Poetry Club

[Gismo]

Some of us enjoys to do this in our spare time. I know Hamed has interest and I do too.

My signature is one I made yesterday. /:star:

Later on this spring I will try to dig up some more old stuff I have lying around on my computer. If I can find it that is...

So Hamed, release that creativity! :star:

And the rest are free to join in of course. Every stuff is welcome and if you have famous pieces of famous poets and lyrics you wanna share you are welcome to do so as well.

 

[Hammoudi]

Gismo, you stole an old idea from my mind. :star: Great idea, we can really learn from each other. I love learning from other languages' poetry.

To tell you the truth, I'm yet to discover english poetry. In Arabic culture and literature, poetry is an integral part. That's how I started writing poetry, poetry is embedded in the culture.

I want to know more about famous english poet, like Emily Dickenson. There is also Dante Alighieri whom I heared tonns about but never read about. It will be nice if people try and translate famous poetry in their own language, it doesn't have to rhyme.

I will try and start off, one of my favourite poets is called Imro El Kais. He is the oldest arabic poet, yet, many consider him to bet the best ever. At that time, there was no pen nor paper, all his poetry was passed through the generations via memorization, just to show how great he is.

I'll share my favourite bit of all his poems:

A night, like a sea wave, immersed me
with all kinds of sadness to test me
Then I told it, when it showed its might
and showed the impossible
Oh you long night, please go away
and let the morning come
yet, the morning won't better than you

 

[Gismo]

I write off my impulses.

I mix it all like a DJ and simply scratch it out on paper. Like with my paintings.

Hamed is director of this club and I'm the sugar daddy in the corporation.

 

[Hammoudi]

Come on, translate some danish poetry for us.

 

[Gismo]

OK. HC Andersen?

 

[Hammoudi]

Sure, any famous bit of poem. And say more about the poet himself.

 

[Gismo]

I must say that Hans C Andersen is a Danish icon. Part of our history we can´t erase. I´ll find a story by him on the net, translate selected sections and post them here.

He has made so many fairytales and whatnot. Hard to pic from since there is so much to find and read.

 

[Gismo]

This is a very popular and famous story by Hans Christian Andersen. Enjoy!

The Princess and the Pea

by

Hans Christian Andersen
(1835)
NCE upon a time there was a prince who wanted to marry a princess; but she would have to be a real princess. He travelled all over the world to find one, but nowhere could he get what he wanted. There were princesses enough, but it was difficult to find out whether they were real ones. There was always something about them that was not as it should be. So he came home again and was sad, for he would have liked very much to have a real princess.

One evening a terrible storm came on; there was thunder and lightning, and the rain poured down in torrents. Suddenly a knocking was heard at the city gate, and the old king went to open it.

It was a princess standing out there in front of the gate. But, good gracious! what a sight the rain and the wind had made her look. The water ran down from her hair and clothes; it ran down into the toes of her shoes and out again at the heels. And yet she said that she was a real princess.

“Well, we’ll soon find that out,” thought the old queen. But she said nothing, went into the bed-room, took all the bedding off the bedstead, and laid a pea on the bottom; then she took twenty mattresses and laid them on the pea, and then twenty eider-down beds on top of the mattresses.

On this the princess had to lie all night. In the morning she was asked how she had slept.

“Oh, very badly!” said she. “I have scarcely closed my eyes all night. Heaven only knows what was in the bed, but I was lying on something hard, so that I am black and blue all over my body. It’s horrible!”

Now they knew that she was a real princess because she had felt the pea right through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eider-down beds.

Nobody but a real princess could be as sensitive as that.

So the prince took her for his wife, for now he knew that he had a real princess; and the pea was put in the museum, where it may still be seen, if no one has stolen it.

There, that is a true story.

 

[Hammoudi]

I remember reading this story when I was a kid, I didn't know it was written by him. It's a great story, however, I am awaiting to read some actual poems.

I hope one of the italian guys give us more info and some poems from Dante Alighieri. I heared he was a nice poet, but I've never read any of his pieces.

 

[Jony]

I kinda made one. I think I heard the first two lines somewhere else, but the rest is orignal...at least I think so. Its a work of progress and I might add something new so...yeah its incomplete. Tell me if you like it just a bit.

 

[Hammoudi]

Great Jony, waiting to read it.

Also, I don't know where you are from, but it'd be great if you post a famous poem either in your country or in your language.

Waiting for other people to contribute, come on, show us your softer side. Doesn't mean you are a wuss. Otherwise, I'd be one...maybe I am one Who cares!!!!! :dielaugh:

 

[Jony]

Great Jony, waiting to read it.

Also, I don't know where you are from, but it'd be great if you post a famous poem either in your country or in your language.

Waiting for other people to contribute, come on, show us your softer side. Doesn't mean you are a wuss. Otherwise, I'd be one...maybe I am one Who cares!!!!! :dielaugh:

LOL hamed I am sorry to dissapoint you if you expected something great...the "poem" ,if thats even a poem..yeah I know its crappy :embarrased: can be found under my signiture. I don't write poetry or anything so...

FC Inter is the name, football is the game. Adriano is the man, winning is our aim. Juve and Milan are lame, Sheva is the gay.

Oh, my god its so lame....I will be happy if you improve it.

Anyway I am from Bulgaria, but now I live in the US. I don't think I should post any Bulgarian poems because noone will understand them and I am too lazy to search for translations or to translate them myself.

 

[Hammoudi]

an inter-realted poem, what's better than that? I have a better ending, Sheva is our Daddy :depress: That's true, he owns us.

Anyway, take your time and translate a bulgarian poem for us. No rush, translate it letter by letter, it's fine.

 

[Jony]

an inter-realted poem, what's better than that? I have a better ending, Sheva is our Daddy :depress: That's true, he owns us.

Anyway, take your time and translate a bulgarian poem for us. No rush, translate it letter by letter, it's fine.

I just saw your poem about Juve and I realized that I copied mine from yours without noticing. I guess your poem got stuck in my head...and unintentionaly I made a similar one for Inter.

 

[Hammoudi]

Yeah, this is my special power. I can control the subconcious of some people. Now I have planted my words in your brain, you are officially mine.

 

[BlueBacchus]

Alright Hamed this is a piece I wrote.
Any comments are welcomed.
The title is called BLIND

It was early in the morning
while the whole city was asleep
didn’t know what time it was
didn’t know what to hold and keep
Arose to the shaking of the ground
to the sound of blasts
hysteric screams and scary eyes
all around me sorrowful cries
The sky was full of smoke
the horizon painted in red
I did not want to know
just wanted to keep lying in my bed

Red dragons vomiting flames
so many of them
unable to count
there from my window on the ground
so high in the sky
flying above us without smiles
I kept on asking
I was in denial
so dreadful the sight
ran into my closet and turned of the light
saw them all ask why
Saw my people die

Heaven was raining fire
Heaven cut us from our wire
People lying on the streets
Crimson waves painted a new scene
The newest trend to follow
A brand new scheme
Symbols of murder
deluded plans of a mirage
what a cover up it was
what a torch it was

The vision of that day
The dreams of that sight
what have we done wrong
what did we do to make it hard
To learn and understand
go to brother Elihu
he will tell you all
that one cannot comprehend
one has only to choose
we weren’t here when it all began
we weren’t here when the place came down

So do not ask
why your mom has gone
why your dad was shot
why your siblings have been murdered
why your house was ripped apart
you weren’t here when it all started
you did not see point A
you did not see it divide and become

It does not matter what you feel
just obey and heal
from whatever the cause
you should enjoy

One question I have I replied
if it is not easy to understand
than why is it so easy
to feel it burn inside

 

[Hammoudi]

That's maginificent Facade19(Is Facade your real name?) :star: I really enjoyed it. I detected an underlying theme in it, was this based on an experience, or just imagination.

I specially liked this part:

So do not ask
why your mom has gone
why your dad was shot
why your siblings have been murdered
why your house was ripped apart
you weren’t here when it all started
you did not see point A
you did not see it divide and become

 

[BlueBacchus]

That's maginificent Facade19(Is Facade your real name?) :star: I really enjoyed it. I detected an underlying theme in it, was this based on an experience, or just imagination.

I specially liked this part:

So do not ask
why your mom has gone
why your dad was shot
why your siblings have been murdered
why your house was ripped apart
you weren’t here when it all started
you did not see point A
you did not see it divide and become

Naw that is not my real name.
My real name is Mohammad, but I am just called Mo.
Some of it is from personal experience, some is from imginations, some from thins that are happening as we speak.

 

[wera]

Past few days were tough on me. Combine that with the fact that I haven't written any song or poem in months... so here is something. The 'we are pack' part is intentional.




I run from the murder scene
how not suspect of me
leaving you behind takes balls
and I lack the means

so I run, again and again
even if it's useless in the end

nothing is as it seems
shoes going apart at the seams
running, away from what was killed
away from fear instilled and away from guilt

I run, again and again
even if it's useless in the end

love hurts, trying to understand it
goddammit, it was my hot iron
when the bitterness was branded
hot coals where the eagle has landed

I run, again and again
can't pretend, so I grabbed my pen

for every day we spent, I'm grateful
love made a breakthrough in this great fool
even though I know you feel you put
the FOOL in faithful, for tango, it takes two

you run, again and again
next to me, what I call a true friend

call me a hoarder, call me insane
but all the baggage I hold can't fit in a plane
can't fit anywhere, in fact
except where we are, and we are pack

so we run, again and again
we are pack, in the night
not because it's right
not because it's wrong
not because we can
we RUN together because for that we STAND
see? love makes no sense