Roses are Red: A Poetry Club

Welcome to the Poetry Club. Here anybody can share poetry, whether it is an inspiring poem or quote by one of your favorite writers, or your own original writing that you want to request feedback on.

You can do more than read and post poems, but you can ask or give recommendations and resources, share videos or biographical content about authors, debate, leave info on poetry readings locally, anything related to writing goes.

A good place to start the conversation if you are interested in joining would be letting everyone here know what writers you like, though this is not required if you are feeling shy :)

My favorite poet is Pablo Neruda. His words are so lyrical, unusual and beautiful. I like many 20th century Spanish-language writers.

Here is a poem called Remorse by Juan Ramon Jiminez. It has stuck with me for many years. The translation is by Robert Bly.

"Time must have covered it over
with roses so
it would not be remembered.

One particular rose,
that has an unexpected magic,
on top of each lonely hour of gold
or shadows,
a place just right to hold painful memories.

So that among the divine
and joyful
climbing roses, scarlet, white,
which would leave no room for the past,
the soul would be
wound into
the body."

Below is the original text, titled Remordimiento.



We hope that you will join us in our humble cafe. Pull up a chair, chill with a book and have a cup of coffee while I play the bongos for you.

Members/ The Muses: TheGhostHunter, MysticalNinetales

I used to watch Turner Classic Movies a lot as a kid. I would curl up with my mum as she was gazing at movie stars from the days back when she was a little girl or from the generation of my grandparents.

There were no commercials, but in between the films there might be interviews with actors or tributes to their life work, retro trailers and sometimes short video montages like I am about to show down below. This is special and relevant because this was edited along with audio of a D.H Lawrence poem read by the great actor Jeremy Irons.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=lEeCw4hBqGc

Even though I was tiny I fell in love with this poem and how wistful and full of longing it was. I always remembered it.

When I finally hit freshman year I was required to do a biographical presentation on a writer as well as a reading of their work in my English class, I chose D.H Lawrence and picked this poem.

Lawrence was not actually a writer that we studied that year, and we were supposed to choose an author from our textbook. But my teacher saw how much this particular writer meant to me and gave me permission to do the report on Lawrence. I had find the poem, and print copies of it for all my classmates so they could have a reference, but I was happy to do it. My project went over really well, l the kids really liked it and my teacher gave me an A :)

SIGN.ME.UP. In all seriousness, this is a passion for me along with a form of therapy for some of the issues of having Asperger's and anxiety.

Hi! I must say that I have an unwavering love for all kinds of writing, poetry included and as of late I've had somewhat of an obsession of quote/poetry books. Anyways, It'd be my pleasure to be a part of this club!

I suppose my favourite poet/writer is Rupi Kaur. Her work never fails to allure me. Milk and Honey is my favourite piece of hers, though it is mainstream, I think it is real and raw and that's what I love about it. Each poem, every quote that she writes comes from the heart and has such meaning. Her emotions are conveyed through each and every word in such a powerful way.

I am not someone who writes poetry often (unless I am required to do so in school, that is). However, I used to be more inclined to write poetry when I was younger. Perhaps I'll share some of those ancient poems (ancient as I wrote them in 2-3 years ago). Most of them involve heartbreak of some sort and were written when I was rather crestfallen. While my work may instigate melancholy, I think it's important to reflect on past occurrences of sadness and it would ultimately be interesting to view my old poems.

Thinking of posting some scary poems for Halloween, if that's okay with you.

I am honored to have both Mystical Ninetales and TheGhostHunter as members. I will dust off this member list right sway and add you two. I already know that these we will be some great discussions with you here.

I haven't written poetry in years either, and can relate to Mystical Ninetales there. Usually I have to feel emotional to get posssed to write a poem. In my case it is win I feel in love.

I think you should review you old work. That is always an interesting experienced, you may be more impressed than you expect with what you did in your earlier years.

And please do give us your spooky poems GhostHunter! I would not miss them for the world. I was reading some Edgar Allen Poe lately, and am getting in the mood to hear more about the occult.

Prosetober: Day One

The Tale of Weeping Emma

Down by the old Angel Grove Cemetery, on a night when the New Moon is present,
When the fog lays on the hallowed grounds,
If one finely attunes their ears, they may catch the mournful wails of Weeping Emma.
But just how did this sorrowful specter come to be?
Well, my friend, today you shall come to know the tragic tale of Weeping Emma.

Our tale starts on any other day in 1878.
Weeping Emma, who was known to the living as Emma Alberton, was walking through the streets of town.
It was on this day that Emma caught the eye of a miner by the name of Robert Dart.
A young man who saught a way out of a life of toil sought the heiress of a fortune.
Over time, sparks turned into flames as both Emma and Robert grew closer, until Emma took the ring one day,
Together until death did them part.

One day, Robert was sent away on the job and Emma stated that she would wait for him by her window in her wedding dress.
Emma had waited for hours, candle lit, waiting for Robert to come home,
That was until the news chimed in that Robert had been killed in a mine collapse.
For days after the wake and burial, Emma had visited the grave to leave a flower, usually a lilac, and weep loudly.

One day however, the lilacs and loud mourning had ceased.
It wasn't until the undertaker did his rounds that all knew of Emma's fate,
Lying dead on Robert's grave, her face stained by tears.
Emma was buried next to Robert,
The stone reading, "Death did us part, but now we are together".

That was not the end for Emma, as you may now know.
For Emma did not get to join her sweetheart in the Great Beyond,
But trapped in the Realm of the Living, forever expressing the grief that took her so long ago.
Men are often told to avoid the cemetery during the New Moon, as the scent of lilacs are considered a harbinger of doom to them.
The question remains,
If you hear the sorrowful wailing of Weeping Emma, will you comfort her or flee in terror?

What a wonderful post by The Ghost Hunter! Thanks so much, this really set the tone for the month of October. I hate to bid it adieu, but Happy Halloween everyone.

We my fellpw poetry lover I would like to treat you to some dark treasure from the imagination of Edgar Allen Poe. I saw this exciting dramatization of Poe's Pit and the Pendelum in the film collection Extraordinary Tales. Every short is an adaptation of an Edgar Allen Poe poem or short story with narration by legendary stars from Bela Lugosi to Christopher Lee. The Pit and the Pendelum was my favorite.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PvJm8WYgN5U

For those of us who enjoy epic poetry I thought I would post this documentary I saw when I was very small about Dante's The Divine Comedy, and analysis of illustrations by Botticelli.



https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=fvV9CohMoQw

I know it has also been illustrated by William Blake. Somewhere I also have a reproduction of Picasso's drawings for the Inferno. There is nothing like seeing Picasso in person though. I have viewed Guernica at the Reina Sofia.

If anyone is up to jumping in analyzing Dante be my guest.

I have been neglecting this club for awhile, and thinking of coming up with a new theme. I'm thinking of a series called Words of Wednesday, sharing a new poem every week.

Words of Wednesday sounds like a fabulous idea! I suppose I'd better get my creative juices flowing so I can produce some quality poetry.

Also, TheGhostHunrer, your poem was beautifully written and I enjoyed reading it. I must say that Emma is quite the intriguing character indeed.

VisionofMilotic said:

What a wonderful post by The Ghost Hunter! Thanks so much, this really set the tone for the month of October. I hate to bid it adieu, but Happy Halloween everyone.

We my fellpw poetry lover I would like to treat you to some dark treasure from the imagination of Edgar Allen Poe. I saw this exciting dramatization of Poe's Pit and the Pendelum in the film collection Extraordinary Tales. Every short is an adaptation of an Edgar Allen Poe poem or short story with narration by legendary stars from Bela Lugosi to Christopher Lee. The Pit and the Pendelum was my favorite.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PvJm8WYgN5U

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Thanks! I would've posted more, but I was busy with school and whatnot. I might post the rest later.

I know this club has been inactive for quite some time but I've written a piece of poetry for school and I'd love to share it with everyone! It is quite a brief poem but I'm proud of it nonetheless!

Life is like a rose,
Blossoming through the night,
Vulnerable to the cold,
Fearing its chilling bite.

Life is like a rose,
Delicate and sweet,
Yet full of jaded thorns,
Often quite discreet.

Life is like a rose,
Blooming only temporarily,
Its fate sealed by time,
Yet enjoying the day merrily.

Life is like a rose,
So gentle and fair,
Prissy and prim,
Requiring love and care.

MysticalNinetales said:

I know this club has been inactive for quite some time but I've written a piece of poetry for school and I'd love to share it with everyone! It is quite a brief poem but I'm proud of it nonetheless!

Life is like a rose,
Blossoming through the night,
Vulnerable to the cold,
Fearing its chilling bite.

Life is like a rose,
Delicate and sweet,
Yet full of jaded thorns,
Often quite discreet.

Life is like a rose,
Blooming only temporarily,
Its fate sealed by time,
Yet enjoying the day merrily.

Life is like a rose,
So gentle and fair,
Prissy and prim,
Requiring love and care.

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What an incredible poem! I feel so moved by MysticalNinetales's writing that it has inspired me to come back to this club, and revamp it soon. Again, that was such a powerful read! Thank you for sharing it with us Lina!!

VisionofMilotic said:

What an incredible poem! I feel so moved by MysticalNinetales's writing that it has inspired me to come back to this club, and revamp it soon. Again, that was such a powerful read! Thank you for sharing it with us Lina!!

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Thank you so much! It's not too often that I attempt poetry, however it can be a fantastic way to express emotion. I look forward to the revival of this lovely club!

Topic: Children's authors.

One of the first experiences I remember with poetry as a kid was reading Shel Silverstein. Even though I am normally a bit of a slowpoke reader it was different with Silverstein. I would ravenously gobble up his rib-tickling words and crazy illustrations. My first book of poems by this writer was A Light in the Attic.

Here's a page out of another of Silverstein's divine book of poems Where the Sidewalk Ends.



I was delighted when I took an intermediate creative writing class sophomore year and one of our classmates wrote and illustrated a very ambitious poem called The Meat Grinder for our first assignment. The style was heavily inspired Shel Silverstein's work.

So my question for members is... Do you like any children's poets, or did ya growing up?

I come from a family where Christmas decorations stay up awhile. I found an amusing 17th century poem warning about mischief that comes from hanging holiday decorations up beyond their time. Legend has it the Christmas goodies attract uninvited guests. This what Robert Herrick has to say about that in his poem "Ceremony Upon Candlemas Eve"

"Down with the rosemary, and so
Down with the bays and misletoe ;
Down with the holly, ivy, all,
Wherewith ye dress'd the Christmas Hall :
That so the superstitious find
No one least branch there left behind :
For look, how many leaves there be
Neglected, there (maids, trust to me)
So many goblins you shall see."

I want to keep my tree to until Valentine's Day. Maybe I will see a goblin then if I'm lucky. Maybe they're like the house elves from Harry Potter?

VisionofMilotic said:

I come from a family where Christmas decorations stay up awhile. I found an amusing 17th century poem warning about mischief that comes from hanging holiday decorations up beyond their time. Legend has it the Christmas goodies attract uninvited guests. This what Robert Herrick has to say about that in his poem "Ceremony Upon Candlemas Eve"

"Down with the rosemary, and so
Down with the bays and misletoe ;
Down with the holly, ivy, all,
Wherewith ye dress'd the Christmas Hall :
That so the superstitious find
No one least branch there left behind :
For look, how many leaves there be
Neglected, there (maids, trust to me)
So many goblins you shall see."

I want to keep my tree to until Valentine's Day. Maybe I will see a goblin then if I'm lucky. Maybe they're like the house elves from Harry Potter?

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I love this poem! It's funny because my Christmas tree is still up, actually and my elder sister was making fun of my mother and I for leaving it up so long. We'll most likely take it down in the next couple of days, although I will miss it for sure. Christmas trees are so beautiful, I love to light it up and sit by it at night, a book, and a cup of chamomile tea in hand.

With Valentine's Day almost here I think it's the perfect time to highlight love poems. If anyone wants to share any romantic poetry be my guest, whether it's a favorite from an author you know or a poem you have written yourself.

My boyfriend and I had this really pleasurable weekend recently writing Haiku poems back and forth to each other. I might share one of the poems I wrote to hum later, but for today I was really in the mood to share a passionate and lyrical poem by French surrealist poet Andre Breton. It's called sometimes the Lovely Half-Light of 1934, or The Beautiful Half-Light of 1934. The translation from French I use here is by Mark Polizzotti, but there are a lot of translations of this that differ quite a bit in the interpretation.

In the the lovely half-light of 1934
The air was a splendid rosey hue the color of red mullet
And the forest when I first entered it
Began with a tree covered with cigarette-paper leaves
Since I was waiting for you
And since anytime you walk with me
Anywhere at all
Your mouth turns so happily into the enamel tip of an axel-tree
Around which a ceaselessly ascending diffuse blue broken wheel
of words revolves
Paling now and then in roadside ruts
Alluring wonders rushed over to greet me
A squirrel pressed its white belly against my heart
I've no idea how he remained poised there
For the earth was awash with reflections even deeper than those
In water
As if metal had finally split its shell
And you who were lying prone stretched out on a terrifying sea
of jewelry
Turned
Naked
Like a sunful of skyrockets
I saw you slowly removing from the radiolarians
The empty shells of the sea urchin I'd been
But wait I wasn't there anymore
I was casting my eyes to the skies because already my living casket
of white velvet had abandoned me
And I was sad
The sky between the leaves shone haggard and hard as a dragonfly
And I was just about to close both my eyes
When two wooden blinders which had flown apart suddenly
snapped shut once again
Without a sound
Like the two innermost leaves of an immense Lily of the Valley
A flower able to contain the entire night
So I was where you see me still
Amid perfumes chiming out in great pealing waves
But before they could spring open once again as each day they do
in this changing life
I had time just enough to fasten my lips
Firmly on your glass thighs

Since it is still the month of love I think I will share another love poem. This is by W.B Yeats, my boyfriend loved hearing me read this one.

The Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light;
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

VisionofMilotic said:

Since it is still the month of love I think I will share another love poem. This is by W.B Yeats, my boyfriend loved hearing me read this one.

The Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light;
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

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This poem is beautiful! I love it so much. The writing is tremendous, I now understand why you love it so much.

Here is a poem that I wrote some time ago:

The woman

She stood there,
Unmoving,
Her heart bare,
Unassuming,
With a glare,
Disapproving,
A cold stare,
A gleam in her eye.

She was sly,
Perhaps contrite
Like the northern sky,
A jarring sight,
Silent as a lullaby,
A fox in the night.

Her lips were red,
A scarlet letter,
Her soul bled,
Light as a feather
yet was undead,
She would get better.