Poetry : One from another, one from yourself

[Fluidic Kimbo]

FIRST AMMENDMENT TO RULES - 30 June 2020:
If it is your turn to post a poem of your own, but you want to post a poem from another person, then you must first forfeit your turn with a photograph from nature and explain why you like the photograph. Similarly, if it is your turn to post a poem from another person, and you want to post a poem of your own, then you must first forfeit you turn with a photograph of modern technology and explain why you like the photograph.

The rules for this thread are as follows:
- The first poem you share must be from another person
- The second poem you share must be from yourself
- See first ammendment above

There is no restriction on language or age.

If you share a third, or fourth, or fifth poem, you must alternate between a poem from another to a poem from yourself, ad infinitum.

My first poem is a poem called "Subh Milis" by Máirtín Ó Díreáin. English translation of title: "Sweet Jam".

Bhi subh milis
Ar bhaschrann an dorais
Ach mhuach mé an corraí
Ionam a d'éirigh
Mar smaoinigh mé ar an lá
A bheas an baschrann glan
Agus an lámh beag
Ar iarraidh

English translation:

There was sweet jam
On the door handle
But I quenched the fury
That arose within me
Because I thought of the day
When the door handle would be clean
And the little hand would be gone

[Fluidic Kimbo]

And a poem from myself which I wrote tonight. I took inspiration from the poem spoken in the film, "The Miseducation of Cameron Post", on which my screen name is based.

My poem is entitled, "Strength":

It is at my weakest points that I am strong

It is in my weakness I find my greatest strength
Were I not so weak, would I not be so bravely strong?

In my infirmities I am weak --
In my ignorance and incompetence
True weakness lies in my worried and defeated mind
Deep inside my weak and worried mind
Is where I am strong.

And so I relish in my shortcomings
I boast of my cowardice and indecisiveness
For it is this indecisiveness that chooses me to be weak
And it is my choice that when I am weak, I feel strong

Overturning verdicts and sentences within and inside myself
Overturning and turning and turning and turning
Inside out a decade of non-achievement
Weak hopes
Weak dreams
Weak aspirations

I lay and immerse in this putrid fresh weakness
-- weakness that I defiantly call mine

Because it is that I am weak;
It is for this purpose
And by this very design
That my weakness is strength

[Cuz]

I see you’re back in full swing eh?

[Fluidic Kimbo]

I see you’re back in full swing eh?

I've held back on some of the new threads I was tempted to create. The Bahamas were nice, but 5 weeks a long time to be away. I might go the whole hog though and start posting mad shit.

[Capebuffalo]

I've held back on some of the new threads I was tempted to create. The Bahamas were nice, but 5 weeks a long time to be away. I might go the whole hog though and start posting mad shit.

I wouldn’t suggest going to crazy.

[almostgone]

I've held back on some of the new threads I was tempted to create. The Bahamas were nice, but 5 weeks a long time to be away. I might go the whole hog though and start posting mad shit.

Don't, just please.... don't. Thanks!

[SampsonandDelilah]

It’s been a little nutty while you were gone, especially in the lounge. Happy to have you back, please help just keep the peace and keep everything in moderation. We all need it

Sanity is free....


(Nice poems)

[Fluidic Kimbo]

W. B. Yeats wrote a poem entitled "Among School Children". The poem is quite long and has eight stanzas, but I will just give the eighth stanza:

Labour is blossoming or dancing where
The body is not bruised to pleasure soul,
Nor beauty born out of its own despair,
Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.
O chestnut tree, great rooted blossomer,
Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?

[BG]

You will be banned again.

I've held back on some of the new threads I was tempted to create. The Bahamas were nice, but 5 weeks a long time to be away. I might go the whole hog though and start posting mad shit.

[Fluidic Kimbo]

You will be banned again.

I'm currently on a run of 570 posts without a ban. This a good run.

[Fluidic Kimbo]

I wrote this poem today, entitled "Between Empty Space":

I am the item
that sits between empty space

I am neither matter, nor dark matter

I am neither collected, nor nebulous

There is empty space between anti-matter and matter
in the moments before annihilation --
And as the two collide. . .
As the empty space is eradicated. . .
I am that item between the empty space

I am the vacuum, I am the draw, I am the attractor

I at the very item itself which is the annihilation

[Fluidic Kimbo]

I wrote this one just now. The title is taken from Hitler's autobiography, "Mein Kampf" = "My Fight". Also I have taken inspiration from Rachel Platten's song entitled, "Fight Song".

My poem is entitled, "Mein Kampf", and I repeat the German sentence throughout, "Das ist mein Kampfgedicht" = "This is my fight poem".

Mein Kampf

Das ist mein Kampfgedicht

This is my fight poem
-- the expression of my unwillingness
to accept my condition

Das ist mein Kampfgedicht

This is my fight poem
-- the telling of my plight
the sharing of my inexactness

Ich zeige dir mein Kampfgedicht
Ich teile meinen Kampf mit dir
I show you my fight poem
I share with you my fight

What will come to me
will depart from me
What will collide with me
will deflect from me
What will enter me
will exit me
Forces come in pairs
as negativity is met with resistance
-- my resistance

My elastic heart scrunches
and springs as it absorbs outside forces

Das ist mein Kampfgedicht

This is my fight poem
My refusal is my weapon
My rejection is my power
My choice is my freedom

Incoming, outgoing
Acceptance, refusal
The flesh is mortal and weak
But my soul is determined and resolute

Beginning to end
Start to Finish
Alpha to omega
Aquaintance to Marriage to Death

Das ist mein Kampfgedicht.

[JaneDoe]

There comes a time when it is no longer said: my God.
Absolute clearance time.
Time when it is no longer said: my love.
Because love turned out to be useless.
And the eyes do not cry.
And the hands weave only the rough work.
And the heart is dry.

In vain women knock on the door, you will not open.
You were alone, the light went out,
but in the shade your eyes shine brightly.
You are all sure, you no longer know how to suffer.
And you expect nothing from your friends.

Never mind old age, what is old age?
Your shoulders support the world
and it weighs no more than a child's hand.
Wars, famines, discussions within buildings
just prove that life goes on
and not everyone is free yet.
Some, finding the spectacle barbaric
they would rather (the delicate ones) die.
There is a time that dying does not worth it.
There came a time when life is an order.
Life only, without mystification.

[Fluidic Kimbo]

Is that one of your own, Davimeireles?

[Tovarasu]

This is not mine, its from a song but i find it incredibile.
I see you
You see me
How pleasant
This feeling
The moment
You hold me
I missed you
I'm sorry
I've given
What I have
I showed you
I'm growing
The ashes
Fall slowly
As your voice
Consoles me
As the hours pass
I will let you know
That I need to ask
Before I'm alone
How it feels to rest
On your patient lips
To eternal bliss
I'm so glad to know
We're swaying
To drum beats
In motion
I'm feeling
My patience
Controlling
The question
I won't speak
We're telling
The stories
Our laughter
He knows me
We're leaving
We're talking
You're closer
It's calming
As the hours pass
I will let you know
That I need to ask
Before I'm alone
How it feels to rest
On your patient lips
To eternal bliss
I'm so glad to know
The night will hold us close and the stars will guide us home…

[JaneDoe]

Is that one of your own, Davimeireles?

Yeah bro.

[JaneDoe]

I get up every day and decide to shut up.
Yes, from everyone who doubts my ability.
Why, if I don't make it worth it now.
What will become of my life?
Between stormy thoughts someone anti-defeat is born.
Who cut himself off from the world of false people, to be who he dreamed of being.
Among the steel, my spirit gets stronger.
Between the bench press my life changes every day


By Davi