Poetry meme and stuff

[cornerofmadness]

Okay is anyone else having trouble with LJ? It keeps logging me out in mid answering posts and/or trying to update. Sigh.

From Cinescape (no pop ups) WB wants to do more Angel and are realizing they shot themselves in the foot. Good.

Poetry meme, we all know this one. I'm probably the last to do it. I WANTED to use my own poetry but evil_little_dog informs me the discs in a bag and she ain't looking thru them for me. So I'll put up a few others instead (we all know I can't stop at just one.)

For the more common stuff, I give you Edgar Allen Poe. Why? Because I love him that's why.

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule-
From a wild clime that lieth, sublime,
   Out of SPACE- out of TIME.
Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the tears that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters- lone and dead,-
Their still waters- still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.
By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead,-
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily,-
By the mountains- near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,-
By the grey woods,- by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp-
By the dismal tarns and pools
   Where dwell the Ghouls,-
By each spot the most unholy-
In each nook most melancholy-
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the Past-
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by-
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth- and Heaven.
For the heart whose woes are legion
'Tis a peaceful, soothing region-
For the spirit that walks in shadow
'Tis- oh, 'tis an Eldorado!
But the traveller, travelling through it,
May not- dare not openly view it!
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringed lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule

And trying to find a female poet I like that less common (Not that there's anything wrong with Dickenson or Plath I love them too) Here's Christina Rossetti

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

And because adeliedreams  wanted someone to include something obscure like Icelandic Eddas (and guess who has a whole CD of song Eddas?) Here's something from Iceland

I know that I hung
On a windy tree
Nine whole nights,
Wounded by a spear
And given to Odinn,
Myself to myself,
On the tre
Of which no one knows
From whose roots it rises.

They did not delight me with bread
Or drinking-horn.
I peered down, searching.
I took up the runes –
Shouting I took them up –
I fell back from there.

Nine giant spells
I learned from the famous son
Of Bolborn, Bestla’s father,
And a drink I got
of the precious mead
drawn from Odrerir.

Then I started to sprout
And grow sagacious
And thrive and prosper;
One word from another
Sought me out a word,
One deed from another,
Sought me out a deed.

You will find runes,
And staves elucidated,
Very mighty staves
Very forceful staves,
Which the Great Sage painted
And the vast gods made
And the gods’ Hidden One cut.
Odinn among the Aeser
And for the elves Dainn,
Dvalinn for the dwarfs,
Asvidr for the giants –
I carved some myself.

Do you know how one must carve?
Do you know how one must construe?
Do you know how one must paint?
Do you know how one must try?
Do you know how one must pray?
Do you know how one must sacrifice?
Do you know how one must make offering?
Do you know how one must immolate?

Better a prayer not said
Than excessive oblation:
Always a gift has an eye to repayment.
Better no offering
Than too much immolation.
So Pundr carved
Before the history of men.
There he rose up
When he returned.