Poets' Corner

Poets' Corner
Poets' Corner

Dienstag, 31. Mai 2011

The Queen's Darling

Tom Lehrer! TOM LEHRER! TOM LEHRER!  TOM LEHRER! Tom Lehrer!  He was an OK guy.


 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QEJ9HrZq7Ro

Sonntag, 29. Mai 2011


It’s not a very hard decision to love the poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, isn’t it?



"My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes
God set between his After and Before,
And strike up and strike off the general roar
Of the rushing worlds a melody that floats
In a serene air purely. Antidotes
Of medicated music, answering for
Mankind's forlornest uses, thou canst pour
From thence into their ears. God's will devotes
Thine to such ends, and mine to wait on thine.
How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use?
A hope, to sing by gladly? or a fine
Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse?
A shade, in which to sing—of palm or pine?
A grave, on which to rest from singing? Choose."


Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s XVII. Sonnet from the Portuguese

Samstag, 28. Mai 2011

Shakespeare's siblings


Shakespeare, it’s hard to say something. about him, what wasn’t told 100 times before and so I will surrender before even trying.
I prefer writing about Shakespearean, and to precise about: Charles and Hulda Wallace.

This couple moved from America to London and searched for nearly 10 years in the Public Record Office for documents of Shakespeare. The most discoveries (and they hadn’t many) were unspectacular. And so they went back to America after these 10 years, nearly broke and with very strained nerves.

But much worse: Wallace was under the delusion that he could recognize spouters with his pure eyes and so he bought with his last money  a piece of land in Texas…

Well and the most unbelievable event occurred: He found oil and became damn rich!

And what’s the moral of that story?
Just read Shakespeare instead of books about business studies!



"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

William Shakespeare's Macbeth (act 5, scene 5)









The photography  by courtesy of Khanan .

Freitag, 27. Mai 2011

The Art of Blogging

Juhu, here I am.
I will present some english poems, which i like. 
Till such time as cops will throw me in prison because of ignoring the Copyrights.
Well, I don't care - so long as I come to Reading Gaol, where I will  be in good company.
But I am sure I will also enjoy meeting your congenial acquaitance.

Well, enough of the prelude, let's start with the sophisticated part of this blog:

"There was an Old Man of the South,
Who had an immoderate mouth;
But in swallowing a dish,
That was quite full of fish,
He was choked, that Old Man of the South."

Edward Lear