Original text
"Rainy days are like the souls
Cloudy moments, casting gloom
But even in the quiet drizzle
There is a bloom that starts to look"
Black out poem
Rainy days
Are the souls
Quiet bloom.
Categories:
longfellow, 12th grade,
Form: Blank verse
Was it the Longfellow Bridge? Massachusetts?
One night we crossed a bridge on foot,
Dominique, my travel friend this summer 1989,
And seated we contemplated Boston at night,
Summer was hot, the city friendly and joyful,
We talked two hours about this new country,
The lights of Boston were full of Promises,
There was something soothing about America.
Était-ce le pont de Longfellow ? Massachussetts ?
Une nuit nous avons franchi un pont à pied,
Dominique, mon amie de voyage cet été 1989,
Et assis nous avons contemplé Boston la nuit,
L’été était chaud, la ville amicale et joyeuse,
Nous avons parlé deux heures de ce nouveau pays,
Les lumières de Boston étaient pleines de Promesses,
Il y avait quelque chose d’apaisant en Amérique.
PS, un souvenir qui est resté dans mon coeur,
bisous
Categories:
longfellow, adventure, confidence,
Form: Free verse
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
a poet,in school most come to know
very much a poesy traditionalist
with lyrical musicality did persist
Categories:
longfellow, people, poetry,
Form: Clerihew
LONGFELLOW -Angler's Song
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. ,,
O. / \
|--/ \
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\ --^--/~~•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Categories:
longfellow, fishing,
Form: Shape
LONGFELLOW POETS CALENDAR
[jan TO] [feb BE] [mar OR] [apr NOT][may TO] [jun BE]
[jul THAT][aug IS][sep MY][oct REQUEST][nov OF][dec THEE]
Categories:
longfellow, poems, poetry,
Form: Shape
Why can they build a three foot wide wheelchair but not a seven foot long hospital bed?
Categories:
longfellow, how i feel,
Form: Monoku
I
Think - but don't make THINKING "your aim" -
"Don't look too good ... or lose common touch"
I learned from past masters, one name
Is Kipling. Khalil Gibran. Thanks. Much!
II
He called defeat his "bold companion,"
To be understood "is to be leveled," without
"Defeat, My Defeat," he owned loss & gain;
Life & death. Prepared to dig graves within
Categories:
longfellow, 12th grade, america, encouraging,
Form: Rhyme
Longfellow Deeds
From
Winchestertonfieldville
Iowa
Wrote throw away poems for Hallmark Cards
In search of laughs
But H.W. Longfellow
Spoke in linguistic Espagna
Of his body craving Sergovia
And of a soul forged in Madrid
Set to a soundtrack of Castanet
An inquisition of state
Lapping at the beating shores of the Mediterranean
Searching for a New World to Tame
Crossing the Shipping Lanes of Atlantis
The Heroin is met
In Studious perplex
As for neither had she met
But yet
She is at what is to explore
A Character
A Muse
A Classic piece of Art
In Words and Ink
Inspied by Julia Ward
Light Verse
H.W Longfellow Poetry Contest
Spanish Student
Categories:
longfellow, angel, funny,
Form: Light Verse
My aunt was a weirdo: she talked to trees, walked around the house naked and used to read me “The Metamorphoses” by Ovid and “The Song of Hiawatha” by Longfellow as a bedtime story. “Oom-ta-ta, oom-ta-ta”, - dactyl waltzed, pages rustled and I came down dactylic stairs into my personal Hades of dreams.
Beavers are in the Styx! Bison hide in reeds from mosquitos. Herds of wild mustangs graze on the Elysium fields. Red-skinned young ladies with asphodels in plaits listen to the story of Orpheus and Eurydice that the magic Willow tells them. Everybody's happy but Charon: Hiawatha* takes Minnehaha** out in his boat. But where is the son of Rhea and Cronus and his wife Persephone? “Lookee, lookee, - Olympus laughs, - who rules the netherworld now. Henry Longfellow!”
Time passed. I grew up. Other rhymes obsessed me. But every night, having slipped past three-headed Mishe-nama***, I go down into Longfellow’s Hades in search of my late aunt.
* The main character of “The Song of Hiawatha”.
** Hiawatha’s ladylove.
*** The character of “The Song of Hiawatha”, the king of fishes.
Categories:
longfellow, books, dream,
Form: Prose Poetry
Resurrecting Longfellow
Relegated as a minor poet
Longfellow's Psalm
returns as memory
from a long-ago classroom..
Is it time to look again..?
Two verses may suffice..
In our real experience
dreams and waking
share one reality:
each are manifestations
of the finite mind
which rises within our Self
(and in astonishment
for the material-minded)
are made of our Self..
Indeed..this experience
awakens us from slumber
and at last we discover
things are not what they seem..
Our Self
not the confined self
(which our culture assigns)
is our true identity..
The Self..well..of course
is not made of dust
is not destined
for the grave...!
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
For the complete poem, A Psalm of Live,
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, use
this link:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44644/a-psalm-of-life
Categories:
longfellow, appreciation, happiness,
Form: Blank verse
Faithfully, THE TIDE RISES THE TIDE FALLS
Water sustains life; pulsing evermore.
A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE forever enthralls.
Golden lights brighten beyond the shore.
A PSALM OF LIFE repeats its vibrant calls.
Come; follow me along love’s corridor.
THE FIRE OF DRIFTWOOD upon dreams befalls.
Hope dances upon the darkening shore.
FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS leave prints all can see.
Young lovers sing songs that ring in the heart.
FLOWERS watch love’s reflections in the sea.
So it is now, like Adam and Eve’s start.
AUTUMN; then CHRISTMAS BELLS zing Cupid’s spell.
Love ignites her passions throughout the night.
THE CHILDREN’S HOUR, as we know quite well,
Arrives months later, oh, beautiful sight.
RAIN IN SUMMER quenches the lust for life.
Man and beast seek cool satisfying streams.
THE POET’S CALENDAR waits for his wife.
The family grows as love births new dreams.
2/14/2017
Inspired by the Contest: The Poet’s Pluck
Categories:
longfellow, autumn, dance, feelings, life,
Form: Quatrain
Prune word and line to fix fine verse,
Opt for good feel where reason rhymes;
Express thought fine as you observe,
Tint form and will all in good time.
Loiter with proof where practice lifts,
Outline the good where passion hurls;
Nurture the truth that frees bold gifts,
Grace cites fine moods where words can curl;
Feel follows fling as echoes come,
Extract pure voice in words that tell;
Live lofty spring where wit can sum,
Listen with poise as wise worth dwells;
Open to flow in feel sublime,
Works script a show in simple chimes.
Leon Enriquez
01 May 2015
Singapore
Categories:
longfellow, blessing,
Form: Sonnet
Doth if not thrill thee, Poet,
Dead and dust though thy art,
To feel how I press thy singing
Close to my heart?
Published first at age thirteen,
Historical stanzas
Expressions of the patriot thou art
Lyrics singing.
Your candles nightly glowing,
Great writings to impart,
Signaled from the Old north Church
Paul Revere’s Ride.
Do you revel from above,
“Poems of Slavery” roused,
Oh, abolitionist, thou famed
Compassion heard.
The Villiage Blacksmith sweating
Working his way through life,
Remembers your ancestral past.
Honored through time.
My favorite childhood poet
Sharing my same birthdate*,
You crossed the decades to my youth
And made me see.
Where lies, now, thy influence?
Embedded in my soul –
Patriotic heart and poet,
Grown from thy art.
Ó November 19, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: The Passionate Reader
Sponsored by: Constance ~ My Dear Heart ~
See Notes:
Categories:
longfellow, history, on writing and
Form: Lyric
Just 'fore words formed inside my head
as my mother put me to bed
her sweet voice would rhyme to lull me
tales of children wild and misled.
Who ran and played and sang and danced
deep in teepees as in a trance.
Or climbing atop the walls of castles
dueled with broom stick used as lance.
The children’s hour was our time
to kiss and snuggle laugh and sigh.
And she taught me of Paul Revere
of his rushed ride with red coats nigh.
So many Longfellow tales told
of bold, real or imagined feats
that never did I want her voice
to stop or pause or to repeat.
Tennyson could tell a tale of
charging brigands in full retreat.
But, none could met the glory of
Longfellow’s stories so replete!
*Longfellow wrote Hiawatha, The Chidren's Hour, and Paul Revere's Ride
among dozens of other poem stories. In the 1920's children were taught
history through the use of poetry.
Categories:
longfellow, adventure, caregiving, childhood, love,
Form: Quatrain
In his chest, his heart to bare.
All the pain and sorrow there.
Fire! Fire! Everywhere!
Screaming! Crying! In despair.
Vailiantly dashing the flames he chased.
The fire melting his loves life, cotton and lace.
Scars to hide, upon his face.
Still Henrys quill went on to trace
.
"The Cross of Snow", a sweet sweet lay.
Of the wife he lost on that sad day.
His thoughts of Fanny would harken him.
And is now at rest, with his mighty pen.......
Categories:
longfellow, death, education, life, lost
Form: Free verse
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