I wondered lonely

I wondered lonley, as I sometimes do who is the greatest poet of all?


Back of an envelope


A summer evening Church yard by Shelly


As we all did ( and probably still do ) I wrote poetry my youth. I'm not sure if such a poll has been carried out on SFN before, but I would be interested to know your favourite Wordsmith, of all time?


So have your Wordsworth and let us know.


Tennyson


The Bard


Coleridge


Patten, ( I once did an illustration for him.)


Ayres


Duffy


Cooper Clarke


Partridge ( he's just written me a song )


Dylan


I like Shelly, as I lived in Lechlade Glos for many years and know the Churchyard well.


Here's the Top50 as an aid to memory.

Just been thinking, like you do

that say, Rap as an art-form is probably is best enjoyed audibly, as I gather intonation, rhythm, repeat phrasing and so on, sound better than they read on the page.

Much as Shakespeare. Also you can't read something which is often made-up as you go along ( freestyling )

Dylan Thomas's poems have a rhythm which capture the imagination, read or narrated, but probably would make cr*p

pop toons. Whereas Bob Dylan's toons would probably make cr*p written poems.

Listen up. With Dylan ( Zimmerman ) you get the whole package, enhanced by that who cares nasal vocal, and sh**e Gob Iron.

Love the words in this, apart from the one phrase... ride on a 'chrome horse' ( c'mon Bobby )

Saw him at the Bridge Hotel Wheatley on the circuit in nineteen hundred and duffel coat. Gob smacking.

Probably wouldn't have cracked it, if it weren't for the Byrds.

No one's mentioned The Man

If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dream
Where immobile steel rims crack
And the ditch in the back roads stop
Could you find me?
Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down
In silence easy
To be born again
To be born again
From the far side of the ocean
If I put the wheels in motion
And I stand with my arms behind me
And I'm pushin' on the door
Could you find me?
Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down
In silence easy
To be born again
To be born again
There you go
Standin' with the look of avarice
Talkin' to Huddie Ledbetter
Showin' pictures on the wall
Whisperin' in the hall
And pointin' a finger at me
There you go, there you go
Standin' in the sun darlin'
With your arms behind you
And your eyes before
There you go
Takin' good care of your boy
Seein' that he's got clean clothes
Puttin' on his little red shoes
I see you know he's got clean clothes
A-puttin' on his little red shoes
A-pointin' a finger at me
And here I am
Standing in your sad arrest
Trying to do my very best
Lookin' straight at you
Comin' through, darlin'
Yeah, yeah, yeah
If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dreams
Where immobile steel rims crack
And the ditch in the back roads stop
Could you find me
Would you kiss-a my eyes
Lay me down
In silence easy
To be born again
To be born again
To be born again
In another world
In another world
In another time
Got a home on high
Ain't nothing but a stranger in this world
I'm nothing but a stranger in this world
I got a home on high
In another land
So far away
So far away
Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven
In another time
In another place
In another time
In another place
Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven
We are goin' up to heaven
We are goin' to heaven
In another time
In another place
In another time
In another place
In another face

Thanks for the Stanley Unwin reminder Bruce, I remember him well, very funny, and very clever, I seem to remember him able to speak Unwinese 'freestyle'

Just Googled this out of interest

After Stanley Unwin died in 2002, he was buried alongside his wife, Frances, and their gravestone bears the inscription: "Reunitey in the heavenly-bode - Deep joy".

Ha. Deep joy.

I can't think of any wordsmith who might come close, Ronnie Barker maybe?

I think that sort of skill is quite amazing, I have known several people, twins, or family members who are fluent in their own ...Back Slang..is it?

I suppose poetry, as such takes, on a different dimension when recited. Rowan Atkinson does a hilarious... school register. haha

Do you have any that you can recite? or have written?

Yes Bruce,

I used to like john Lennon's drawings too.

Not forgetting John Lennon and Peter Cook’s “The Glidd Of Glood”. I think Stanley Unwin wandy as a clod allsorts.

I illustrated 'a small dragon' for Brian in the late 60s.

yes indeed, nice guys too

Roger McGough,
Brian Patten,
Adrian Henri

anymore rhymes? no reason.

excellent stuff Sheila.

Did you win yesterday BTW?

The Green Fields of France

Well, how do you do, Private Willie McBride?
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside?
And I'll rest for a while in the warm summer sun.
Been walking all day long and I'm nearly done.

And I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen,
When you joined the glorious fallen in nineteen-sixteen;
I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean,
Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?

Did they beat the drum slowly; did they sound the fife lowly;
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle sing The Last Post And Chorus;
Did the pipes play The Flutes Of The Forest?

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind;
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined?
And though you died back in nineteen-sixteen,
To that loyal heart are you forever nineteen?

Or are you a stranger without even a name,
Forever enshrined behind some glass pane,
In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained,
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?

Did they beat the drum slowly; did they sound the fife lowly;
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle sing The Last Post And Chorus;
Did the pipes play The Flutes Of The Forest?

Ah the sun's shining now on these green fields of France,
The warm wind blows gently, the red poppies dance;
The trenches have vanished long under the plow,
No gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now.

But here in this graveyard it's still no man's land.
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man,
And a whole generation who were butchered and damned.

Did they beat the drum slowly; did they sound the fife lowly;
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle sing The Last Post And Chorus;
Did the pipes play The Flutes Of The Forest?

And I can't help but wonder, Willie McBride,
Do all those who lie here know why they died?
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause?
You really believed that this war would end wars?

Well, the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame,
The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain;
For, Willie McBride, it's all happened again,
And again, and again, and again, and again.

Did they beat the drum slowly; did they sound the fife lowly;
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered thee down?
Did the bugle sing The Last Post And Chorus;
Did the pipes play The Flutes Of The Forest?

Did the bugle sing The Last Post And Chorus;
And did the pipes play The Flutes Of The Forest?

(Lyrics originally by Eric Bogle and widely performed in Ireland by various artistes including Davey Athur - video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Udz50XLF3I)

:)

"The evening hangs beneath the moon,
a silvered thread on darkened dune.
With closing eyes and resting head,
I know that sleep is coming soon.
Upon my pillow safe in bed,
a thousand pictures fill my head.
I cannot sleep, my mind is aflight
and yet my limbs seem made of lead.
If there are noises in the night,
a frightening shadow, flickering light,
then I surrender unto sleep,
where clouds of dreams give second sight.
What dreams may come, both dark and deep,
of flying wings and soaring leap:
as I surrender unto sleep.............
Sleep...

Goodnight to you all :-)

ooo do you have an example to show?

Poetry in motion can be anything that just captures your eye for a few seconds or minutes, bringing the smile back on your face after, let's say, you've left court :-)

An maith leat filíocht?

Hi Ben,

Poetry in motion sounds interesting. Modern Ballet or ( something different? )

I recognise a few you have listed, I would like to check them out. I will do later, but this morning I am fire fighting an external issue, as someone is threatening to sue me. hey ho

First of all I'm a fan of "poetry in motion", but after that:

A. Roland-Holst

H. Gorter

J.C. Bloem

J. Deelder

Lucebert

S. Vinkenoog

van Ostaijen

V. Hugo

C. Beaudelaire

J. Cocteau

D. van Assenede

@ She

you may well be right there Sheila!