analysing poems

badaksumbu

by Antoinette Kopperfield
Wednesday, February 04, 2004

I am but, a vessel
of mere words struck by emotions-
I try hard to get exposed
to the vast sunlight of life-
as my soul reaches out for love...

I found sorrow in deep places-
underneath my skin
and it was scattered-
behind old graves of unforgiveness
and it left me beneath...cries for hope

I too, like yourself
desire finer things...
Like pretty rainbows with steps-
or blue skies with open windows
Shining endlessly卽pon my soul

I shall reach for stars...now attainable
I have put them in my pocket-
and I walk with their brightness-
and I shall sing you songs along the way
with happy endings

badaksumbu

Poem: To My Wife - With A Copy Of My Poems

I can write no stately proem
As a prelude to my lay;
From a poet to a poem
I would dare to say.

For if of these fallen petals
One to you seem fair,
Love will waft it till it settles
On your hair.

And when wind and winter harden
All the loveless land,
It will whisper of the garden,
You will understand...

seribulan

by Antoinette Kopperfield
Wednesday, February 04, 2004 (future date nih)

I am but, a vessel
of mere words struck by emotions-
I try hard to get exposed
to the vast sunlight of life-
as my soul reaches out for love...
=only a poor person trying to better himself

I found sorrow in deep places-
underneath my skin
and it was scattered-
behind old graves of unforgiveness
and it left me beneath...cries for hope
=done some misdeeds which have not been forgiven

I too, like yourself
desire finer things...
Like pretty rainbows with steps-
or blue skies with open windows
Shining endlessly卽pon my soul
=wanted wealth too
I shall reach for stars...now attainable
I have put them in my pocket-
and I walk with their brightness-
and I shall sing you songs along the way
with happy endings

seribulan

cilok Ninoz..cam ko gak...hehehe...

Untitled

today everything
is earnest and hushed.
As the death of a queen
when the radio changes from light music
to mozart or bach.
I dont know why.
Since she isn't listening.
Ican almost see
how people leave
how people leave
each other, how silence
works in the fading fabrics
and how the solitary
gray wasp gropes its away
into uts death sleep
in the wound of the dry mountain tree.

                           - Lars Noren

seribulan

it may not always be so;and i say

it may not always be so;and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another's,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not fara away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be,i say if this should be--
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
                            - e.e. cummings

seribulan

nih cam dah ada jer???

If

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn't a lie,
Life would be delight,--
But things couldn't go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn't be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I'd be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn't be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,--
Yet they'd all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn't be we.

                           - e.e. cummings

badaksumbu

last come, 1st served...

poem ni mmg cam dah ada, tapi bila belek2 semua pages, takde nampak pulak...


ok, my interpretation...

If

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn't a lie,
Life would be delight,--
But things couldn't go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn't be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I'd be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn't be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,--
Yet they'd all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn't be we.

                           - e.e. cummings

learn to accept things just the way they are, they might seem not so perfect, but they contibute to the complete/perfect circle of life...:stp::stp:

[ Last edited by badaksumbu on 21-2-2004 at 11:59 AM ]

badaksumbu

bukan tak nak analyze, tapi kepala berselirat dgn wayar letrik...nanti la yek...

seribulan

kasik la poems....camna Bulan lak
nak buat interpretasi???

badaksumbu

apsal tak cakap awal2...

ni dia...

I AM NO STRANGER TO THESE PEOPLE

I am no stranger to these people but we walk as ghosts
Down the long dryness of our lives
Where the sunshine of children throws up the shadows of our souls
And the calling of birds makes empty mockery of our speech,
Echoing with the chill wind round the still houses.

I am no stranger to these people
But we have nothing to say
And the smiles on our faces freeze in brief salutation
As our minds stay numb
And we walk on by...

badaksumbu

satu lagi...

Young Chime of Seven (A nice Poem)

Misty eyes reflect your hidden sadness
look into the eyes of an innocent chime
less of seven years of age
pity, you are not the same
you cannot feel...

She dances about, playing
berry orchards float on the wind
sea wind crashes softly against her ears
she listens to the Song of Nature
whispering back, free

Clouds do envelop her mind
clouding her youthful grace
she does stumble, causing abrasions
she cries "Be gone, Dark"
and it creeps away

Feel her ginger stride, flicker independence
a young sprite with anticipation
asperation, admiration
likeleness of a flower's center; golden; bright
stay shining child...

[ Last edited by badaksumbu on 4-3-2004 at 01:55 PM ]

badaksumbu

n one more...

The Rose in the Deeps of his Heart
by William Butler Yeats

All things uncomely and broken,
all things worn-out and old,
The cry of a child by the roadway,
the creak of a lumbering cart,

The heavy steps of the ploughman,
splashing the wintry mould,
Are wronging your image that blossoms
a rose in the deeps of my heart.

The wrong of unshapely things
is a wrong too great to be told;
I hunger to build them anew
and sit on a green knoll apart,

With the earth and the sky and the water,
remade, like a casket of gold
For my dreams of your image that blossoms
a rose in the deeps of my heart...

ok...see ya...

[ Last edited by badaksumbu on 4-3-2004 at 02:26 PM ]

seribulan

Originally posted by badaksumbu at 4/3/04 01:17 PM:
apsal tak cakap awal2...

ni dia...

I AM NO STRANGER TO THESE PEOPLE

I am no stranger to these people but we walk as ghosts
Down the long dryness of our lives
Where the sunshine of childr ...

I see dead people:eek:

cam citer pasal spirit wandering kat
cemetery jer.....

seribulan

the two will be analysed after I came back
from camping...so deep la those two...I like...

badaksumbu

it may not always be so;and i say

it may not always be so;and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another's,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not fara away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be,i say if this should be--
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
                            - e.e. cummings

my interpretation on this one...

poet ni mcm tak percaya dgn relationship dia...saying that if his/her loved one should love another person, then he's/she's willing to back off...

[ Last edited by badaksumbu on 8-3-2004 at 11:33 AM ]

seribulan

aisey...nak intpret asyik lupa jer...
dah lama nih....dulu boleh keep track
sejak dah tukar wajah forem..susah...
tak leh dah...sori arr Bad...

badaksumbu

ada org rupanya...

takpe la...senang2 tu analyze la...

seribulan

alaa...lupa ajer..nih kasik poem
baru utk analyze dulu yek....

THE TAPESTRY OF HOPE

Threads of many colors intertwined within
A complex and diverse tapestry.
Seeking to unite the fabric by inclusiveness,
Vast arrays of shapes and textures, colors and sounds,
Thoughts and language of one World, one Humanity.
It is ours to make a peaceful dwelling place,
Only to be savored for the moment and then passed along
To the next generation of caretakers.
This sacred trust is for all to share
The magnificence of what is before us.
We have reveled in our uniqueness, our place in
The universe for far too long;
With Nature's revealed truth,
Man is but a strand in the web of life.

seribulan

The Awakening
   

  Keeping Truth as your guide and witness
Shout! shout to the top of your voice
let the iron curtain of darkness fall in fright
and awaken all Humanity. May the dawn spread its glory of Truth
across the lands and seas and into every living soul. Shake the Heavens!
let them know that truth will prevail.
Close the gates of Hell!
and slash evil across its wicked face. May we march towards a future
where love shall bind souls
and not to future
where Man's ignorance of Truth
shall feed upon death, hunger and poverty. Let us join hands in Global Brotherhood
and alas, dispense with the fact that today
Humanity is a lonesome wanderer upon a dark and sinister path.

Muhammed Jabbar (jihad)

seribulan

Thorns
   

  Thrown against a thorn bush he lies upon the ground,
grasping the grass with his fist his face is
contorted with agony,
his naked body struggling with the earth is shedding blood,
with every drop that oozes from his wounds they
are being sucked by thirsty earth. He cries out in despair! There is no one to hear him;
His cry echoes, but his voice gradually fades away;
it is dark, desolate and silent. As random thoughts run through his mind
of past love and brotherhood
but then of the future to be met with vengeance. Alas, the severity of the pain numbs his body and mind;
He falls into a deep sleep,
he is neither to be healed nor awakened,
he being the Human Conscience.

Muhammed Jabbar (jihad)