Citatepedia^®.com

Death and Burial of Lord Tennyson

Alas! England now mourns for her poet that's gone-
The late and the good Lord Tennyson.
I hope his soul has fled to heaven above,
Where there is everlasting joy and love.

He was a man that didn't care for company,
Because company interfered with his study,
And confused the bright ideas in his brain,
And for that reason from company he liked to abstain.

He has written some fine pieces of poetry in his time,
Especially the May Queen, which is really sublime;
Also the gallant charge of the Light Brigade-
A most heroic poem, and beautifully made.

He believed in the Bible, also in Shakspeare,
Which he advised young men to read without any fear;
And by following the advice of both works therein,
They would seldom or never commit any sin.

[...] Read more

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

I Entreat You, Alfred Tennyson

I entreat you, Alfred Tennyson,
Come and share my haunch of venison.
I have too a bin of claret,
Good, but better when you share it.
Tho' 'tis only a small bin,
There's a stock of it within.
And as sure as I'm a rhymer,
Half a butt of Rudeheimer.
Come; among the sons of men is one
Welcomer than Alfred Tennyson?

poem by Walter Savage Landor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Leviathan: Far, Far Down In The Freezing Deeps

(after Alfred Lord Tennyson)

Far, far down in the freezing deeps
where icy water continually over it sweeps
its arms twirls and its body is like a mass of rock
where it for centuries sleeps

and in the dark world below
it lies like a prehistoric monster as if in its grave
while the waves and hidden streams over it flows
and above it break wave upon wave

where it is silent since the devastating flood
hardly notices the waters rush,
while very slowly flows its lifeblood
and it lays waiting in ambush

until the day that Michael returns to earth
to erupt above the waters as if coming from new birth
as a gigantic monstrous thing

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Odysseus: I Have Travelled Over the Raging Sea

I

I have travelled over the raging sea,
sat in the counsels of the greatest men, of famous kings
I have met disaster, havoc and the enemy,
helped open the gates of Troy, have seen many things

and now after my travels are done,
I live with an aging wife
the bravest of my men are gone
and somehow I still long for strive

but have only tranquillity
where I exercise righteous laws,
unto a heroic race that is both brave and free
and I long for danger while my life is at a pause,

before the darkness beacons me
to take the last journey.

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Speaking Of Love

SPEAKING OF LOVE

As soon as we have spoken of it,
we are doomed to earn
the love we crave, and come to covet
that for which we yearn.
There are consequences to
the words we speak: take care
to hold your tongue, for billets-doux
are often hard to tear.
Expressing what can’t be explained
may be more foolish than
unleashing dogs that should be chained
if things don’t go to plan.

Inspired by some lines from a poem by Mary Jo Salter which James Longenbach quoted, reviewing her book “A Phone Call to the Future” (“Formalities: Mary Jo Salter’s elegant poetry can hide eviscerating question, ” NYT Book Review, March 9,2008) :
Salter’s latest collection, “A Phone Call to the Future, ” offers severely winnowed selections from her previous five books along with an ample collection of new poems. What she has omitted is as revealing as what remains. While her first book, “Henry Purcell in Japan, ” is introduced here with a poised villanelle about King Lear’s daughters, it once began with a poem far more suggestive of Salter’s sensibility — a sensibility repulsed by gory images of the dead Jesus in a Catholic church, preferring to dwell in an aesthetic realm of pure spirit: “His wounds look fresh, but it’s not this sight / that shocks me so much as His man-made skin: / He’s waxen, slick as a mannequin.” This poem, “For an Italian Cousin, ” is cast in envelope rhyme (abba) , the form that Tennyson, most elegant of English poets, employed in his long elegy “In Memoriam.” Reading the elegy, Verlaine said that Tennyson had a lot of reminiscences when he should have been brokenhearted. Salter’s elegance feels similarly motivated by a distaste for the unseemly. But what makes Salter worth reading — what makes her stand apart from the merely polemical elegance of the New Formalism — is that she herself is appalled by this distaste. While many of her poems are burdened by a need to dispense wisdom (“love dooms us to earn / love once we can speak of it”) , her best are driven by a compulsion to confront the inexplicable. Her second collection, “Unfinished Painting, ” includes “Elegies for Etsuko, ” a long poem about a friend who committed suicide.
And now love’s pain, your curse,
is all I have. Forgive me... What worse

[...] Read more

poem by Gershon Hepner
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Amazon Jungle After Alfred Tennyson The Brook

By mangrove swamps I idle round,
my canopy's world wonder,
leafcutter ants beneath the ground
where three toed sloths would wander.

Tall forest Tarzan never knew
from ground grows great, colossal.
My ecosystem filters through
sward broadleaf basin fossil.

I wind about, and in and out,
with here a silted delta,
an anaconda round about
observes the helter-skelter.

Pass here and there a native hut
pirogues moored to lianas,
with cataracts which canyons cut
mid mangroves and bananas.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Drawing a Purple Blank Verse after Gelett BURGESS Purple Cow

DRAWING A PURPLE BLANK VERSE
Kindly refer to notes

I've never cowed to purple prose
know now I'll never write it,
for anyhow true writer knows
hand stretched finds critics bite it.

I've never wowed, and goodness knows
hacks lack the knack of versing,
won't bow, kowtow to backhand blows,
preferring role reverse_sing.

Ah, yes, I wrote on purple prose,
yet can't regret I penned it,
one far prefers rhyme's timeless flows,
no blush need rush defend it.

10 February 2009

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

If I had a single flower for every time I think about you, I could walk forever in my garden.

classic quote by Alfred Tennyson
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Spanish | In Romanian

The Talking Oak

Once more the gate behind me falls;
Once more before my face
I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls,
That stand within the chace.

Beyond the lodge the city lies,
Beneath its drift of smoke;
And ah! with what delighted eyes
I turn to yonder oak.

For when my passion first began,
Ere that, which in me burn'd,
The love, that makes me thrice a man,
Could hope itself return'd;

To yonder oak within the field
I spoke without restraint,
And with a larger faith appeal'd
Than Papist unto Saint.

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Love is the only gold.

quote by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!