"aragon" poems
(To Ellen Terry)
I marvel not Bassanio was so bold
To peril all he had upon the lead,
Or that proud Aragon bent low his head
Or that Morocco’s fiery heart grew cold:
For in that gorgeous dress of beaten gold
Which is more golden than the golden sun
No woman Veronese looked upon
Was half so fair as thou whom I behold.
Yet fairer when with wisdom as your shield
The sober-suited lawyer’s gown you donned,
And would not let the laws of Venice yield
Antonio’s heart to that accursed Jew—
O Portia! take my heart: it is thy due:
I think I will not quarrel with the Bond.
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373
I’m saying every day
“If I should be a Queen, tomorrow”—
I’d do this way—
And so I deck, a little,
If it be, I wake a Bourbon,
None on me, bend supercilious—
With “This was she—
Begged in the Market place—
Yesterday.”
Court is a stately place—
I’ve heard men say—
So I loop my apron, against the Majesty
With bright Pins of Buttercup—
That not too plain—
Rank—overtake me—
And perch my Tongue
On Twigs of singing—rather high—
But this, might be my brief Term
To qualify—
Put from my simple speech all plain word—
Take other accents, as such I heard
Though but for the Cricket—just,
And but for the Bee—
Not in all the Meadow—
One accost me—
Better to be ready—
Than did next morn
Meet me in Aragon—
My old Gown—on—
And the surprised Air
Rustics—wear—
Summoned—unexpectedly—
To Exeter—
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She dreamed of pomegranates among lilies,
red orbs glowing among the white,
water beneath, black as soot and death,
while life drifted just above the surface.
She thought of Catherine of Aragon,
forlorn loves, starved dreams,
desolate, but beautiful, on the surface of death.
The most lovely thing about life,
is that it ends.
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
*In a great fountain garden,
tulips and lovely flowers bloom,
vibrant colours give life
to the Hampton Court Palace
Catherine of Aragon sat with grace,
watching the tranquil sky
as the bird sends sweet greetings
She slowly wipe the sadness coming
from her eyes
The Roman Catholic fell down from King Henry's hand
as the pope opposed his wish
Tyranny started to rule,
20 years of love and struggles come to an end
'Oh father, my heart is in pieces. Spare me the light, make me alive.'
Catherine whispered an agonized cry
begging for mercy in the Heaven's above,
she stood up and smiled in so much pain
Then slowly, she walked away
knowing Henry and Anne Boleyn is in a happy place.*
a.k
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
A Tale of Two Cities, Marie Antoinette, Les Misérables,
Populaire and Jacqueline Boyer—
Van Gogh and Monet and all things the Louvre—
Louise Labé and Louis Aragon,
Camus, Voltaire, Baudelaire…
I’ve been breathing in pieces of France,
Eating baguettes,
Dreaming of their kisses,
Committing the curl of their words to memory,
To maybe find out just why they say the French love better.
Maybe if I’ve established the impartiality to the Eiffel tower and the familiarity of romantic cheek-and-cheek-kiss greets,
I will grin under the Parisian Moon, whispering with some curls of my own:
Je suis heureux.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
Chance Operations are methods of generating poetry independent of the author’s will. A chance operation can be almost anything from throwing darts and rolling dice, to the ancient Chinese divination method, I-Ching, and even sophisticated computer programs. Most poems created by chance operations use some original text as their source, be it the newspaper, an encyclopedia, or a famous work of literature. The purpose of such a practice is to play against the poet’s intentions and ego, while creating unusual syntax and images. The resulting poems allow the reader to take part in producing meaning from the work.
The roots of using chance operations to generate poetry are generally traced to the Dada movement in Western Europe in the early and mid-twentieth-century, involving writers such as André Breton, Louis Aragon, Tristan Tzara, Philippe Soupault, and Paul Éluard. The Dadaists were deeply interested in the subconscious, and they believed that the mind would create associations and meaning from any text, including those generated through random selections. In one section of Tzara’s “Dada Manifesto on Feeble & Bitter Love," he offers the following instructions to make a Dadaist poem, here translated from the original French by Barbara Wright:
“Take a newspaper.
Take some scissors.
Choose from this paper an article the length you want to make your poem.
Cut out the article.
Next carefully cut out each of the words that make up this article and put them all in a bag.
Shake gently.
Next take out each cutting one after the other.
Copy conscientiously in the order in which they left the bag.
The poem will resemble you.
And there you are--an infinitely original author of charming sensibility, even though unappreciated by the ****** herd.”
The use of chance operations in contemporary poetry has been used most famously by the international avant-garde group Fluxus, poet Jackson Mac Low, and the poet and composer John Cage. A good example of a poem that was written using chance operations is Jackson Mac Low’s “Stein 100: A Feather Likeness of the Justice Chair," which also includes Mac Low’s explanation of the methods he used to compose the poem.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
I wish you hug me one day,
If not everyday, at least one day.
I will not ask you for more,
I will not become a daily chore.
I will never ask you to say,
What you do not and thus can not say.
I have loved you for as far as I can remember,
It was just my confession that I made in December.
You trying to hurt me to make me move on,
Reminds me of the scene between Eowyn and Aragon.
What makes you think you can do, to stop me from loving you?
I ask you not for your presence, just that you acknowledge my feelings for you.
Which you do not, even though it won't hurt to.
It will not cost a penny.
I am not asking you to love me too.
I cry myself to sleep, even though to you I say i am better,
You never acknowledged any feelings on calls or the letter.
You did not see me, you don't know i am in pain.
I know you do not want to see me ever again..
I deserve one hug, if not more.
You've never really hugged me before.
Give me some meaning, just closure I don't ask for a hope.
I know you don't like me, and for a future together, there's no scope.
But to you, oh my near and dear one!
I wish, I was more than just a no one.
Jan 6, 2023
Jan 6, 2023 at 8:03 PM UTC
Tudor Royals. (An Acrostic)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tough times the Tudor King endures
Undecided on his bold armorers
Due to hots for miss Anne Boleyn
Ordered aside the maid of Aragon
Removed poor Anne’s head for Darling Jane
Rare son to Jane but childbirth was a pain
On death we see the shrewdest Ann o Cleaves
You know they didn’t get on or consummate
A fifth in Katherine Howard a **** for sure.
Lost her head , took Kath Parr to bed
Six was five too many for a King named Henry
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
November 10th 2018.
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 8:16 AM UTC
Le Troquet le Méribel à Croix-Daurade
(Chronique des années de Blues et de fièvres)
C'était un bar de Croix-Daurade,
Dans les années soixante-dix,
Placé sur la route d'Albi,
Près du Lycée Raymond-Naves
Qui lui donnait sa clientèle
De jeunes gens émerveillés
De découvrir leur liberté
**** des regards de leurs parents
Ce bar était dans l’air du temps,
Des banquettes de moleskine
Un jukebox passant les tubes
De ces «golden seventies»
dont les jeunesses s’étaient saisies
Pour jeter les bases d’un Monde
Qui puisse leur ressembler un peu
Les chansons étaient leurs bannières :
Parfois «Let It Be» des Beatles, parfois
«My Sweet Lord» de Georges Harrison
Quelque fois, l'harmonica de Dylan
Évoquant Monsieur «Tambourine Man»,
Et bien d'autres que j’ai oubliées.
Nous buvions le plus souvent
Des petits noirs sans soif ni fin,
Parfois quelques bières pour les garçons
Des diabolos menthe pour les filles.
Nos conversations infinies,
S'enflammaient d'esquisses de flirt,
Et nous étions tous fascinés,
par leurs regards pareil à des aimants,
Leurs les longs cheveux dénoués,
et leurs yeux emplis de lumière.
Les filles nous semblaient belles et douces
Et nous n'osions pas assez le leur dire.
Mais leur présence charmante
Piquaient notre fièvre de «Tchatcher»
Lorsqu'il y eu la grève au lycée,
Suite aux blessures infligées
au normalien, Richard Deshayes
Le café devint un vrai QG,
Où nous préparions nos expéditions,
Des militants vinrent recruter,
Et nous initièrent aux querelles
Qui n'avaient rien à envier
A celles des Byzantins assiégés.
Il y avait le bel Alfredo,
Et des étudiants qui faisaient
Tourner la tête aux Lycéennes .
C’étaient comme l’écrivit Louis Aragon :
«Des temps déraisonnables»
Mais c’était une époque de fantaisie
Ou le demain se conjuguait
Au rythme de notre insolence
Et d’une soif de vivre sans pareil.
Paul Arrighi
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 7:09 AM UTC
My most dear lord, king and husband,
The hour of my death now drawing on, the tender love I owe you forceth me, my case being such, to commend myself to you, and to put you in remembrance with a few words of the health and safeguard of your soul which you ought to prefer before all worldly matters, and before the care and pampering of your body, for the which you have cast me into many calamities and yourself into many troubles. For my part, I pardon you everything, and I wish to devoutly pray God that He will pardon you also. For the rest, I commend unto you our daughter Mary, beseeching you to be a good father unto her, as I have heretofore desired. I entreat you also, on behalf of my maids, to give them marriage portions, which is not much, they being but three. For all my other servants I solicit the wages due them, and a year more, lest they be unprovided for. Lastly, I make this vow, that mine eyes desire you above all things.
Katharine the Quene.
7 January 1536
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC
The fundamental things apply
Or that proud Aragon bent low his head,
is Achilles possible side by
side with powder and lead?
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC
I remembered the Sequoia
I haven't forgotten
I remembered the Acacia
I haven't forgotten
I remembered
I'm seeing Amaranth
I'm seeing Allure
I'm seeing Aragon
I'm seeing Azure
Aurora
I felt the mist
I tasted the fog
I drank the dew
I heard the rain
resurrect
I know the hum
I know the beat
I know the rythm
I know the sound
Orchestral
Winter is warming
Summer is overated
Autumn is serene
Fall is saddening
I feel
This ambience is tranquil
Sometimes horrifying
This atmosphere is pacific
Sometimes petrifying
The sensation of being solus
The sensation of being unloved
The sensation of being foible
Me.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 8:18 AM UTC
Misrelating Tale
Gotta prepare for war, like I’m Daniel-son.
Train every day with that wax-off, wax on.
Mister Miyagi flow, that hits like a Jeff Hardy Swanton Bomb.
What has the world become?
We unleashed the sword,
So, what was done can’t be undone.
But what if this narrative could be un -spun ?
Would we right wrongs?
If we rebuilt foundations,
Would our nation remain strong?
To return a triumphant king like Aragon,
Or be stabbed in the gut like qui-gon?
But as def squad says we’ll continue on till the break of dawn.
For this is the way of the mandolorian.
Some days one gotta switch sides,
From the autobots to deceptocons.
Fighting foodons, blasting brains like I’m jimmy neutron.
A Lightning nuisance, that’ll static shock the electrons.
That may interrupt ones...
Constant flow of info from dendrites to axons.
After the battle is won, grab some schezwan.
Project soul of foul human individual cretans.
Not everyone can be as polite, as the bear named Paddington.
Gotta call the ghostbusters to extract some Thetans.
Rest In Peace to Egon.
So...
When **** hit the fan, gotta know how to swim in the deep end.
Treating each failure like it was a lesson.
Everyday I battle against anxiety and depression.
Let’s just say I know what’s it’s like to feel less than.
Got my heart crushed like some croutons.
And have had to attack on my inner Titans.
And just when you think I’m defeated,
I go super saiyan.
Schooling it like I’m Piccolo and it’s Gohan.
Let’s go son!
I Will never lose my head like a dullahan.
For I ain’t got not time for 99 problems.
Gotta open the third eye to see past illusions.
Got to change the qualities of the composition.
Keeping stressors relatively small no matter the opposition.
Gotta emphasize the light like you painting an impression.
On everything and everyone that may come along.
A perspective can turn curses to blessings.
Can take one’s trauma and use it as a weapon.
To change the cycle of ones disposition.
But that being said,
One can’t predict everything like the Simpsons.
For the world’s more controversial,
Than the ending of the Jefferson’s.
Jan 20, 2021
Jan 20, 2021 at 12:27 AM UTC
New, as a thing under the sun, may not be, if
you know
beyond any shadow of doubt
[
WAIT}{ Wraith, tell no lie, I adjure thee
Human… made of fertile dirt, humus, clay, right
or did this thing i thing you may
bean be, may be an AI virus
human concept formed from,
star-stuff,
highest dust of the desert
by fortuitous concurrence of events,
after ever begins or began
like a big bang and all kinds of unbelive- oh, that e, escape believe me,
once
just once, you come this far,
you never ring that ****** alarm again and shame,
shame's
a thing of the past, and we don't fish that hole.
Push on, pursuit of happiness is a right, not a privilege,
I inherent have, as a given, an intu ifity? An information messenger
from all who survived before now, this now, the right now?
I am, I think
A meme that makes me know,
from dust I came,
to dust I go, or is it some idea everybody knows
this me, the thinking me, I dust, become dust, damthatkansasong,
in the wind we then inherit
as
a means of propagation. Idea viruses evolve from invented
necessities formed into memes,
like on Facebook yes, yes and in Animal Farm where the egalitary
evolved an elite corps of the finest minds
and they formed a cadre of guards, to guard the riches caused by
the blessing of god.
A necessity for coping with --
op [option: change the course of history, portunity, or
position…
step by step as an upright walking being humanoid, but not dirt.
Nobel,
aragon level refusal to mix with lesser, looser fields of
gaseous matter dust,
atoms,
the un breakable thing at the point, until the Alamogordo,
fat cottonwood song was danced
in silence, and we saw
we make peace, where there is no peace,
do we lie,
can you wrestle with a message formed in media no scribe
could realize,
nor resist imagining if touched with the sting of this
what if, what if
god did adopt useless dirt beings and enoblize them above
all aaaa acc use
me. What if you got it? The itch, the kurio bite, the feel of a snaky lick?
--
Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 7:05 PM UTC
Does love exist!
Is it a fancy....
Is it only found in mythology!
With her.....
Love
Like the kiss between Arwen and Aragon
With her.....
People
Labeled me the lover.....However I'm in reality
I'm a friend!
What is my crime!
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 12:29 PM UTC
L'AMI sans cœur ou le théâtre
Adieu
Celui qui est trop ***
c'est-à-dire trop rouge
pour vivre **** du feu des rampes
De la salle
ficelles pendantes
Des coulisses
on ne voit qu'un nuage doré
machine-volante
Le Régisseur croyait à l'amour d'André
Lestroiscoups
L'oiseaus'envole
On avait oublié de planter le décor
Tintamarre
Le pantin verse des larmes de bois
Pour Prendre Congé
LOUIS ARAGON *
* Il revient saluer.
449
In the town of Aragon came a fierce dragon
He ate away all our spice, shows that he’s not very nice
So he came landing on the town hall
From there burned the celestial Ball
Everyone ran in fear and screamed
Their end has come, so it seems
The dragon had a lust for gold
To him a thirst that's unquenchable
So he broke into the treasury, then stole all the gold
And now it was taken, it was forever his to hold
After that the dragon had fallen into slumber
And so for a century he slept
And the gold was all he kept
And when he was awaken
He took gold that he had taken
And decided to end his reign
And had finally went away
So the people of Aragon went into cheers
Parties all around and music to peoples ears
And the land of Aragon was prosperous once again
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
Catherine of Aragon _Divorced_
Anne Boleyn _Beheaded_
Jane Seymour _Died_
Anna of Cleves _Divorced_
Catherine Howard _Beheaded_
Catherine Parr _Survived_
Now we're _Ex-Wives_
History's about to get
O v e r t h r o w n
Let me tell you a story
Tha you think you've heard before
Now we're, ex-wives
_Divorced_
_Beheaded_
_Died_
_Divorced_
_Beheaded_
_Survived_
Welcome to the show,
To The
H i s t o r e m i x
Switching up the flow as we add the prefix
Everybody knows that we used to be _six_ wives
Get your hands up get this party b u z z i n g
You want a queen bee, well there's half a dozen
Everybody knows that we used to be _six wives_
But now we're _ex-wives_
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
_Six_
_Ex-Wives_
Oct 27, 2019
Oct 27, 2019 at 10:04 AM UTC