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Do you write poetry?
This is a thread for sharing and constructive criticism.
>Here's one I came up with:
> Some folk like latex
> Some like leather
> She gets off on Gore-Tex
> And inclement weather
I'll crack wide open and burst out,
break security of soil and sprout,
and if rain should fail I'll come about
from roots reaching deeper
I'll not reflect until I've died,
I live to create a world allied
around nature's powers magnified
for Earth is still our keeper
over and over, they rotate
blades catching the wind
pockets of air forming on one side
then pulling them toward it
though the wind presses against the front, threatening the motion
the force of the lift is stronger than the drag, this ceaseless push and pull
turning the rotor
over and over — to the pride of
the lone watcher who
had no hand in its construction
made no profit from its completion
for this monument
is as much their creation
as any of the scientists, engineers and construction workers
who came together
and built the future
but under this exposure
a thought, a fear, strange yet familiar
is brought to light
more and more
those who stand here
after they have left
and are long gone
will find these pillars
dulled
by the sculptors of progress
chiseling it down
into a foundation
for what is to come
and in time
what once was a beacon
is now a monument
in a world they were barely able to hold on to
the wrongs that were needed to right the future,
the injustices to those who were unjust
are to be the crimes they will never be punished for
the shame they will never have to bear
for no one will ever know
and in time
no one will even understand
what had to be done
for the future
and though it burned, scalding them
they laughed it off
they laughed it all off
because they knew
a paradise like this
can only be built
by people like them
and so
the blades are pushed on
against the wind
turning
over and over
a new chapter in our history
each a little brighter than the last
>A seasonal favorite of mine:
I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:—
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.
If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?
From the akathist hymn Glory to God for All Things:
O Lord, how lovely it is to be Thy guest. Breeze full of scents; mountains reaching to the skies; waters like boundless mirrors, reflecting the sun's golden rays and the scudding clouds. All nature murmurs mysteriously, breathing the depth of tenderness. Birds and beasts of the forest bear the imprint of Thy love. Blessed art thou, mother earth, in thy fleeting loveliness, which wakens our yearning for happiness that will last for ever, in the land where, amid beauty that grows not old, the cry rings out: Alleluia!
The breath of Thine Holy Spirit inspires artists, poets and scientists. The power of Thy supreme knowledge makes them prophets and interpreters of Thy laws, who reveal the depths of Thy creative wisdom. Their works speak unwittingly of Thee. How great art Thou in Thy creation! How great art Thou in man!
Glory to Thee, showing Thine unsurpassable power in the laws of the universe
Glory to Thee, for all nature is filled with Thy laws
Glory to Thee for what Thou hast revealed to us in Thy mercy
Glory to Thee for what Thou hast hidden from us in Thy wisdom
Glory to Thee for the inventiveness of the human mind
Glory to Thee for the dignity of man's labour
Glory to Thee for the tongues of fire that bring inspiration
Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age
What sort of praise can I give Thee? I have never heard the song of the Cherubim, a joy reserved for the spirits above. But I know the praises that nature sings to Thee. In winter, I have beheld how silently in the moonlight the whole earth offers Thee prayer, clad in its white mantle of snow, sparkling like diamonds. I have seen how the rising sun rejoices in Thee, how the song of the birds is a chorus of praise to Thee. I have heard the mysterious mutterings of the forests about Thee, and the winds singing Thy praise as they stir the waters. I have understood how the choirs of stars proclaim Thy glory as they move forever in the depths of infinite space. What is my poor worship! All nature obeys Thee, I do not. Yet while I live, I see Thy love, I long to thank Thee, and call upon Thy name.
Glory to Thee, giving us light
Glory to Thee, loving us with love so deep, divine and infinite
Glory to Thee, blessing us with light, and with the host of angels and saints
Glory to Thee, Father all-holy, promising us a share in Thy Kingdom
Glory to Thee, Redeemer Son, who hast shown us the path to salvation!
Glory to Thee, Holy Spirit, life-giving Sun of the world to come
Glory to Thee for all things, Holy and most merciful Trinity
Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age
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