poetry

DS

Fenderbender
I liked your prose and I hope you don't mind that I messed with it a bit:peaceful:
On porous borders and locked down credit,
what is true and who first said it.
Each morning, quiet, dark and still
as family wrapped against the chill,
a clarion call to end my slumber,
I wake and to this keyboard lumber,
Yet again we tread the tapestry of verse,
We who rather than rhyme would curse?
Putting forth our vile attempts at wit,
Well count me in with this small bit
and raise my voice on Brown Cafe.
where every one can have their say
Here I will be but never alone
Until that time in a year still unknown,
I raise my voice on Brown Cafe.
informal yet a place to learn
Where people show sincere concerns
I raise my voice on Brown cafe.
Thats it, thats all, I've had my say
 

bbsam

Moderator
Staff member
DS--
I will expect the royalty check within 10 days, thank-you.:happy-very::peaceful:
And of course I don't mind, knowing what imitation is, I am honored.
 

menotyou

bella amicizia
I thought my grandfather wrote that....saw it in his writing
in an old notebook...Who really wrote it?:dissapointed:

Dixon L. Merritt, an editor of a Nashville newspaper

Dixon Lanier Merritt (1879 – 1972) was a poet and humorist. He was a newspaper editor for the Tennessean, Nashville's morning paper, and President of the American Press Humorists Association. He penned this well-known limerick in 1910:[1]

A wonderful bird is the pelican,
His bill will hold more than his belican,
He can take in his beak
Enough food for a week
But I'm damned if I see how the helican!
or:

A funny old bird is a pelican.
His beak can hold more than his bellican.
Food for a week
He can hold in his beak,
But I don't know how the hellican.
The limerick, inspired by a post card sent to him by a female reader of his newspaper column who was visiting Florida beaches. It is often misattributed to Ogden Nash and is widely misquoted as demonstrated above. It is quoted in a number of scholarly works on ornithology, including "Manual of Ornithology: Avian Structure and Function," by Noble S. Proctor and Patrick J. Lynch, and several others.

Merritt served as Tennessee State Director of Public Safety, taught at Cumberland University and was editor of the "The Tennessean" and "Lebanon Democrat" newspapers and later contributed a column for many years called "Our Folks". During the 1920s he was the Southern correspondent for "Outlook" magazine, a weekly newsmagazine aimed at rural readers. He edited a comprehensive "History of Wilson County (Tennessee)" in his eighties. He worked for the U.S. federal government twice, around the time of both World Wars, and ultimately retired from the Rural Electrification Administration's telephone program office.

Merritt was a founding member of the Tennessee Ornithological Society. A nature center at the Tennessee Cedars of Lebanon State Park is named for him. He served as President of the Society of American Press Humorists. Following World War I he returned to the familial farm near Lebanon, TN and using portions of various cedar log cabins nearly one hundred years old assembled a new structure on a hill which he dubbed "Cabincroft". Croft being a Scottish word for a place of shelter. He maintained a working farm into his seventies preferring natural methods.

Born Dixon Lanier Abernathy, his parents divorced while he was a child and one of his five uncles subsequently adopted him. Upon achieving majority at age 21 Dixon legally changed his surname to Merritt, something he said he regreted later in life. Dixon Merritt was married twice, first to Hatton [need maiden name] Merritt of Kentucky ending in divorce with issue of a son and daughter (all deceased) and the second to Ruth Yates of New York with issue of two sons (still living as of January 2009).



[edit]References

^ Salt Grass Flats – Pelicans
This American poet-related article born in the 1870s is a stub. You can help


Wikipedia by expanding it.



I love columbo.
 

moreluck

golden ticket member
(I didn't write this)

E-MAIL...........

I still recall the three-cent stamp, and phone calls for a dime, And I remember that before E-Mail I had more time,

But somehow now, with anxious fingers I can't wait to see Exciting things that my Inbox has waiting there for me.

I turn on my Computer, click the Icon for the Net, And when I type my password in, my E-Mail I can get.

My messages sometimes are funny, and sometimes they're sad. Oft times they are informative, with news that makes me glad.

Some days I laugh my head off, and some other days I grieve, But each new message seems just like a gift that I receive.

I'm not confessing just how often, or how long I spend Receiving, clicking, viewing, typing messages to send;

And I am sure before E-Mail, I got a lot more done. But I must still admit that NOW...I HAVE A LOT MORE FUN!
 

curiousbrain

Well-Known Member
Allow me to appeal,
to your finer senses.
This might seem surreal,
but I love my oatmeal.

I cut up a banana,
and mix it in the bowl.
Even if I'm in my pajamas,
it's a breakfast bonanza.

It reminds me of a simpler time,
and brings a smile to my face.
I know this may not all rhyme,
but this Ode to my oatmeal
is a taste of the sublime.
 

UpstateNYUPSer(Ret)

Well-Known Member
My daughter's getting married
to some guy who's name I don't know
While I know I should be happy for her
it will be hard to let my little girl go

It seems like only yesterday
I was pushing her on the swing
Then she goes off to college
and some guy gives her a ring

I was always be her Daddy and she my little girl
but it just won't be the same
Instead of asking me for advice
she will turn to her husband James.
 

toonertoo

Most Awesome Dog
Staff member
Dave, I cant write a darn poem.
As a daughter, I will tell you. We always love and never forget our Dads, even when they are gone.
We dont always ask our husbands for advice, and if we do we usually check it out with you.
Our Dads are the perfect man, we only choose someone else since we cannot marry you. That would be illegal in most states. The man we pick has many flaws that you may see, you think we dont.
You know what else, you know why she loves him? he is like you were way back when...... and that is what scares you about "whats his name".
I could tell you a story of when I came to the understanding with my Dad. And I can tell you that no man will EVER take his place.
And no one will ever take yours in your daughters eyes.

A daughter is a daughter all your life
 

DS

Fenderbender
Upstate that was great...from the heart...


A fathers advice cannot be replaced,
If your wisdom till now has proved true
Your daughter will always respect your wise words
And she'll most likely be calling you.:wink2:
 

DS

Fenderbender
This is really long,but I thought it was good.
I found it at occidentaldissent.com

Mighty Thor Speaks to Us
Posted on February 19, 2010 by Robert Campbell
Nordicreb’s piece on love inspired me to dig up Jost Turner’s wonderful essay, Love: An Eternal Law of Nature, which examines the ethno-political corollaries of love from a National Socialist perspective. I posted it as a comment on that thread, and I hope OD readers find it interesting.

While rediscovering some of Jost’s writing, I was struck by the lack of material accessible through search engines, and sad to find that many of the links to his essays that I’d bookmarked over the years were dead; in fact, I could not even access them through archive.org. In light of this, I have decided to archive some of Jost’s work here on OD from time to time. I decided today would be a fine time to post his paean to Donar; “over the whole earth, still it is Thor’s day!”

Mighty Thor Speaks to Us

By Jost Turner & “Teffy”

The snow was fresh that mystic night,
And sparkled in our fire’s light.
The scent and warmth of burning pine
Had eased the chill of winter time.
The moon was full and climbing higher,
`though dimmed behind our smoking fire.
The coyotes howled and barked and screamed,
And water rushed through rocky streams.
We sat around our fire and told
Of heroes and of days of old.
We taught our youth here on this ridge
Their cherished ancient heritage.
We spoke of music, art, and Folk,
Within that frozen grove of oak.
We talked of honor and of right,
Expounding courage, strength and might!

But then we spoke of nowadays:
Our long lost tribe and alien ways,
Of governments which worship gold,
Of leaders who are bought and sold.
But as we spoke of death and doom,
A northern cloud obscured the moon!
A frightful wind began to blow
Which caused the trees to bend and bow.
As thunder crashed beyond the oak,
A form appeared in wind-strewn smoke.
It was a giant of a man
Who held a hammer in his hand!
As he approached we came to feel
The proper act would be to kneel.
But as we knelt, our heads low bowed,
His angry voice now thundered loud!


“Enough of this groveling and cringing!” he said
“I’ve no holes in my feet and no thorns on my head!
Why do you think that a God is a foe,
A being who judges and brings weal or woe?
You should understand that a God is a friend,
Yes, someone who’s like you, whom you comprehend!
This bowing and scraping is not what we need,
So pick yourselves up! Take a drink of my mead!”

Upright `fore him we stood in awe.
A warrior tall and proud we saw,
With fiery beard and sky-blue eyes.
We now began to realize,
Before us stood the mighty Thor,
That God of old, so famed in lore!
The wind now ceased, `though clouds remained.
A dreadful mystic stillness reigned.
He poured us mead, then shook his head,
And with a fearsome growl, he said:
“What’s natural in life is what’s sacred to me!
So very few people perceive this, you see.
Just look at the forest and see all these stumps!
The oceans have all become chemical dumps!
The beasts of the earth are all getting so rare!
Just look all around at the state of the air!”

He gnashed his teeth and flexed his arms,
Then calmed himself and smiled with charm.
The atmosphere now changed from fear
To one which gave us joy and cheer!

“By living in harmony with nature, you see,
All people can prosper as well as be free
From all these afflictions which plague man today!
They’re one and the same: nature’s laws and my way!
The forces of nature must e’er be preserved
For all to survive, this is truth, take my word!
And that is why so many temples of yore
Adorned the deep forest or graced the sea shore!”

He grinned as he looked up and down
At starless sky and snow-clad ground,
then stood there staring for awhile,
Still on his lips a gentle smile.
His eyes were sparkling like two stars,
His stance relaxed, his gaze afar.
Then suddenly he stood erect,
With muscles bulging in his neck.
He raised his fist up in the air.
His voice rose like a growling bear.

“Eschew alien ways and the preachers they suit!
And look deep within for your spiritual roots!
Your values, your virtues, and what it compels,
Yes, that’s your religion! You need nothing else!
Your heritage, culture! In this you should delve!
You must understand your religion’s yourselves!
For you are the Gods and they’re you, yes indeed!
I’m just a reflection of all you should be!”

Then Thor relaxed and gave a smile.
He spoke again with earnest style:

“Your purpose in life, like all creatures on earth,
Is insuring ennoblement, virtues and worth,
And high evolution for your kind of man!
For this aspiration do all that you can!
By natural selection does all nature thrive,
Insuring the best in each species survives!
The next generations need planning and thought:
Intelligence, character, strength should be sought!
One thing you should learn now before it’s too late:
To exercise care when selecting a mate!
Besides procreation you should realize
Your ongoing purpose is to service the tribe.
There’s no higher virtue than such sacrifice.
Without selfless service there’s no joy in life!”

The voice of Thor now raised in pitch,
And thundered through that forest niche.

“Remember your heritage rests with the youth!
So teach them these values, these virtues, this truth!
Your kinsmen of old placed much value in strength:
A virtue which should be considered at length!
For weaklings are creatures which never survive,
and that’s not just muscles, but all that’s inside!
Extol self-reliance, and pull your own weight!
Now make that your way or be slaves to the State!
Adversity’s seen as a challenge, you see,
So meet it with zeal, an adventure indeed!
Now fight to the death for what’s deemed to be right!
Your kinsmen of old never fled from a fight!
Live life to the fullest! Enjoy all the best!
And when you meet death, have a smile and a jest!”
He paused a bit and took a drink,
And then with sadness, said: “I think
That these days it’s
Just about gone out of mode,
But in olden times we lived by honor’s code!
We need to revive it and make it our way.
To live life with honor is needed today.
Aspire to this virtue,don’t let yourself fail!
It’s so very simple, here’s what it entails:

First loyalty to family, to Folk and to tribe,
In all circumstances, where’er you reside!
Of sanctity of word, let there ne’er be a dearth;
Don’t ever forget that your word is your worth!
Now fairness in dealings is truly admired,
Your honesty’s certainly always required!
Another requirement’s to squarely face life
With courage, no matter the trouble or strife!
Yes, loyalty, honesty, worth in your word,
And courage! They’re all what your honor infers!”

We ventured now to question Thor
About occult and mystic lore.
He laughed aloud and slapped his side,
His voice resounding far and wide.

“These matters were pondered by mortals for years.
The answers they gave produced torment and tears!
Don’t bother yourself with that hereafter lore,
There’s so much on earth to prepare yourselves for!
Leave questions like that to the whimpering kind.
Face death as adventure, fear not what you’ll find!
Forget all that dogma, it breeds only strife!
Observance of nature solves mysteries in life.”

Thor drank some mead and wiped his chin,
Then winked his eye and spoke again:

“Yes, truth lives in nature and this I must say:
Things only make sense when approached nature’s way!
By strength of the will and the power of mind,
You’ll understand all of the mysteries you find,
For mysteries of death and the mysteries of fate,
Your mind has the power. Explore and create!”

His voice then lowered just a tad.
His gaze seemed just a little sad.

“Now this is no secret but ought to be said:
Although I’m a God I may one day be dead!
If Gods were immortal they could not inspire
A natural life with its zest and its fire!
If Gods were immortal they could not know fear,
Or courage, how boring, the thought brings a tear!
Remember: I’m just a reflection of you,
Of all that you are and of all that you do!
And I only live for as long as my tribe.
As long as you’re living then I shall survive!”

But then he laughed and clenched his fist,
His hammer raised in smokey mist.
With beaming face, that mighty Thor
Elaborated still some more:

“Now each needs their own inspirational light
To guide them all on to those spiritual heights.
Some follow the warrior: to them life’s a war.
To others the virtue of love offer more.
It makes little difference so long as we feel
Inspired with joy and with spiritual zeal!”

He raised his horn up towards an oak,
Then shook with joy and blithely spoke:

“For spiritual experience I must recommend
An old universally uplifting trend!
In feasting and dancing there’s naught to annoy,
Since these are all expressions of joy!
For joy is a natural part of our being.
Experiencing joy is experiencing me!
So sing and be merry, yes, dance and have fun!
It’s natural and should be religiously done!
But spiritual joy should not end at the fest.
To realize joy is a spiritual quest!
Don’t ever be gloomy! Don’t ever be sour!
Be lighthearted always for spiritual power!”

We stood there silently entranced
And gazed at him with eyes that danced.
His inspiration had instilled
Determination, strength of will.
To us, he represented all
Our aspirations, great and small.
We saw within his sky blue eyes,
the joy of being strong and wise.
He now put forth one final thought:

The essence of those things he’d taught.
“You should realize though I have been concise
That all that I’ve said shows a great way of life!
Religion is something that binds you this way,
It’s needed and useful and joyful each day!
Your religion’s yourself, and you know what that means:
Your heritage! Values! The fruit of your genes!”

He offered one last drink of mead.
We knew ’twas time for him to leave.
He drained his horn and wiped his mouth,
As moonlight glimmered from the south.
We saw the clouds begin to clear,
The southern stars had reappeared.
But then a wind began to blow,
Again the trees did bend and bow,
And, as the thunder loudly spoke,
Thor faded back into the smoke.
 

Brownsfan

Well-Known Member
I thought i had money untill i paid of all my debt
Sadly i look around at all the stuff i have left.
It aint much to look at.
 

Signature Only

Blue in Brown
I'm driving through the sand
Just left the Imam's shack
Traveling down to Iraq
With a bomb strapped on my back

I got through checkpoint A
But not through checkpoint B
Cause that's where I was shot in the ass
By the U.S. Military
 

curiousbrain

Well-Known Member
I arise quite early every morn,
and shake the shroud of yesterday.
I renew my oath to resist forlorn,
despite the relatively low pay.
This gauntlet I conquer daily,
due to the people next to me.

Your body broken with a weakened soul,
I observe you with profound sorrow.
This tragedy is beyond my own control,
I promise I will try even harder tomorrow.
This perdition I witness daily,
due to the people next to me.

The people next to me are strong,
much more so than I will ever be.
They forfeit themselves all day long,
and show me the meaning of dignity.
This miracle I record daily,
due to the people next to me.

I saw you today about to fall apart,
which cast my own constitution in doubt.
This insignificant gift do I thus impart,
as you kill yourself day in and day out.
This sin I contemplate daily,
due to the man next to me.

Who I am is not important,
so you need not wonder;
the significance of this rant,
should be as clear as thunder.
This bedlam visits us all daily,
as I am the person next to you.
 
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