freefallfreak 0 #51 April 27, 2001 Zennie,You been hanging around Skreamer and skyhawk too long...they might be too short but Freefall??...have ya' been peeking?? FFF Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
flyingferret 0 #52 April 27, 2001 Well I like too many poems to even try and isolate one. But the thread did make me think....Have any of you seen a website with a bunch of old (60s and 70s) skydiving songs? Cannot remember where I saw them, but they are pretty good. Think it might have been a site on the t.u. system. Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
skreamer 1 #53 April 27, 2001 OK, here is a poem that I REALLY like. I had seen bits of it posted on different places on the net, then finally tracked down the full original version on the author's (Allan Roulston's) web-site. I have included a link to his site - click on his name at the end.Back From Whence You CameDo not stand at my grave and weep,I am not there, I do not sleep.I am the essence of clear blue sky;I am the yearning to climb very high.I am the breeze you feel as you spot;I am the rapture of building a blot.I am the rustle of a canopy in flight;I am the flicker of camp fire light.When you pass through the door into open air,I know you are smiling, I'm the wind in your hair.Do not stand at my grave and cry.I am not there; I did not die.Allen Roulston (June 1996)That poem is really sad, but at the same time it just reminds me about how fortunate I am to have discovered this beautiful new world that was above me the whole time, but I never knew existed. And also, that laid back easy camaraderie on the plane on the ride to altitude - that is also something that I treasure. Whether people are joking feeding off the tandem passengers' and students' nervous energy, or everybody is just really introspective and rehearsing the jump ahead - every ride is special./s Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
PalmettoTiger 1 #54 April 27, 2001 Are ya thinking of Wendy Faulkner's page? Blues, squares,PTiger Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Greg 0 #55 April 27, 2001 Not quite poetry, but I like it!!BelieverWatching the time go and feeling belief growRise above the obstaclesPeople beseech me but they'll never teach meThings that I already know (I know)Dreams that have shattered may not have matteredTake another point of viewDoubts will arise though like chasing a rainbowI can tell a thing or two (That's true)You've got to believe in yourself or no oneWill believe in youImagination like a bird on the wingFlying, free for you to use (O.K. baby)I can't believe they stop and stareAnd point their fingers doubting meTheir disbelief suppresses themBut they're not blind it's just that they won't seeI'm a believer, I ain't no deceiverMountains move before my eyesDestiny planned out I don't need no handoutSpeculation of the wise Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Merrick 0 #56 April 27, 2001 Quote"This one should have been written and shown to me a few months ago...and I should have taken it to heart..."One thing I've learned is that hindsight is a wonderful thing. What once seemed as big & important as the sky we fall thru..... couldn't hold up a fly's turd in comparison to what I have now! Quote"There once was a man named James,Who had a passion for silly games.He lighted the hair.Of his young love's affair,And laughed - as she pee'd through the flames...Bwahahaha - Jim wouldn't be short for James, would it?!?! "Grab the grass, it's the bounce that kills!"Merrick Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
nws01 0 #57 September 24, 2002 Bringing this back up to post my favorite when I get home off work and can get the words. Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
howardwhite 6 #58 September 24, 2002 the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls are unbeautiful and have comfortable minds (also, with the church's protestant blessings daughters,unscented shapeless spirited) they believe in Christ and Longfellow, both dead, are invariably interested in so many things-- at the present writing one still finds delighted fingers knitting for the is it Poles? perhaps. While permanent faces coyly bandy scandal of Mrs. N and Professor D .... the Cambridge ladies do not care, above Cambridge if sometimes in its box of sky lavender and cornerless, the moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy -e.e. cummings Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Jessica 0 #59 September 24, 2002 ooh, e.e. cummings.... i like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite a new thing. Muscles better and nerves more. i like your body. i like what it does, i like its hows. i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling -firm-smooth ness and which i will again and again and again kiss, i like kissing this and that of you, i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs, and possibly i like the thrill of under me you quite so newSkydiving is for cool people only Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
MarkM 0 #60 September 24, 2002 My favorite is a fable called The Princess: A man was crossing a road one day when a frog called out to him and said, "If you kiss me, I'll turn into a beautiful Princess." The man bent over, picked up the frog and put it in his pocket. The frog spoke up again and said, "If you kiss me and turn me back into a beautiful Princess, I will stay with you for a week." The man took the frog out of his pocket, smiled at it and returned it to the pocket. The frog called out yet again, "If you kiss me and turn me back into a beautiful Princess, I'll stay with you and do anything you ask." Again the man took the frog out, smiled at it and put it back into his pocket. Finally the frog asked, "What is it? I've told you I'm a beautiful Princess, that I'll stay with you for as long as you like and do anything you want. Why won't you kiss me?" The man looked at the frog and replied, "Look, I'm a programmer. I don't have time for girlfriends, but a talking frog is really cool." Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
f1freak 0 #61 September 24, 2002 Here is the first poem i wrote for the woman i love.... (you know who you are...I want to give you the world and all you could ever want or dream of, anything your heart desires would be what I would give, to you love. I would move the mountains if I could and stop the rain from coming down, I'd whisper, 'I love you', softly as I look into your eyes of deep brown. I'd make all your days sunny and warm and you would always know... That whenever we're apart, my love for you, even then, will show. People will know that I'm in love just from the thoughts that I have of you. They will wonder what kind of woman it takes to make me do the things I do. I couldn't even tell them what it took for even I don't know. All I know is you have it all... and it's you who gave me this glow. No words will be needed as we hold each other in the stillness of the night, only warm embraces and soft kisses, and the glow of the moon will be our only light.HAVE FUN... ...JUST DONT DIE Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
nws01 0 #62 September 24, 2002 Still searching... Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
lowpull 0 #63 September 24, 2002 I am suprised no one has brought up Dylan Thomas "Do not Go Gentle into that goodnite" Do not go gentle into that goodnite old age should burn and rage 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 goodnite Good men,the last wave by,crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green day Rage,rage against the dying of the light Wild men who caught the sun and sang in flight And learn,too late,they grieved it on its way Do not go gentle into that goodnite 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 gently into that goodnite Rage, rage against the dying of the light I always get something new, everytime I read that poem Dude, great thread!!!! Ralph Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Kennedy 0 #64 September 24, 2002 I don't know. Most of my favorite poems are by my favorite story teller: the great Jimmy Buffet. Honestly, my favorite poem is that little inspirational one given by the Master Sergeant in G.I. JANE. It may have been the only good thing to come out of the movie, but I liked it. I'll see if I can find the words somewhere. Any help would be appreciated.witty subliminal message Guard your honor, let your reputation fall where it will, and outlast the bastards. 1* Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
PLFKING 4 #65 September 24, 2002 Hey Jim....good to see you around again. Quote ...as always, we degress. Sangiro......and you're a Renaissance Man ! How dare you ? I guess my tastes run towards the macabre when poetry is concerned. All my poems have been light-hearted, but I always appreciate a talent that can write of the fragility of life, and make it seem close. All of Paterson's work is darkly profound, as well as one of my favorites, from Thomas Nashe, about the inescapability of death..... ADIEU, FAREWELL EARTH'S BLISS Adieu, farewell earth's bliss, This world uncertain is; Fond are life's lustful joys, Death proves them all but toys, None from his darts can fly: I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! Rich men, trust not in wealth, Gold cannot buy you health; Physic himself must fade; All things to end are made; The plague full swift goes by: I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! Beauty is but a flower Which wrinkles will devour; Brightness falls from the air, Queens have died young and fair, Dust hath clos'd Helen's eye: I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! Strength stoops unto the grave, Worms feed on Hector brave, Swords may not fight with fate, Earth still holds ope her gate; Come, come, the bells do cry. I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! Wit with his wantonness Tasteth death's bitterness: Hell's executioner Hath no ears for to hear What vain art can reply: I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! Haste, therefore, each degree To welcome destiny: Heaven is our heritage, Earth but a player's stage: Mount we unto the sky. I am sick, I must die. Lord, have mercy on us! Great idea for a post, Mr. G. Don Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Kennedy 0 #66 September 24, 2002 QuoteHonestly, my favorite poem is that little inspirational one given by the Master Chief in G.I. JANE. It may have been the only good thing to come out of the movie, but I liked it. Self-Pity - D.H. Lawrence I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself. "When I see the sea once more/ will the sea have seen or not seen me?" from Pablo Neruda's poem XLIX, from The Book Of Questionswitty subliminal message Guard your honor, let your reputation fall where it will, and outlast the bastards. 1* Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
skymama 37 #67 September 24, 2002 I had this one pasted to the back of my door almost my entire childhood when I was competing in swimming. It’s All In The State Of Mind If you think you're beaten, you are. If you think you dare not, you don't. If you'd like to win, but think you can't, It's almost a cinch you won't. If you think you'll lose, you're lost For out in the world you find, Success begins with a fellow's will: It's all in the state of mind. Full many a race is lost Ere ever a step is run; And many a coward fails Ere ever his work begun. Think big, and your deeds will grow: Think small, and you'll fall behind: Think that you can, and you will. It's all in the state of mind. If you think you're outclassed, you are: You've got to think high to rise, You've got to be sure of yourself before You can ever win a prize. Life's battles don't always go To the stronger or faster man, But soon or late the man who wins, Is the fellow who thinks he can.She is Da Man, and you better not mess with Da Man, because she will lay some keepdown on you faster than, well, really fast. ~Billvon Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
wmw999 2,550 #68 September 24, 2002 What Do Women Want? Kim Addonizio I want a red dress. I want it flimsy and cheap, I want it too tight, I want to wear it until someone tears it off me. I want it sleeveless and backless, this dress, so no one has to guess what's underneath. I want to walk down the street past Thrifty's and the hardware store with all those keys glittering in the window, past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old doughnuts in their cafe, past the Guerra brothers slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly, hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders. I want to walk like I'm the only woman on earth and I can have my pick. I want that red dress bad. I want it to confirm you worst fears about me, to show you how little I care about you or anything except what I want. When I find it, I'll pull that garment from its hanger like I'm choosing a body to carry me into this world, through the birth-cries and love-cries too, and I'll wear it like bones, like skin, it'll be the goddamned dress they bury me in.There is nothing more dangerous than breaking a basic safety rule and getting away with it. It removes fear of the consequences and builds false confidence. (tbrown) Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
AggieDave 6 #69 September 24, 2002 My favorite, its actually one that I wrote a few years ago: Gazing reflection of hollow eyes stare Death's cloud, it's inky cloak clinging to him The thoughts of death come closer to his brim The marbleized look of a dark despair Death's blood-soaked hands running through the boy's hair Bitter anger making his eyes grow dim Violent tendencies compelling to him Realizing that fate's dreams are liars Embracing the bitter thought of death This boy travels on and on alone His will leaving life's well trotten path Fingers red with blood, hands worked to the bone His life's work falling off the master's lath His life now void traversing the unknown --"When I die, may I be surrounded by scattered chrome and burning gasoline." Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
smiles 0 #70 September 24, 2002 My favorite poem- Do not go gentle into that good night- by: Dylan Thomas 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. Dylan Thomas Smiles. Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Falko 0 #71 October 14, 2004 QuoteLET THIS END WHERE IT BEGAN..... Beautifully written. My compliments! BTW I'd want the same type of funeral if I ever should happen to bounce or die of cancer. No graveyard, no tombstone, no priest please. A nice 10-way star with me "pulling out" (being pulled out, that is) at 10000ft. Ich betrachte die Religion als Krankheit, als Quelle unnennbaren Elends für die menschliche Rasse. (Bertrand Russell, engl. Philosoph, 1872-1970) Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Casurf1978 0 #72 October 14, 2004 I love E.E Cummings. One of my favs The Eagle by: e.e. cummings It was one of those clear,sharp.mustless days That summer and man delight in. Never had Heaven seemed quite so high, Never had earth seemed quite so green, Never had the world seemed quite so clean Or sky so nigh. And I heard the Deity's voice in The sun's warm rays, And the white cloud's intricate maze, And the blue sky's beautiful sheen. 2 I looked to the heavens and saw him there,-- A black speck downward drifting, Nearer and nearer he steadily sailed, Nearer and nearer he slid through space, In an unending aerial race, This sailor who hailed From the Clime of the Clouds.--Ever shifting, On billows of air And the blue sky seemed never so fair, And the rest of the world kept pace. 3 On the white of his head the sun flashed bright; And he battled the wind with wide pinions, Clearer and clearer the gale whistled loud, Clearer and clearer he came into view,-- Bigger and blacker against the blue. Then a dragon of cloud Gathering all its minions Rushed to the fight, And swallowed him up in a bite; And the sky lay empty clear through. 4 Long I watched. And at last afar Caught sight of a speck in the vastness; Ever smaller,ever decreasing, Ever drifting,drifting awayInto the endless realms of day; Finally ceasing. So into Heaven's vast fastness Vanished that bar Of black,as a fluttering star Goes out while still on its way. 5 So I lost him. But I shall always see In my mind The warm,yellow sun,and the ether free; The vista's sky,and the white cloud trailing, Trailing behind,-- And below the young earth's summer-green arbors, And on high the eagle,--sailing,sailing Into far skies and unknown harbors Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Girlfalldown 0 #73 October 14, 2004 Eyes of blue, I love you forever and ever through pain and pleasure for all to see our comrade ship no one to say any shit about you and me no one on this earth can keep us apart not even a day because you're in my heart I wrote this poem in a minute but my love for you is really in it I hope that you'll see...... Justin Peirce, age 13. He was my first real crush and then first boyfriend during my last innocent summer. I wonder where he is now. *sigh* This just brought back some of the nicest memories of being a kid. -------------- (Do not, I repeat DO NOT, take my posts seriously.) Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
bob.dino 1 #74 October 14, 2004 Quite dense I'm afraid: CLOUD-PUFFBALL, torn tufts, tossed pillows ' flaunt forth, then chevy on an air- built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs ' they throng; they glitter in marches. Down roughcast, down dazzling whitewash, ' wherever an elm arches, Shivelights and shadowtackle in long ' lashes lace, lance, and pair. Delightfully the bright wind boisterous ' ropes, wrestles, beats earth bare Of yestertempest’s creases; in pool and rut peel parches Squandering ooze to squeezed ' dough, crust, dust; stanches, starches Squadroned masks and manmarks ' treadmire toil there Footfretted in it. Million-fuelèd, ' nature’s bonfire burns on. But quench her bonniest, dearest ' to her, her clearest-selvèd spark Man, how fast his firedint, ' his mark on mind, is gone! Both are in an unfathomable, all is in an enormous dark Drowned. O pity and indig ' nation! Manshape, that shone Sheer off, disseveral, a star, ' death blots black out; nor mark Is any of him at all so stark But vastness blurs and time ' beats level. Enough! the Resurrection, A heart’s-clarion! Away grief’s gasping, ' joyless days, dejection. Across my foundering deck shone A beacon, an eternal beam. ' Flesh fade, and mortal trash Fall to the residuary worm; ' world’s wildfire, leave but ash: In a flash, at a trumpet crash, I am all at once what Christ is, ' since he was what I am, and This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, ' patch, matchwood, immortal diamond, Is immortal diamond. Gerard Manley Hopkins: "That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the comfort of the Resurrection" Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
misskriss 0 #75 October 15, 2004 Here's one to chew on in today's times... Wislava Szymborska... The End and the Beginning After every war someone has to tidy up. Things won't pick themselves up, after all. Someone has to shove the rubble to the roadsides so the carts loaded with corpses can get by. Someone has to trudge through sludge and ashes, through the sofa springs, the shards of glass, the bloody rags. Someone has to lug the post to prop the wall, someone has to glaze the window, set the door in its frame. No sound bites, no photo opportunities, and it takes years. All the cameras have gone to other wars. The bridges need to be rebuilt, the railroad stations, too. Shirtsleeves will be rolled to shreds. Someone, broom in hand, still remembers how it was. Someone else listens, nodding his unshattered head. But others are bound to be bustling nearby who'll find all that a little boring. From time to time someone still must dig up a rusted argument from underneath a bush and haul it off to the dump. Those who knew what this was all about must make way for those who know little. And less than that. And at last nothing less than nothing. Someone has to lie there in the grass that covers up the causes and effects with a cornstalk in his teeth, gawking at clouds. Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites