"henley" poems
I remember when I wanted to be
Anything and everything somehow
Now I’m starting to think:
Was that jus childhood or I am different now?
I haven’t achieved anything yet
I’m ordinary and average
I’m no one you’d remember
The world is not my stage.
Still, why do I feel I don’t need any help:
When it’s obvious that I do?
All those people giving me advice,
Why can’t I just listen to you?
Why does it take so long for your words
to sink into my brain?
Why can’t I see how much I lose
And how little I gain?
Why did I make myself this way?
Why can’t I make myself change?
Why can’t I just do it?
Why am I so strange?
Why are there so many “why?” s in this?
I need to stop making excuses
Stop procrastinating and delaying
I should just get down to it.
There are things I need to do
I need to learn how to talk
I need to start listening now
I need to crawl before I walk
Today, I feel like I’m worthless
Tomorrow I’ll feel fine
I need whatever I’m feeling now
To stay inside this brain of mine.
I’m too young to be worthless
Too young to keep on crying
Too young to even feel this way
Too young to stop trying
I just need to find the will again;
The will to do something great
Find it, Keep it and never let it go.
“I am the master of my fate” (Invictus, William Henley, 1888)
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 2:56 AM UTC
My mind was pulsing
with endless subtly shaded descriptors
and shockwave verbs,
when a pop-up alert flashed
red and yellow and blue…
YOU HAVE ONLY 9 WORDS LEFT !
ACT NOW !!!
YOUR LIFETIME ALLOTMENT IS 20,000,000,010 WRITTEN WORDS,
AND.........YOU HAVE USED 20,000,000,001.
ACT NOW OR LOSE YOUR RIGHT TO WRITE FOREVER!
BUT WAIT !!!!!!
COMPLETE THE SIMPLE FORM BELOW IN THE NEXT 60 SECONDS
AND WE’LL DOUBLE YOU TO 40 BILLION MORE.
IMAGINE ALL THE SHIMMERING ADJECTIVES, THICK NOUNS,
CLEVER ADVERBS AND PITHY PRONOUNS YOU WILL HAVE!!!!!!!!!
Panicking, I clicked on the form
and furiously typed …
William Shakespeare
10 Henley Street Village South
Statford Upon . . . . . .
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 7:29 AM UTC
--I. M. Edward John Henley (1861-1898)
Where are the passions they essayed,
And where the tears they made to flow?
Where the wild humours they portrayed
For laughing worlds to see and know?
Othello's wrath and Juliet's woe?
Sir Peter's whims and Timon's gall?
And Millamant and Romeo?
Into the night go one and all.
Where are the braveries, fresh or frayed?
The plumes, the armours--friend and foe?
The cloth of gold, the rare brocade,
The mantles glittering to and fro?
The pomp, the pride, the royal show?
The cries of war and festival?
The youth, the grace, the charm, the glow?
Into the night go one and all.
The curtain falls, the play is played:
The Beggar packs beside the Beau;
The Monarch troops, and troops the Maid;
The Thunder huddles with the Snow.
Where are the revellers high and low?
The clashing swords? The lover's call?
The dancers gleaming row on row?
Into the night go one and all.
Envoy
Prince, in one common overthrow
The Hero tumbles with the Thrall:
As dust that drives, as straws that blow,
Into the night go one and all.
2.6k
When you wake in your crib,
You, an inch of experience--
Vaulted about
With the wonder of darkness;
Wailing and striving
To reach from your feebleness
Something you feel
Will be good to and cherish you,
Something you know
And can rest upon blindly:
O, then a hand
(Your mother's, your mother's!)
By the fall of its fingers
All knowledge, all power to you,
Out of the dreary,
Discouraging strangenesses
Comes to and masters you,
Takes you, and lovingly
Woos you and soothes you
Back, as you cling to it,
Back to some comforting
Corner of sleep.
So you wake in your bed,
Having lived, having loved;
But the shadows are there,
And the world and its kingdoms
Incredibly faded;
And you group through the Terror
Above you and under
For the light, for the warmth,
The assurance of life;
But the blasts are ice-born,
And your heart is nigh burst
With the weight of the gloom
And the stress of your strangled
And desperate endeavour:
Sudden a hand--
Mother, O Mother!--
God at His best to you,
Out of the roaring,
Impossible silences,
Falls on and urges you,
Mightily, tenderly,
Forth, as you clutch at it,
Forth to the infinite
Peace of the Grave.
2.4k
To be sung to ***** Laundry"
by Don Henley
We have a little story
That we could tell
We have a little poison
In our inkwell
Let's be a gossip
Let's be a shill
Give us the 'ol Pulp Bitchin'.
We peep through the windows
And listen at doors
We buy the "Enquirer"
And "The Star" at the stores
"She ***** herself"
And "She's a *****
***** little minds galore!
Give us the 'ol Pulp Bitchin'.
Have a li'l "lady"
Who's fast and free
I've heard she's been a prossy
That she's easy
Nothin' nice to say?
Come sit by me!
Give us the ol Pulp Bitchin'
Could have been emeritus
Could have been a great
But I pound out nothing
But dreck and spate
So what if it's full of hate?
You don't really want to know
If it's real or true.
It's not what they SAY
it's what you they DOO DOO
DON'T YOU WORRY WHAT
I THINK OF YOU
(THAT YOU ALL POO POO 💩)
Give us the old Pulp Bitchin'
Kick 'em while they're up
Kick 'em while they're down
(1, 000, 000, 000 000, 000 X)
🎯 Write of Passage
***** Laundry"
I make my living off the evening news
Just give me something
Something I can use
People love it when you lose
They love ***** laundry
Well, I coulda been an actor
But I wound up here
I just have to look good
I don't have to be clear
Come and whisper in my ear
Give us ***** laundry
Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em all around
We got the bubble headed
Bleached blonde
Comes on at five
She can tell you 'bout the plane crash
With a gleam in her eye
It's interesting when people die
Give us ***** laundry
Can we film the operation
Is the head dead yet
You know the boys in the newsroom
Got a running bet
Get the widow on the set
We need ***** laundry
You don't really need to find out
What's going on
You don't really want to know
Just how far it's gone
Just leave well enough alone
Eat your ***** laundry
Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're stiff
Kick 'em all around
(Kick 'em when they're up)
(Kick 'em when they're down)
(Kick 'em when they're up)
(Kick 'em when they're down)
(Kick 'em when they're up)
(Kick 'em when they're down)
(Kick 'em when they're stiff)
(Kick 'em all around)
***** little secrets
***** little lies
We got our ***** little fingers
In everybody's pie
We love to cut you down to size
We love ***** laundry
We can do the innuendo
We can dance and sing
When it's said and done
We haven't told you a thing
We all know that crap is king
Give us ***** laundry
Don Henley
If the shoe fits...
SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
2022
Nov 22, 2023
Nov 22, 2023 at 10:24 AM UTC
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 ****** 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.
Jul 25, 2015
Jul 25, 2015 at 3:48 AM UTC
(Meter and Rhyme structure taken from 'Invictus' - by William Ernest Henley.)
Under the shade of dying trees,
Rooted in grit, wet sand and coal,
I crouch then curl in apathy
And begin to dig a hole.
Knowing the dark whims of random chance,
I have once struggled to put down
A wavering and anxious glance
That ends firmly on the ground.
In youth this world felt all too near,
Too close to comprehend, let’s say,
And as I weaved about my fears,
I learned to stop, take pause - and say:
It is in my mind I make the shade,
It is then I that digs the hole.
Thus when the time of fear pervades,
It is I that must take control.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
It was a day like this,
in March; smiling blue sky,
cheering wind, chill and brisk
A day like this, on the Charles
It was a good day
for sailing, hiking out
side by side, racing upwind
‘til feathers by the bridge
rocked us like babes,
laughing verses of Rimbaud
lamenting Milton
and the Arch-Fiend
We sailed circles round the eights
sculling their way to Henley;
we called them slaves
and gestured like Merry Pranksters
We tacked and jibed, glided downwind,
and on a broad reach, we saw Prufrock
standing on shore, downcast,
as mermaids slipped on board
and sang with us:
A verse for Nausicaa
A chorus for Eidolon
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 7:34 PM UTC
What is it like not to see?
I can imagine the darkness
Partial or complete
But what of everything else?
Would touching of the skin in the throngs of passion
Fill you with even more ecstasy
Would it help paint a picture in the mind
Seeing through the fingertips
Brushing metal bumps
Seeing Henley
Being like him, unconquered
How must it feel to inhale
And smell every delicate scent
Or every putrid odor
The sweet aroma of fresh lavender
The putrid stench of a dark alleyway
A blessing and a curse
Sometimes, it is said that you hear better when you cannot see
You are keener to the sounds that surround you
It makes me wonder
How blissfully amazing it must be to hear Beethoven's ninth in its full glory
Uninterrupted by the distractions of sight
Hearing every note as if the orchestra was in your ears
Blindness is a condition I do not wish on anyone
Yet it would truly be splendid
Could we appreciate
The magnificence that surrounds us
As does someone who has lost something so dear as his sight
To Maria
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC
This was a horror day,
Hitchcock's Day of the Bogans', let's say,
Grand Final Day of 2017,
The A.F.L.'S very worst dream,
When Crows played Tiges, so it seems,
Until power blacked out at 2:30,
No play was to be seen,
Then! A bomb scare at the M.C.G.,
The whole match was on stall,
But wait! That was not all,
They had to evacuate them all,
The bogans had a mighty brawl,
So Tigers played with themselves, good call,
Then! Seven inches of rain on the M.C.G.,
A field of rain and mud was to be seen,
They had a regatta, it was now Henley,
The A.F.L's very worst dream,
Hitchcock's Day of Bogans at the M.C.G.,
Grand Final Day in 2017......
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
She once was a girl growing up in Chandlers Ford
Meanwhile it was in Warwick that he matured
Years later once they had both reached an age
They each moved to Nottingham where loves’ foundations were laid
There they worked on the same degree
And together went the same nightclub weekly
Where he let it known to him she were pretty
So became special place this for them; Rock City
It was just the beginning of what fun they would share
Gigs and festivals they’d embrace as a pair
Always enjoying most the Maccabees
Music was their making of happy memories
Until lifes’ professional path forced them astray
Seeds of love planted, but not together everyday
Weekends back and forth as a long distance lover
The wait would be worth it once back with one another
Some time passed and now both secure in a job
They felt a shared future they were sure of
So in each other they would invest
Henley-on-Thames they went to build a nest
Where they welcomed the new addition of pets
A pair of rabbits who they’ll never forget
For they’re the first lives together cared for
Which has been a success so let’s hope for more!
Now content and secure
Yet with still room for more
They hoped for a place to call their own
So in Wargrave they brought their first home
And filled it with the things that they shared
More than ever they felt together paired
True commitment awaited just one more thing
He took her to Brighton to present a ring
This brings us now to here today
Two families meet at Malmesbury; their halfway
And with friends here all to celebrate
The love that Tom and Hana have made
We witness them begin their next phase in life
The exciting togetherness of man and wife
A relationship they should wear with pride
We all know for him she is the perfect bride
Officially now linked at the heart
June 22nd is where these Hutchinsons start
Adventure commencing with African Safari
And relaxing beach for honeymoon
A pleasure that will pass all too soon
But from there they will live in one guarantee
Wherever next will be together
As they are most happily
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 8:53 AM UTC
...and off I went...
on the way to nowhere.
Fogerty asked me a bit about the rain,
Floyd told me about money,
Henley was worried about some boys
because it was summer,
Frampton kept asking someone
to show him the way.
I hoped it wasn't me, I had no idea
where I was headed.
Until I stopped to write this.
And when I got here
the Animals told me about a house
in New Orleans.
On the way, between songs
I figured out the meaning of life
but I didn't think anyone would believe it
or me,
so I didn't bother to write it down.
Now,
I can't remember what it was.
It will come back to me again,
someday,
maybe.
My eyes are on fire as the sweat
rolls down into them.
I'm watching the boats cruise by freely
from the confines of my car.
I think of how my mind is like the water:
always changing
and it never stops moving.
As goes life:
the only constant is that everything changes.
...and it hit me again, just now,
the meaning of life,
and it makes sense to me, but you
still wouldn't believe me if I told you.
I have to get going anyway.
It's a long ride back,
but not long enough.
Nov 5, 2011
Nov 5, 2011 at 2:57 PM UTC
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 ****** 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.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 5:19 AM UTC
Written by Diana Garcia
I'm sure you're aware
That I'm not well
But please don't stare
I wish for normalcy
To be upset about normal things
Flat tires, bills and
How good Don Henley sings..
Let's just say, I'm an open book.
My story isn't written well
It's pretty easy to tell if youd just
Take a look..
Erykah Badu said it best
Lady those bags make you stick
Out from the rest.
Let it go cause round and round i go
INDIOSYNCRASY
Hey Kevin Smith, maybe try making a movie about me??
Jokes aside, my pain and suffering are obviously things i want to hide.
This mask has become transparent
The more my problems became apparent.
My heart races for no reason
I feel lethargic, I'm here, you're there.
You're watching the movie
But I'm stuck in my thousand yard stare..
In the mornings I cry cause heres another **** day where I'll have to try.
I wish i could be sad about normal things. These problems are much to heavy
For these angel wings...
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 11:12 AM UTC
You will not keep me down.
You will not prevent me from reaching my goals.
You will not tell me what to do with my body.
You will not tell me who to love.
As Henley wrote, I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul.
So listen when I tell you that I am me and I'll do what makes me happy.
I am not irresponsible for pursuing happiness.
So you can just leave me alone.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC
By some Sourdough monk in Northern Europe Patron Saint: The Drunk Monk of Nimbus HERE you will find the only reliable treatment to solve all your psychiatric and medical problems.
The Drunk Monk has won many awards for his unconventional experimental treatments.
All of the Four Pillars of Understanding have been found to contain gold along with the Mayan Calendar. The importance of this breakthrough is that you may rid yourself of the ‘Woolsey Complex’ of whatever madness has brought you here today!
You need not pay the traditional price of gold this Buddhist monk can supply cheaply (assuming you don’t mind that this saint was turned away from the Inn In Henley upon Thames, over 1,000 miles from here!) in which you’ll find:
1. A helpful cosmic energy: energy from the Emperor of the Universe! He’s like Santa Claus without the jolly youthfulness or lack of living relatives.
2. Dependable transportation: the Holy Nimbus Scooter. Just take that scooter, turn it upside down, and it’s a see-saw!
3. All 4 Pillars of Understanding: the number of boatloads of cash that you’re destined to receive from unknown sources, and soon you’ll be having tea with the Queen!
4. Also, all the Five Pillars of Wisdom: I won’t be delivering the 5th but you already have it, don’t you? (He’s helping you move! You’ll see what I mean!).
The drunk monk uses a dozen different methods to get you “saved!” First, you’ll need to drink a liter of ***** every day Do you think he’s kidding? Then, and only then, will you learn that Zen Buddhism has been around for a long time and yet doesn’t have any tradition of drunken asceticism!
On the contrary, you’ll learn that Zen Buddhism was an old tradition of Buddhism in which monks exalted in quiet prayer could use liquor in their meditation and drink it out of respect for the Emperor of the Universe.
You’ll also learn that in the original 4th Pillar of the Buddha’s teachings, the monk used no alcohol but on his first miracle he just drank a glass of sake without soiling himself. The Drunk Monk will help you as he helps other desperate people who are down on their luck.
Give me your name and address and I’ll let you know when I can see you next!
:: 09.25.2020 ::
Share this:
Oct 3, 2020
Oct 3, 2020 at 2:47 PM UTC
The boy with the green henley, I’m in lust
And I must tell this story of the first day.
The beaming sun, the grass full of distrust
That first day was perfect and all of play -
Leaning over each other, talking of class
And of past fancies, our favorite candies
And we both know who has the roundest ***
I put on a little Daft Punk, dancies
Together - while, the sun left for the moon,
darkening the sky, pulling the two of
Us - with dinner and a second date soon
The two of us, snug as an older glove.
Closer now, the boy with the laugh like bells -
He won’t ever give me visions of all of the hells.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 1:28 PM UTC
(a poem in Senryus)
Let’s rerun the play,
take up strings, so the puppets
can start fresh their dance.
Summon the old ghosts—
Shakespeare’s doomed heroes
—pronounce them reborn.
Recall the actors,
lead horses from their pastures,
raise the curtains.
Pay Shylock his pound
of flesh, give Richard his horse,
let Viola love anew.
Old, ever-hallowed
villainy, once banished,
has taken new stage.
Human suffering,
live—don’t fret, you won’t miss it
—it’ll come to you.
.
.
Songs for this:
Kool Thing by Sonic Youth
End of the innocence by Don Henley
The Perfect Idiot by Fievel Is Glauque
Nov 1, 2024
Nov 1, 2024 at 1:17 PM UTC
As captain and pilot
Believing in, and of my Id
Trusting myself, in what I do
And everything I did
========================================
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 ****** 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.
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC
Republican Vice-Presidential nominee JD Vance’s comments on the catastrophe, that is Donald Trump:
In DMs, he wondered whether Trump, “Is America’s ****** (2015)
“Fellow Christians, everyone is watching us when we apologize for this man. Lord help us.” (2016)
“Donald Trump is a moral disaster.” (2016)
After one meeting with Trump, Vance wrote “My god what an idiot.” (2016)
“What percentage of the American population has DonaldTrump sexually assaulted?” (JD Vance, 2016)
Vance tweeted: “Trump makes people I care about afraid. Immigrants, Muslims, etc. Because of this I find him reprehensible. (2016)
“I’m definitely not gonna vote for Trump because I think that he’s projecting very complex problems onto simple villains.” (2016)
“Trump’s a total fraud who doesn’t care if regular people call him reprehensible.” (2017)
“Trump’s cultural ****** just another opioid for Middle America.” (2017)
On Twitter (X) Vance liked tweets saying Trump committed “serial ****** assault.”
and called Trump “One of USA’s most hated, villainous, and ******* celebs.”
.
.
A song for this:
The End of the Innocence by Don Henley
Jul 23, 2024
Jul 23, 2024 at 3:43 PM UTC
The wine flowed from the bottle
as the words flowed from my pen.
It was my best ever.
A match for the greats:
Kipling, Thomas and Henley.
And one that my favourite, Bukowski
Would be happy to say
You matched me today.
I celebrated my masterpiece
With another glass of wine
Before going to bed, joyous
With the feeling I had created
My Magnum Opus.
In the morning I rose,
Clear headed and happy with
The memory of my creation.
I read it again.
It sounded different.
This was not the splendid verse I recalled.
It was the ramblings of a drunken mind
Bukowski would say
Try again Man
This is a pile of crap.
Suddenly, I had a hangover.
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 3:07 PM UTC