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Inconsequentials & Trivialities » Poetry

Eldorado

Gaily bedight,
   A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
   Had journeyed long,
   Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.
   But he grew old—
   This knight so bold—
And o’er his heart a shadow—
   Fell as he found
   No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.
   And, as his strength
   Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow—
   ‘Shadow,’ said he,
   ‘Where can it be—
This land of Eldorado?’
   ‘Over the Mountains
   Of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
   Ride, boldly ride,’
   The shade replied,—
‘If you seek for Eldorado!’

 

– Edgar Allan Poe

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Do not go gentle into that good night

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

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Bill Hastings

Listen to me, college boy, you can
keep your museums and poetry and string quartets
’cause there’s nothing more beautiful than
line work. Clamp your jaws together
and listen:
It’s a windy night, you’re freezing the teeth out
of your zipper in ten below, working stiff
jointed and dreaming of Acapulco, the truck cab.
Can’t keep your footing for the ice, and
even the geese who died to fill your vest
are sorry you answered the call-out tonight.
You drop a connector and curses
take to the air like sparrows who freeze
and fall back dead at your feet.
Finally you slam the SMD fuse home.
Bang! The whole valley lights up below you
where before was unbreathing darkness.
In one of those houses a little girl
stops shivering. Now that’s beautiful,
and it’s all because of you.

-Todd Jailer

 

Thanks Tootie for sharing this poem with me!

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The ash of lives that burned well

I can’t say I’ve ever been a big poetry fan. Often, I find poetry somewhat inscrutable. However, there are poems that I do like, and perhaps I will have a greater appreciation for poetry now that I’m in my middle years.

I’ll try to feature poems that I like from time to time.

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