We called in the bank yesterday
standing there waiting my mind full of doubt
I asked my wife have we paid something in
or have we drawn something out?

Its dark outside is time to retire?
or have I just got out of bed?
I know I'm sat here in my dressing gown
oh sod it! I'll make breakfast instead.

I think I wrote to you yesterday
If I didn't and thought I did don't be cross.
The wife bless her says I get in a muddle
shes just being kind, ITS BLOODY CHAOS.

DCM 2009

If anyone has poetry they want to post ...they can anytime they want here ....I'd love to.read it

Not a word spoken, you healed this heart that had been broken.
Your eyes ignited a passion
your words warmed my soul and once again I feel whole.

- Bexsy

The original was in Dutch, so the English translation may not rhyme or flow well, but it's a great message:

I am at my best at five to twelve
when I feel I have no choice
I sometimes get annoyed about this
but it often works out surprisingly well
With the water up to my lips
I can suddenly do a lot
I never thought I could
It's a reassuring feeling

Come on with all your plans and lies
See how far you can go
We will stay calm
But when you think we are defeated
You are wrong
We will wait until five before twelve

So dump your rubbish in the sea
Plunder half the continents
Buy power with all your money
Divide the people into two
Cut the rainforest into pieces
Force the opposition into silence
Keep threatening the judges
Suppress the artists all you want
Please the fascists by agreeing with them
Finance the war
Slaughter millions of animals every day
Spray your poison across the fields
Blame the innocent
Let the poorest pay
Give us lies and stories
in which crooked becomes straight

Push us slowly to the edge
see how far you can go
Keep on dreaming out loud of a scared and petty country
take us towards the ravine
See how far you can stretch this

One day you will discover
what kind of people we are
Because what you bend will one day
bounce back into your face
So subject us to your test
and when you think "I have won"
we know it has only just begun
because at five to twelve
we are at our best

Forget romantic love . It's fleeting ...

Give me real love everyday all day
Give me the kind of love that knows all your dark secrets and loves you anyway. Loves you with flaws. Loves you in your dark moments . That kind of love never wavers . It never quits on you .

I put this one on a different thread in case it was too dark and sarcastic for this very positive post!

https://similarworlds.com/reading/read/book-lovers-corner/5180268-A-very-dark-but-very-funny-Christmas-poem

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

From The Poems of Dylan Thomas
Dylan Marlais Thomas, born October 27, 1914,

This one is about my love for carbs

Snow Storm

Tumult, weeping, many new ghosts.
Heartbroken, aging, alone, I sing
To myself. Ragged mist settles
In the spreading dusk. Snow skurries
In the coiling wind. The wineglass
Is spilled. The bottle is empty.
The fire has gone out in the stove.
Everywhere men speak in whispers.
I brood on the uselessness of letters.

Tu Fu
translated by Kenneth

“I shall from hence forth rather be myself.”

Shakespeare, Henry V

Watch from the tree you are perched upon .
Watch the lives in ruins as they flee
Watch them in disbelief
Watch as they all wither and die
Call their name and fly
Fly back to where you came from
Back to your safe and hollowed home
Back to where you keep your treasures and are all alone .

I have a few....

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

Emily Dickenson -

Also this from Phantom of the opera, which I think is sort of copied from Romeo and Juliet but more concise in a way:

"Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor. Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender. Turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light, and listen to the music of the night... Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams, purge your thoughts of the life you knew before. Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar, and live, as you never lived before!”

The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost (1874-1963)
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by TS Eliot..you wouldn't thank me if I posted the whole thing

Another Sylvia Plath one

"This Is Just To Say" by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

I have oh so many, even some I wrote.

But I'll share this one..

"If I could;
envelop the sky, salt air
with line I've writ
soothe ire with lip
and gift the contents to your heart
if I could;
flirt the light...bring the shadow glooming home,
stay the agony of the daffodil
in it's spectral crest alight
then might you see...
I love and loved you more
That I would have wreaked all nature
to show you are lighter, lovelier."

~Samuel Hurley

Onegin and many other short poems.

Addiction was never the problem, it was an attempt to solve a problem -Gabor Matè-

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

e.e. cummings

So many to choose from, but one is certainly Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird. Here is the final stanza, which perfectly captures this time of year.

XIII

It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.

I love Sylvia Plath

Emily Dickinson

I have
I'll give you first and last verse and who wrote it
Down by the sally garden my love and I did meet

But I being young and foolish and now I'm full of tears
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Roses are red
That part is true
But violets are purple
Not f-cking blue