National Poetry Day!

I thought that we could celebrate today,
and everyone can have their say,
so come on join in if you have the time,
but everything you put has to rhyme!
Becky

Oh, no, I can't do a rhyme
tonight I just don't have the time,
soon we're off with Jack to agility
to make him perfect is our objectivity

Ok you lot groan away
that's the best I can do today.

Thanks for doing this and replying to me,
In rhyme, so everyone else can see,
You may not had time but I think your ditty.
actually turned out to be rather witty!
Becky

Im no poet.. but I love this one written by Joyce Kilmer-

Trees
(For Mrs. Henry Mills Alden)

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
- Joyce Kilmer

My other fav by Longfellow.....
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 1807–1882

The Day is Done

THE DAY is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village 5
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain, 10
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling, 15
And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time. 20

For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet, 25
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease, 30
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction 35
That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice. 40

And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.

Everything must rhyme I said we should do
but here is my favourite poem from me to you!

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe

Becky

I only know one poem about a man from nantucket who had a very large appendage

Yeah, I know that one as well, DON'T post it.

Whe I awoke this mornin,
When all new things are born,
A robin perched upon my sill.
to greet the coming dawn.

The bird was fragile young and gay,
and sweetly did it sing.
A thaught of happiness and joy,
into my heart did spring.

It filled my heart with gladness,
it filled my heart with need,
So I gently closed the window,
and crushed it's little heid.

Would I?

Here is one I was given when storm died.

IF IT SHOULD BE

If it should be that I grow weak
And pain should keep me from my sleep,
Then you must do what must be done,
For this last battle cannot be won.

You will be sad, I understand.
Don't let your grief then stay your hand.
For this day, more than all the rest,
Your love for me must stand the test.

We've had so many happy years.
What is to come can hold no fears.
You'd not want me to suffer so;
The time has come -- please let me go.

Take me where my need they'll tend,
And please stay with me till the end.
Hold me firm and speak to me,
until my eyes no longer see.

I know in time that you will see
the kindness that you did for me.
Although my tail its last has waved,
from pain and suffering I've been saved.

Please do not grieve -- it must be you
who had this painful thing to do.
We've been so close, we two, these years;
don’t let your heart hold back its tears.