Poetry On Facebook

So in recent days, people have been posting random bits of poetry here and there. It’s on a meme that I enjoy reading. Here’s the one I’ve done today. Will post the other that [Karcy] assigned me in a bit:

Part 2: The idea is to flood Facebook with poetry. Anyone who clicks ‘like’ gets assigned with a poet.

This one’s a two in one, since one’s a voice and the other’s an actual poem.

Daughter Anchovy gave me Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and I’ve chosen The Poet’s Vow: http://www.4shared.com/mp3/3VP4_Bm_ba/The_Poets_Vow.html

Actual poem can be read here: http://www.litscape.com/author/Elizabeth_Barrett_Browning/The_Poets_Vow_Part_1_Wherefore_The_Vow_Was_Made.html

The other was by Ultra, who assigned me Pablo Neruda. I ended up choosing “Cat’s Dream” which pretty much fits my mood right now:

Cat’s Dream

How neatly a cat sleeps,
sleeps with its paws and its posture,
sleeps with its wicked claws,
and with its unfeeling blood,
sleeps with all the rings–
a series of burnt circles–
which have formed the odd geology
of its sand-colored tail.

I should like to sleep like a cat,
with all the fur of time,
with a tongue rough as flint,
with the dry sex of fire;
and after speaking to no one,
stretch myself over the world,
over roofs and landscapes,
with a passionate desire
to hunt the rats in my dreams.

I have seen how the cat asleep
would undulate, how the night
flowed through it like dark water;
and at times, it was going to fall
or possibly plunge into
the bare deserted snowdrifts.
Sometimes it grew so much in sleep
like a tiger’s great-grandfather,
and would leap in the darkness over
rooftops, clouds and volcanoes.

Sleep, sleep cat of the night,
with episcopal ceremony
and your stone-carved moustache.
Take care of all our dreams;
control the obscurity
of our slumbering prowess
with your relentless heart
and the great ruff of your tail.

This was the original I posted yesterday:

To be honest, I did not read a lot of poetry when I was a kid. Neither a lot of them as an adult. I know mainly what I learnt as part of English literature in school. This includes Roald Dahl. However, I liked this poem, because as a kid, I used to daydream about getting really horrible teachers, just so I could “fit in” with people my age, who all seemed to have at least ONE of those really horrible teachers.

Edited to add: This was assigned by Karcy and I should probably sleep now.

“My teacher wasn’t half as nice as yours seems to be”

‘My teacher wasn’t half as nice as yours seems to be.
His name was Mister Unsworth and he taught us history.
And when you didn’t know a date he’d get you by the ear
And start to twist while you sat there quite paralysed with fear.
He’d twist and twist and twist your ear and twist it more and more.
Until at last the ear came off and landed on the floor.
Our class was full of one-eared boys. I’m certain there were eight.
Who’d had them twisted off because they didn’t know a date.
So let us now praise teachers who today are all so fine
And yours in particular is totally divine.’