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Writing poetry

Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
I'm wanting to write a poem for my Gran's funeral but I'm finding it hard gathering my thoughts and putting them onto paper. Usually I just write poems as and when they pop into my head, and I've never really written them for a specific occasion.

Does anyone know of anything I could read for inspiration... Other poems I mean. I've been looking through my poetry books but they're not really what I'm after.

I've been trying to think of memories of her and been jotting stuff down. It's just not coming out. :(

Comments

  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    As i stand here today I know my Gran is far away,
    but not too me, because everyday i shall feel her near,
    whether its a warm breeze on my cheeks, or a suttle shimmer in the trees,
    I know that she will be watching over me...
    when i see the sun going down behind the hills from her window,
    Ill turn with a childlike glare to share...but you wont be there...
    When i walk into your kitchen I stop to stare at the empty baking tray just sitting there, ill hold back the tears and think of all the memories we had there...
    Gone you may be but not to me, because every ounze of beauty that i see has transended from a part of you in me...


    No idea if this is any help....sorry about your gran...its just an idea of the type of road you could go down with your poem
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    Dylan Thomas wrote a couple following his father's death -

    And Death Shall Have No Dominion -

    And death shall have no dominion.
    Dead men naked they shall be one
    With the man in the wind and the west moon;
    When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
    They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
    Though they go mad they shall be sane,
    Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
    Though lovers be lost love shall not;
    And death shall have no dominion.

    And death shall have no dominion.
    Under the windings of the sea
    They lying long shall not die windily;
    Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
    Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
    Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
    And the unicorn evils run them through;
    Split all ends up they shan't crack;
    And death shall have no dominion.

    And death shall have no dominion.
    No more may gulls cry at their ears
    Or waves break loud on the seashores;
    Where blew a flower may a flower no more
    Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
    Though they be mad and dead as nails,
    Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
    Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
    And death shall have no dominion.

    Do not go gentle

    Do not go gentle into that good night,
    Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
    Because there words had forked no lightning they
    Do not go gentle into that good night.

    Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
    Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
    And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
    Do not go gentle into that good night.

    Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
    Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    And you, my father, there on the sad height,
    Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
    Do not go gentle into that good night.
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    Came across this by Mary Frye -

    Do not stand at my grave and weep,
    I am not there, I do not sleep.

    (1) I am a thousand winds that blow.
    I am the diamond glint on snow.
    I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
    I am the gentle autumn rain.

    (2) When you wake in the morning hush,
    I am the swift, uplifting rush
    Of quiet birds in circling flight.
    I am the soft starlight at night.

    Do not stand at my grave and weep.
    I am not there, I do not sleep.
    (Do not stand at my grave and cry.
    I am not there, I did not die!)
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    Olly also mentioned W.H. Auden's Stop all the Clocks

    Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
    Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
    Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
    Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

    Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
    Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
    Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
    Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

    He was my North, my South, my East and West,
    My working week and my Sunday rest,
    My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
    I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

    The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
    Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
    Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
    For nothing now can ever come to any good.
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    Thanks for those Jim.

    I've started the poem off but it needs a lot of work. I don't really like it.

    This is it so far:

    It never takes long for someone to say
    A quick hello throughout the day
    And everybody that Irene passed by
    Were given a smile as she said hi

    It didn't take long to make you a friend
    And all were remembered until the end
    Memories faded and bones grew old
    But the love that she felt never went cold

    The gift that left was laughter and life
    A mother, a grandma, a sister, a wife
    So many thoughts which carry her on
    The flame of her life never quite gone
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    That's lovely Lu :)
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    Thats really good! probably better keeping it simple and personal!:thumb:

    goodluck
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    I agree. I like it.

    And Jim, I *adore* that Frye poem.
    A fan of the Auden one too :)
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    I agree. I like it.

    And Jim, I *adore* that Frye poem.
    A fan of the Auden one too :)

    I've got the Frye poem in a couple of books (it's one of my favourite poems), and it says in those that it's annonymous and no one knows who originally wrote it. :confused:
    Definitley one of my all time favourites though.
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    Lu_C wrote: »
    I've got the Frye poem in a couple of books (it's one of my favourite poems), and it says in those that it's annonymous and no one knows who originally wrote it. :confused:
    Definitley one of my all time favourites though.

    Yeah, it's true. There's various versions of it.
    But it's stunning. Howard Goodall did an orchestrated version that is worth looking up. It's actually sublime.
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    Yeah, it's true. There's various versions of it.
    But it's stunning. Howard Goodall did an orchestrated version that is worth looking up. It's actually sublime.

    Linky?
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    Lu_C wrote: »
    Linky?

    Uhm...
    I looked and looked but can't find a link :(

    It's from his Eternal Light Requiem.
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    Uhm...
    I looked and looked but can't find a link :(

    It's from his Eternal Light Requiem.

    K, thanks anyways... Will keep an eye out for it. :)
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    Lu_C wrote: »
    I've got the Frye poem in a couple of books (it's one of my favourite poems), and it says in those that it's annonymous and no one knows who originally wrote it. :confused:

    Apparently the authourship was only recently confirmed after some newspaper reports and a CBC TV special about the poetry. Here's a bit more info taken from a youtube video which summarises what is general agreed now -

    Mary Elizabeth Frye nee Clark was born in Dayton, Ohio, on November 13th 1905. She died on September 15th 2004. She was a housewife in Baltimore, Maryland when her friend, a German Jewish woman (some reports say young girl), called Margaret Schwarzkopf was unable to visit her dying mother in Germany due to the anti-Semitic turmoil there. This led to Margaret Schwarzkopf's tearful comment to Mary Frye, after a shopping trip, to say that she had been denied the chance to
    "... stand at my mother's grave and say goodbye".
    This prompt caused Mary Frye to write the verse there and then on a piece of paper torn from a brown paper shopping bag, on her kitchen table, while her distressed friend was upstairs. Mary Frye said the poem simply 'came to her'.
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    Jim V wrote: »
    Apparently the authourship was only recently confirmed after some newspaper reports and a CBC TV special about the poetry. Here's a bit more info taken from a youtube video which summarises what is general agreed now -

    Mary Elizabeth Frye nee Clark was born in Dayton, Ohio, on November 13th 1905. She died on September 15th 2004. She was a housewife in Baltimore, Maryland when her friend, a German Jewish woman (some reports say young girl), called Margaret Schwarzkopf was unable to visit her dying mother in Germany due to the anti-Semitic turmoil there. This led to Margaret Schwarzkopf's tearful comment to Mary Frye, after a shopping trip, to say that she had been denied the chance to
    "... stand at my mother's grave and say goodbye".
    This prompt caused Mary Frye to write the verse there and then on a piece of paper torn from a brown paper shopping bag, on her kitchen table, while her distressed friend was upstairs. Mary Frye said the poem simply 'came to her'.

    Oh cool, thanks for that Jim, interesting stuff. :)

    I think the best poems do just come to you.

    Having said that, this poem for my gran isn't coming easy... but I've changed it a bit...

    Memories faded and bones grew old,
    But the love Irene felt never went cold,
    It didn't take long to make you a friend,
    held safe in her heart until the end,
    The gifts that she left were laughter and life,
    A mother, a grandma, and sister and wife,
    So many thoughts which carry her on,
    The flame of her life never quite gone.
    Everyone she met were greeted with smiles,
    The faith that she had reached out for miles,
    Always a song coming from her lips,
    This is the memory that my mind knits,
    Hopsitable and friendly to all at her door,
    Leaving food for the slugs on the floor,
    Playing scrabble with a brandy in hand,
    Not one thing about her was ever bland,
    Crossword and pen on the table at night,
    The sound of her singing when out of sight,
    The tune of her voice as she sang some refrain,
    And the sight of her leaning on the windowpane
    stretching out to the pigeons outside,
    As she announced that they'd followed her (with some pride),
    The kiss on my forehead as she put me to bed,
    And then came the 'tut' at something Sid said,
    Humourous and clever, reliable and strong,
    The memories of her will always live on.


    Think it still needs some work.
  • **helen****helen** Deactivated Posts: 9,235 Supreme Poster
    Lu_C wrote: »
    Oh cool, thanks for that Jim, interesting stuff. :)

    I think the best poems do just come to you.

    Having said that, this poem for my gran isn't coming easy... but I've changed it a bit...

    Memories faded and bones grew old,
    But the love Irene felt never went cold,
    It didn't take long to make you a friend,
    held safe in her heart until the end,
    The gifts that she left were laughter and life,
    A mother, a grandma, and sister and wife,
    So many thoughts which carry her on,
    The flame of her life never quite gone.
    Everyone she met were greeted with smiles,
    The faith that she had reached out for miles,
    Always a song coming from her lips,
    This is the memory that my mind knits,
    Hopsitable and friendly to all at her door,
    Leaving food for the slugs on the floor,
    Playing scrabble with a brandy in hand,
    Not one thing about her was ever bland,
    Crossword and pen on the table at night,
    The sound of her singing when out of sight,
    The tune of her voice as she sang some refrain,
    And the sight of her leaning on the windowpane
    stretching out to the pigeons outside,
    As she announced that they'd followed her (with some pride),
    The kiss on my forehead as she put me to bed,
    And then came the 'tut' at something Sid said,
    Humourous and clever, reliable and strong,
    The memories of her will always live on.


    Think it still needs some work.

    Only you can say when you're truly happy with it - but I think this is really beautiful and would make her feel very proud.
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    I agree, it really paints a clear picture of what she was like - she sounds like a fab grandma :) The singing bit reminded me of my gran...she was always humming and singing...made me smile.
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    Well the funeral was today. My poem was read out and it went down well I think... everyone said it captured Irene as she was... Got a little laugh and a few tears so I think it moved people.
    Was a bit of a hard day, but I'm glad I feel like I contributed.
  • Former MemberFormer Member Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
    I'm glad it went well Lu C, it's a great poem
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