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Poetry Club

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

~William Ernest Henley
 
It was mentioned. Now it appears.

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
 
Your posting of the Dylan Thomas poem made me think of the time I ripped it off for something I was writing, not even realizing the forgotten target of my larceny for a couple hours after writing it. I looked it up and remembered it. What a great poem! Thank you for posting it. Here's the one I wrote.



Thoughts Upon Awakening



Enchantment

The first day's emotion stirs

The morning's third awareness curves
My wak'ning eyes towards another day

My burgeoning soul begins the day's songs of love
Melodies chime into resonance
Shoes, breakfast, guitars all begin to filter past
In glittering presentation of morning's bubbly inspection of acknowledgement

Realization of the presence and care drive of dear souls
Toiling in passing anonymity as brilliant perspective and care is considered
(Quietly, intently, in earlieast morning, and alone)
Already conceptualized
Cradled
Cared for
Nurtured and grown
Achieving its own impetus of dreamed potential
Into a form that us may see and hear

To grow into its own existence
To add enchantment to our experience
To help we taste deeply of their levels of experience, care and thought
To begin to one day feel the glimmer of understanding
Sought by many
Experienced by one I know
In this case

Somewhere
In a basement
One person toils in care and passion
Writing and thinking all they have
All of the years of their time
Into a work to help what they see
And bring the opportunity to say more
To people with ears and sensibility
One of whom
Just maybe, will hear
And understand
Pick up one football
And carry on into this shared future
Adding to this mosaic of care
And intelligent reflection and action

We shall not go so gently into this good night

We shall not dip away into careless acceptance
And choke upon the detrius of unconsidered floundering existence
Wearing damned buckets on our heads

Somewhere
Someone cares enough to think
To help us see
And try to help us understand
And walk though this wilderness
And maybe find ourselves still standing when all this gets sorted
And give your children a place to stand

To live
To dream
To have children of their own
And live also
In steeped appreciation of where we have been, where we are
And where we may go if we're lucky
And smart enough to


Walk
Learn
Think
Listen
Care
Grow
Teach

Thank you

Good morning
 
Reality

Heartbeat pulses with the golden spiral
Brainwaves vibrate then go viral
This universe is a living broadcast
Tapped into a new frequency
Currents transmitted forecast
Transmuted minds, one conscious podcast

I’m the architect of my own reality
If language is currency I live in poverty
Follow the blueprint, orchestrated anomaly
Aligned energy with vibrations, it’s harmony
Endlessly transforming like sacred geometry
 
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