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Rank: Member Joined: 8/8/2009 Posts: 171
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Quote:The Ballad of Eskimo Nell
The poem "Eskimo Nell" contains copious obscene language and will be offensive to many people who believe such material should not be published.
It is not recommended for young persons.
It is published here because of its well recognized literary quality.
As a Uni. student in the 1950s, I was told it was the the work of the noted English playwright and song-writer, Noel Coward.
I have no evidence for this though other references concur.
For more, click here.¡ʇɹoɟɟǝ ƃuıɟɟǝ ǝɥʇ ɹoɟ ɥɔnɯ os ؛uıɐʌ uı ɔıqɐɹɐ ƃuıuɹɐǝן pǝıɹʇ ı
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Rank: Elder Joined: 9/15/2006 Posts: 3,907
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Oh just picked up on a conversation online, between Wazua and two Wazuans (I think), that reminded me of this poem...
TO A MOUSE
Robert Burns, 1785
Tiny, sleek, cowering, fearful mouse,
O, what a panic is in your breast!
You need not start away so hasty,
With pattering noises!
I would be loath to run and chase you,
With my murdering spade!
I'm truly sorry that my world,
Has broken into your world,
And justifies your ill opinion of men,
Which makes you startle
At me, you poor, earth-born companion,
And fellow mortal!
I doubt not that at times you may steal;
What then? poor little animal, you must live!
An occasional ear of corn out of twenty-four sheaves
Is a small request;
I'll be blest with the rest of the corn,
And never miss the ear you took!
Your tiny house, too, in ruin!
Its fragile walls the winds are strewing!
And nothing, now, to build a new one,
Out of densely growing grass!
And bleak December's winds are following,
Both harsh and keen!
You saw the fields were bare and desolate,
And weary winter coming fast,
And cozy here, beneath the wind,
You thought to dwell—
Till crash! the cruel plowshare passed
Right through your cell.
That little heap of leaves and stubble,
Has cost you many a weary nibble!
Now you are turned out, for all your trouble,
Of house and home,
To endure the winter's sleety dribble,
And hoarfrost cold!
But, Mousie, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes of mice and men
Go often astray,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!
Still you are blest, compared with me
The present only touches you:
But, Oh! I backward cast my eye.
On prospects dreary!
And forward, though I cannot see,
I guess and fear!
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Rank: Elder Joined: 7/1/2011 Posts: 8,804 Location: Nairobi
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He who binds himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sun rise.
- William Blake - 'Eternity'
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Rank: Elder Joined: 7/1/2011 Posts: 8,804 Location: Nairobi
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What is it men in women do require?
The lineaments of gratified desire.
What is it women do in men require?
The lineaments of gratified desire.
- William Blake - 'A question answered'
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Rank: Elder Joined: 3/18/2011 Posts: 12,069 Location: Kianjokoma
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http://www.standardmedia...ie-takes-the-final-bow/
The Freedom SongAtieno washes dishes, Atieno plucks the chicken, Atieno gets up early, Beds her sacks down in the kitchen, Atieno eight years old, Atieno yo. Since she is my sister’s child Atieno needs no pay. While she works my wife can sit Sewing every sunny day: With he earnings I support Atieno yo. Atieno’ sly and jealous, Bad example to the kids Since she minds them, like a schoolgirl Wants their dresses, shoes and beads, Atieno ten years old, Atieno yo. Now my wife has gone to study Atieno is less free. Don’t I keep her, school my own ones, Pay the party, union fee, All for progress! Arenâ•?t you grateful Atieno yo? Visitors need much attention, All the more when I work night. That girl spends too long at market. Who will teach her what is right? Atieno rising fourteen, Atieno yo. Atieno’s had a baby So we know that she is bad. Fifty fifty it may live And repeat the life she had Ending in post-partum bleeding, Atieno yo. Atieno’s soon replaced; Meat and sugar more than all She ate in such a narrow life Were lavished at her funeral. Atieno’s gone to glory, Atineo yo.
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Rank: Veteran Joined: 7/3/2007 Posts: 1,635
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Lolest! wrote:http://www.standardmedia.co.ke/article/2000184270/atieno-yo-author-marjorie-takes-the-final-bow/
The Freedom Song
Atieno washes dishes,
Atieno plucks the chicken,
Atieno gets up early,
Beds her sacks down in the kitchen,
Atieno eight years old,
Atieno yo.
Since she is my sister’s child
Atieno needs no pay.
While she works my wife can sit
Sewing every sunny day:
With he earnings I support
Atieno yo.
Atieno’ sly and jealous,
Bad example to the kids
Since she minds them, like a schoolgirl
Wants their dresses, shoes and beads,
Atieno ten years old,
Atieno yo.
Now my wife has gone to study
Atieno is less free.
Don’t I keep her, school my own ones,
Pay the party, union fee,
All for progress! Arenâ•?t you grateful
Atieno yo?
Visitors need much attention,
All the more when I work night.
That girl spends too long at market.
Who will teach her what is right?
Atieno rising fourteen,
Atieno yo.
Atieno’s had a baby
So we know that she is bad.
Fifty fifty it may live
And repeat the life she had
Ending in post-partum bleeding,
Atieno yo.
Atieno’s soon replaced;
Meat and sugar more than all
She ate in such a narrow life
Were lavished at her funeral.
Atieno’s gone to glory,
Atineo yo. RIP Nyarloka. You will truly be missed. "The opposite of a correct statement is a false statement. But the opposite of a profound truth may well be another profound truth." (Niels Bohr)
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Rank: Elder Joined: 9/15/2006 Posts: 3,907
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Carry On!
Robert Service
It’s easy to fight when everything’s right,
And you’re mad with thrill and the glory;
It’s easy to cheer when victory’s near,
And wallow in fields that are gory.
It’s a different song when everything’s wrong,
When you’re feeling infernally mortal;
When it’s ten against one, and hope there is none,
Buck up, little soldier, and chortle:
Carry on! Carry on!
There isn’t much punch in your blow.
You are glaring and staring and hitting out blind;
You are muddy and bloody, but never you mind.
Carry on! Carry on!
You haven’t the ghost of a show.
It’s looking like death, but while you’ve a breath,
Carry on, my son! Carry on!
And so in the strife of the battle of life
It’s easy to fight when you’re winning;
It’s easy to slave, and starve and be brave,
When the dawn of success is beginning.
But the man who can meet despair and defeat
With a cheer, there’s the man of God’s choosing;
The man who can fight to Heaven’s own height
Is the man who can fight when he’s losing.
Carry on! Carry on!
Thing never were looming so black.
But show that you haven’t a cowardly streak,
And though you’re unlucky you never are weak.
Carry on! Carry on!
Brace up for another attack.
It’s looking like hell, but – you never tell.
Carry on, old man! Carry on!
There are some who drift out in the desert of doubt
And some who in brutishness wallow;
There are others, I know, who in piety go
Because of a Heaven to follow.
But to labor with zest, and to give of your best,
For the sweetness and joy of the giving;
To help folks along with a hand and a song;
Why, there’s the real sunshine of living.
Carry on! Carry on!
Fight the good fight and true;
Believe in your mission, greet life with a cheer;
There’s big work to do, and that’s why you are here.
Carry on! Carry on!
Let the world be the better for you;
And at last when you die, let this be your cry!
Carry on, my soul! Carry on!
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Rank: Member Joined: 1/7/2015 Posts: 125
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muganda wrote:IF
Ruyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son BEAUTIFUL! FEAR GOD
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Rank: Elder Joined: 9/15/2006 Posts: 3,907
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Rank: Elder Joined: 10/3/2008 Posts: 4,058 Location: Gwitu
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["When I am dead, my dearest"] Christina Rossetti, 1830 - 1894 When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on, as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget. Truth forever on the scaffold
Wrong forever on the throne
(James Russell Rowell)
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