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I read the Matthew Arnold poem.  I only skimmed most of it.. but I made sense of what I actively concentrated on. 

 

I was struck by the similarity in sentiment that much of it had to:

 

Do not go gentle into that good night

Dylan Thomas - 1914-1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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.

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Just got back from QMC again........the last eight days have been a bit Traumatic to say the least,,...blood tests,,X-rays,,and today a visit to a Consultant........cut a long story short......problem

Result........CT Scans all clear......just got letter..been sweating for a fortnight......

Two years ago today..........my life changed forever,,,about this time i was on my way down to the operating theatre for what turned out to be a ten hour operation...........its been life changing in

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I wandered lonely, I'm not proud,

To be excluded from the crowd,

I think my socks may give a clue,

I whiff them and exclaim "Oh Pheww!"

 

I guess my odour is abhorred,

By those who'd otherwise applaud,

They'll come around.. approve methinks..

Should I secure a can of Lynx.

 

Once so equipped I'll do no wrong,

And I'll eschew that horrid pong,

My presence will be peace and light,

As I'll no longer smell of .. *****

 

Subject matter might be a bit iffy.. but I think it scans rather well... :laugh:

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Nonna,  I’ve just watched the video with English subtitles and really enjoyed it.  Thank you for that.

 

Col, your poem is very good - well composed and funny!

The Arnold poem and the one by Dylan Thomas that you quoted were both written about their respective fathers.  
I’ve  never written a poem about my father, only about my mum.... I think it was she who had the biggest influence on my life.

 

Oz, Matthew Arnold’s father was the head master of Rugby school from 1828, hence the poem about Rugby Chapel.

 

Jill, I  know more about Arnold’s poems than Hardy’s - perhaps I need to have a deeper look!

 

 

 

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Love DJs poem ! He must have attended the Pam Ayres school of Higher poetic prose.

We are in the presence of Masters, ( wonder if Compo had a hand in it?). Thank Margie for awakening the poetic licence in us. I am now going to skip through the daffodils and play my Pan pipes.:rolleyes:

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Went to see dr this morning and hes written me an impegnativa to see an orthopedic, the appointment is Monday . So quick, its the same dr that my husband has for his hip replacement. 

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Change of subject....

Happy Emerald Anniversary, Mary 1947 !!

 

Once knew a girl called Mary,

Who's voice was like a fairy,

A friend of mine

For whom I'd pine,

But now I'm getting dreary.

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Thanks  Beekay for your poems,

 

Here's one that my dad used to say,

 

Mary had a little  lamb

It had a sooty foot 

and! in-to Marys bed and jam

it put it's sooty foot.

 

another 

Piggy on the railway

picking up stone's

down came an engine 

and broke piggies bones

are !! said "Piggy thats not fair"

are! said the engine "

"I don't Care"

 

Don't give up the day job.

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Ode to Mary......after Phil,

"I didnt see her bear,

Though standing almost near,

When I told her,

She said, " I'll  scold yer"

So I buggered outa there.

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THERE IS A SPECIAL POETRY THREAD

here in Nottstalgia seldom read.

The poets who wrIte the odes on here

should find it, so they can make clear

their thoughts on there and all can say

”Better on here than in ‘How’s your day”

 

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OK MargieH point taken

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Phil and I, were walking by,

To look into his field, 

We want to know,

What he could grow,

And what the crop would yield.

 

I knew a pal called Ben,

Not seen since I were ten,

We went to school

And then played pool,

But only now and then.

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How's my day?

I dare not say!

Lest for my sins I'm sent away,

To Poet's Corner,

Be that where it may,

To write obscurely, far away,

It's not just Politics that's banished,

It now seems verse must also vanish!

So, no more will I post my rhymes,

In 'How's Your Day'..

Oh! what dark times..

 

:wacko::rulez: :laugh:

 

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I went to visit Beekay

It was a lengthy trip

But as he lives close by the sea

We went and had a dip.

He showed his painted milk churns

His artistry displayed.

I ask him where he got them

He said he knew a maid.

 

She took them from the dairy

Whilst farmer wasn’t looking

And offered them to BK

 

Make up the rest yourselves!

 

 

 

 

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