Steady hands, unsteady heartbeats

[E.A. Poe]

I've mused and found that poetry, in its many forms, is an expression made with steady hands, when there is no way for unsteady heartbeats to perform the task.

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

[E.A. Poe]

The philosophical question is at the end.

[MikDaTv]

the answer, is, of coarse, 42... or baseball. whichever one fits better.

[E.A. Poe]

42 is as good an answer as any, and is, perhaps, the answer to the most important question in the universe. It's a wishy-washy question anyway. I'm just bored and enjoy poetry. Poe wasn't half so bleak as most people see him. Most of his poems at least begin with great amounts of love.

[E.A. Poe]

Here's one for the boards:

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 their 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.

[Zilfer Of Shadows...]

It all depends on persception. It's just like how we could be in the matrix for all we know. (probably not but just an example.)

Oddly enough have you ever had a dream within a dream? It's quite freaky. XD Wakin up twice. XD

[E.A. Poe]

That sounds weird.

[MikDaTv]

Aug 13, 2009 2:27:09 GMT -5 E.A. Poe said:

Here's one for the boards:

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 their 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.

The old opening to the Union of the Force page. I went through a poetry phase a while back and made this the official poem of a group i used to run.

[E.A. Poe]

I have both of these bookmarked on my phone actually.

[Darth Hades]

Aug 13, 2009 17:26:12 GMT -5 Zilfer Of Shadows... said:

It all depends on persception. It's just like how we could be in the matrix for all we know. (probably not but just an example.)

Oddly enough have you ever had a dream within a dream? It's quite freaky. XD Wakin up twice. XD

I had so many of thoses dream. anyway i'm not much into poems they can be a bit boring, i like some. well i'll try and decode some of yours poe they sound interesting.

[E.A. Poe]

Many poems are boring, I agree, but most are very interesting.

[Yuki Uramachi]

I think if you are going to post poetry post your own, like not from the guy you named your username after, but you yourself. Anyways I agree that is mostly for that reason, but I have written really good poetry for just the fun of it, and the fact that I wanted to to. I wrote an epically awesome Halloween poem just out of boredom.

"Gloomy night filled with grief
Heart is wishing for some relief,
The pain is aching to the bone
Cause of this wound is now unknown,
Her memory of it gone in a flash
Except it caused a painful rash,
Outside she stirs about in fear
Worried what does linger here,
Wandering endlessly through the night
Only guided by the street lights,
Crimson liquid here is found
Splattered all amongst the ground,
A body headless not far from her
The head, she found, is just there yonder,
The victim of this brutal crime
Is someone she had met last time,
For some tea they had sat
Just enjoying a long chat,
Once a friend now is dead
She dare not look more at the head,
Images flash before her eyes
A familiar person in disguise,
She saw the retched act take place
Only to see the criminal's face,
In a mirror is where she'd find the one at fault
This memory put her at a halt,
She froze right there, half alive
When just then the cops arrived,
She heard them coming and didn't run
A cop says "C'mon you've had you're fun!"
She was taken to the county prison
To them talking she didn't listen,
In the cell she hung her head
The next morning they found her dead,
Hung herself with shoelaces
You should have seen the prisoners faces,
It was a dark grim night that hallows eve
But of her pain she was relieved!"