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Tema: English Poems

  1. #21
    Forero Experto Avatar de dragonfly
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    From someone special... beautiful human being indeed...


    Oh, dragonfly, sweet little dragonfly
    around lovers you linger, then off you fly
    with the beat of your iridescent wings
    messages of cheer along you bring.

    Exciting and random are your flights
    you soar high above, just like the kites
    take me to your world, so cool and high
    you look so glorious against the sky.

    In the air, like a bird, you are free
    dancing with delight and filled with glee
    joy, sorrow, euphoria and strife
    only a day, yet a full life !

    Oh my Dragonfly!

    Thanks... a lot.
    Majestad Dragonfly
    Mis deseos son órdenes... Om Shanti
    Cueva, cueva, cueva!!!... moviendo ficha!!!



    KAJURUTONG (sin fines de lucro)
    Think green

    Nunca dejes de sonreír, ni siquiera cuando estés triste, no sabes quién pueda enamorarse de tu sonrisa.



  2. #22
    Forero Experto Avatar de karlacris
    Fecha de ingreso
    16 dic, 05
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    Donde radica la esperanza
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    I read this poem today... I would like to share it with you.


    Silence II

    Elaine Maria Upton


    Silence is not a lack of words.
    Silence is not a lack of music.
    Silence is not a lack of curses.
    Silence is not a lack of screams.
    Silence is not a lack of colors
    or voices or bodies or whistling wind.
    Silence is not a lack of anything.

    Silence is resting, nestling
    in every leaf of every tree,
    in every root and branch.
    Silence is the flower sprouting
    upon the branch.

    Silence is the mother singing
    to her newborn babe.
    Silence is the mother crying
    for her stillborn babe.
    Silence is the life of all
    these babes, whose breath
    is a breath of God.

    Silence is seeing and singing praises.
    Silence is the roar of ocean waves.
    Silence is the sandpiper dancing
    on the shore.
    Silence is the vastness of a whale.
    Silence is a blade of grass.

    Silence is sound
    And silence is silence.
    Silence is love, even
    the love that hides in hate.

    Silence is the pompous queen
    and the harlot and the pimp
    hugging his purse on a crowded street.

    Silence is the healer dreaming
    the plant, the drummer drumming
    the dream. It is the lover's
    exhausted fall into sleep.
    It is the call of morning birds.

    Silence is God's beat tapping all hearts.

    Silence is the star kissing a flower.

    Silence is a word, a hope, a candle
    lighting the window of home.

    Silence is everything --the renewing sleep
    of Earth, the purifying dream of Water,
    the purifying rage of Fire, the soaring
    and spiraling flight of Air. It is all
    things dissolved into no-thing--Silence
    is with you always.....the Presence
    of I AM


    "La educación es costosa para aquel que no ha valorado el precio de la ignorancia"

    Anónimo

    KAJURUTONG (Ad honorem!)

    ¡Alto a la violencia contra la Mujer!, ¡No más feminicidios!

    "No hay arma más subversiva que la risa" (Marjane Satrapi)

  3. #23
    Forero Experto Avatar de karlacris
    Fecha de ingreso
    16 dic, 05
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    A little poem by Jane Austen

    This little Bag.
    This little bag I hope will prove
    To be not vainly made--
    For, if you should a needle want
    It will afford you aid.
    And as we are about to part
    T'will serve another end,
    For when you look upon the Bag
    You'll recollect your friend
    "La educación es costosa para aquel que no ha valorado el precio de la ignorancia"

    Anónimo

    KAJURUTONG (Ad honorem!)

    ¡Alto a la violencia contra la Mujer!, ¡No más feminicidios!

    "No hay arma más subversiva que la risa" (Marjane Satrapi)

  4. #24
    Forero Experto Avatar de karlacris
    Fecha de ingreso
    16 dic, 05
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    For Maat... (I like your avatar!)

    The cat and the moon

    The cat went here and there
    And the moon spun round like a top,
    And the nearest kin of the moon,
    The creeping cat, looked up.
    Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
    For, wander and wail as he would,
    The pure cold light in the sky
    Troubled his animal blood.
    Minnaloushe runs in the grass
    Lifting his delicate feet.
    Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
    When two close kindred meet,
    What better than call a dance?
    Maybe the moon may learn,
    Tired of that courtly fashion,
    A new dance turn.
    Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
    From moonlit place to place,
    The sacred moon overhead
    Has taken a new phase.
    Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
    Will pass from change to change,
    And that from round to crescent,
    From crescent to round they range?
    Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
    Alone, important and wise,
    And lifts to the changing moon
    His changing eyes.

    -- William Butler Yeats


    Última edición por karlacris; 24/04/2009 a las 17:16
    "La educación es costosa para aquel que no ha valorado el precio de la ignorancia"

    Anónimo

    KAJURUTONG (Ad honorem!)

    ¡Alto a la violencia contra la Mujer!, ¡No más feminicidios!

    "No hay arma más subversiva que la risa" (Marjane Satrapi)

  5. #25
    Forero Experto Avatar de carolina villa
    Fecha de ingreso
    10 jun, 10
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    Por la One Way...
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    Predeterminado Respuesta: English Poems

    The Raven
    Edgar Allan Poe

    Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
    Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
    As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
    "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door
    Only this, and nothing more."

    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
    And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
    Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
    From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore
    For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore
    Nameless here for evermore.
    And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
    Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
    "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door
    Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;
    This it is, and nothing more."
    Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
    "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
    But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
    That I scarce was sure I heard you" - here I opened wide the door;
    Darkness there, and nothing more.
    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
    Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
    But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
    And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
    This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"
    Merely this, and nothing more.
    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
    Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
    "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
    Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore
    Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;
    'Tis the wind and nothing more."
    Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
    In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
    But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door
    Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door
    Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
    Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
    By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
    "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
    Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore
    Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
    Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
    Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
    Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
    For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
    Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door
    Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
    With such name as "Nevermore."
    But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
    That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
    Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered
    Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before
    On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
    Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
    Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
    "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
    Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
    Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore
    Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
    Of 'Never - nevermore'." But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
    Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
    Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore
    What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
    Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

  6. #26
    Forero Experto
    Fecha de ingreso
    03 mar, 10
    Mensajes
    3,310

    Predeterminado Respuesta: English Poems

    The Arrow and the Song

    I shot an arrow into the air,
    It fell to earth, I knew not where;
    For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
    Could not follow it in its flight.

    I breathed a song into the air,
    It fell to earth, I knew not where;
    For who has sight so keen and strong,
    That it can follow the flight of song?

    Long, long afterward, in an oak
    I found the arrow, still unbroke;
    And the song, from beginning to end,
    I found again in the heart of a friend.

    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  7. #27
    Banned
    Fecha de ingreso
    15 ago, 07
    Mensajes
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    Predeterminado Respuesta: English Poems

    Cita Iniciado por carolina villa Ver mensaje
    The Raven
    Edgar Allan Poe

    Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
    Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
    As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
    "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door
    Only this, and nothing more."

    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
    And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
    Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
    From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore
    For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore
    Nameless here for evermore.
    And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
    Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
    "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door
    Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;
    This it is, and nothing more."
    Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
    "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
    But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
    That I scarce was sure I heard you" - here I opened wide the door;
    Darkness there, and nothing more.
    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
    Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
    But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
    And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
    This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"
    Merely this, and nothing more.
    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
    Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
    "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
    Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore
    Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;
    'Tis the wind and nothing more."
    Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
    In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
    But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door
    Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door
    Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
    Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
    By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
    "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
    Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore
    Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
    Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
    Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
    Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
    For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
    Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door
    Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
    With such name as "Nevermore."
    But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
    That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
    Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered
    Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before
    On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
    Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
    Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
    "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
    Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
    Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore
    Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
    Of 'Never - nevermore'." But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
    Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
    Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore
    What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
    Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
    I love it soooo much!! I'll try to make a study for this poem... in English... yes, I know, I'm a crazy crazy woman hahaha.


    .

  8. #28
    Forero Experto
    Fecha de ingreso
    03 mar, 10
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    Miss Umbras swim in black shadow waters, Caronte is her friend, and the demons of Hades, are her bodyguards, Oh Cerberus, don´t be afraid of that little dark lady!!!.
    Última edición por rebelderenegado; 06/07/2010 a las 23:59

  9. #29
    Banned
    Fecha de ingreso
    15 ago, 07
    Mensajes
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    Cita Iniciado por rebelderenegado Ver mensaje
    Miss Umbras swim in black shadow waters, Caronte is his friend, and the demons of Hades, are her bodyguards, Oh Cerberus, don´t be afraid of that little dark lady!!!.
    At least I don't bite... yet


    .

  10. #30
    Forero Experto
    Fecha de ingreso
    03 mar, 10
    Mensajes
    3,310

    Thumbs up Respuesta: English Poems

    The Mask I Wear

    Don't be fooled by me.
    Don't be fooled by the face I wear
    For I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks-
    masks that I'm afraid to take off
    and none of them are me.
    Pretending is an art that's second nature with me
    but don't be fooled, for God's sake, don't be fooled.
    I give you the impression that I'm secure
    That all is sunny and unruffled with me
    within as well as without,
    that confidence is my name
    and coolness my game,
    that the water's calm
    and I'm in command,
    and that I need no one.
    But don't believe me. Please!

    My surface may be smooth but my surface is my mask,
    My ever-varying and ever-concealing mask.
    Beneath lies no smugness, no complacence.
    Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear, in aloneness.
    But I hide this.
    I don't want anybody to know it.
    I panic at the thought of my weaknesses
    and fear exposing them.
    That's why I frantically create my masks
    to hide behind.
    They're nonchalant, sophisticated facades
    to help me pretend,
    To shield me from the glance that knows.
    But such a glance is precisely my salvation,
    my only salvation, and I know it.

    That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
    and if it's followed by love.
    It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself
    from my own self-built prison walls

    I dislike hiding, honestly
    I dislike the superficial game I'm playing,
    the superficial phony game.
    I'd really like to be genuine and me.
    But I need your help, your hand to hold
    Even though my masks would tell you otherwise
    That glance from you is the only thing that assures me
    of what I can't assure myself,
    that I'm really worth something.

    But I don't tell you this.
    I don't dare.
    I'm afraid to.
    I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh
    and your laugh would kill me.
    I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing,
    that I'm just no good
    and you will see this and reject me.

    So I play my game, my desperate, pretending game
    With a facade of assurance without,
    And a trembling child within.
    So begins the parade of masks,

    The glittering but empty parade of masks,
    and my life becomes a front.
    I idly chatter to you in suave tones of surface talk.
    I tell you everything that's nothing
    and nothing of what's everything,
    of what's crying within me.
    So when I'm going through my routine
    do not be fooled by what I'm saying
    Please listen carefully and try to hear
    what I'm not saying
    Hear what I'd like to say
    but what I can not say.

    It will not be easy for you,
    long felt inadequacies make my defenses strong.
    The nearer you approach me
    the blinder I may strike back.
    Despite what books say of men, I am irrational;
    I fight against the very thing that I cry out for.
    you wonder who I am
    you shouldn't
    for I am everyman
    and everywoman
    who wears a mask.
    Don't be fooled by me.
    At least not by the mask I wear.

    Anonimous
    Última edición por rebelderenegado; 06/07/2010 a las 00:22

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