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My First Poem
My First Poem
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow mortal!
I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!
Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's win's ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!
Thou saw the fields laid bare an waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.
That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!
But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain
For promised joy!
Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho I canna see,
I guess an' fear!
11/8/2005 4:28 pm
I love old and middle English, but I'll admit I don't have a complete grasp of it yet. You have a wonderful grasp of both the language and rhythm of the poetry of that era. I wish I had the creativity and the talent to compose such things, but I'm afraid I'm confined to just enjoying others work in this field.
Here's an anonymous 14th century poem that I fell in love with in grade 8, memorized and have never forgotten:
The Twa Corbies
As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t'other say,
"Where sall we gang and dine today?"
"In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.
"His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's ta'en another mate,
So we may mak our dinner sweet.
"Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pike out his bonny blue een;
Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.
"Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken where he is gane;
O'er his white banes, when they are bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair."
I love how dark they were in their composition and topics, and that they were so plainly truthfull about it.
Hopefully you will grace us with more poetry soon!
11/19/2005 4:55 am
Hi, welcome to blog!|
Are you aware there is a new group created for bloggers and their readership to meet and frolic in the chat room? (A place for serious discussion as well)
A group where interesting blog posts will be “spot-lighted” along with the links of how to get there. A place where new kids on the block can actually get seen as well as the predominant “hierarchy”.
A place where ideas can flow--from suggested blog topics, to writing "critiques", to directions on how to better use the elements of color, photos, and font style/size to make your blog more eye appealing; as well as instructions on how to better use linking to other posts.
Being that this is an adult site, we will also have a group post running where writers and their followers can indicate where they're from so maybe you might actually be able to meet some folk "local" to you.
Flirtatious banter is encouraged--crude obscene assaults will not be tolerated and are subject to deletion.
So...Stop in and have a little fun over your cup o' joe!
Here is a link to the group Blog Cafe, look forward to meeting you there!