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Aunt Dora Baggins
Elvenhome
Dec 29 2012, 4:55pm
Post #1 of 10
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Interest seems to be waning for this, and while I'm on Christmas break I keep forgetting it, so I may not put it up regularly. If anyone misses it and wants to start a thread any time, I won't be put out.
Since Uncle Baggins has a cold, I'll put up one of Ogden Nash's many poems about having a cold.
One Third of the Calendar
In January everything freezes.
We have two children. Both are she'ses.
This is our January rule:
One girl in bed, and one in school.
In February the blizzard whirls.
We own a pair of little girls.
Blessings upon of each the head ––
The one in school and the one in bed.
March is the month of cringe and bluster.
Each of our children has a sister.
They cling together like Hansel and Gretel,
With their noses glued to the benzoin kettle.
April is made of impetuous waters
And doctors looking down throats of daughters.
If we had a son too, and a thoroughbred,
We'd have a horse,
And a boy,
And two girls
In bed.
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"For DORA BAGGINS in memory of a LONG correspondence, with love from Bilbo; on a large wastebasket. Dora was Drogo's sister, and the eldest surviving female relative of Bilbo and Frodo; she was ninety-nine, and had written reams of good advice for more than half a century."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"A Chance Meeting at Rivendell" and other stories
leleni at hotmail dot com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Ethel Duath
Gondolin
Dec 29 2012, 6:10pm
Post #2 of 10
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Aack! No we musssn't lose our Poetry Thread, Precious! (Aatchoo! ;] )
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I'm hoping it's the Holidays, and people are just not on the boards as much right now . Maybe keep it up till the end of January as a regular thing, and then see if others will take turns? I really think it's worth continuing if at all possible. 
Gesundheit.
And best wishes to Uncle Baggins for a speedy recovery!
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Ethel Duath
Gondolin
Dec 29 2012, 6:27pm
Post #3 of 10
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Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, arrives the snow.
by Ralph Waldo Emerson
In the depths of winter I finally learned
there was in me an invincible summer.
by Albert Camus
First Snow
by Mary Louise Allen
Snow makes whiteness where it falls
The bushes look like popcorn balls
And places where I always play
Look like somewhere else today
Beautiful feathery flakes of snow
Over the woodland and field they go
Making a blanket so warm and deep
Over the flowers that lie asleep
Winter Morning Poem
by Ogden Nash
Winter is the king of showmen
Turning tree stumps into snow men
And houses into birthday cakes
And spreading sugar over lakes
Smooth and clean and frosty white
The world looks good enough to bite
That's the season to be young
Catching snowflakes on your tongue
Snow is snowy when it's snowing
I'm sorry it's slushy when it's going
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Ethel Duath
Gondolin
Dec 29 2012, 6:29pm
Post #4 of 10
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William Blake in Middle Earth?
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He almost seems to be describing something one would experience there, up north somewhere . . .
To Winter
William Blake (from Poetical Sketches, 1783)
O winter! bar thine adamantine doors:
The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark
Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs
Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.
He hears me not, but o’er the yawning deep
Rides heavy; his storms are unchain’d, sheathed
In ribbed steel; I dare not lift mine eyes;
For he hath rear’d his sceptre o’er the world.
Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings
To his strong bones, strides o’er the groaning rocks:
He withers all in silence, and in his hand
Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.
He takes his seat upon the cliffs, the mariner
Cries in vain. Poor little wretch! that deal’st
With storms, till heaven smiles, and the monster
Is driven yelling to his caves beneath Mount Hecla.
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Aunt Dora Baggins
Elvenhome
Dec 29 2012, 7:26pm
Post #5 of 10
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You've come up with some great winter poems. Here's my favorite:
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I've posted this one here before. It has a very Tolkien-ey feel to it.
Hanover Winter Song
by Richard Hovey (1864-1900), 1898
Ho, a song by the fire;
Pass the pipes, pass the bowl.
Ho, a song by the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Ho, a song by the fire;
Pass the pipes with a skoal,
For the wolf-wind is wailing at the doorways,
And the snow drifts deep along the road,
And the ice gnomes are marching from their Norways,
And the great white cold walks abroad.
But, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here, we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows;
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship.
Oh, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha, we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows.
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship,
Of fellowship
Pile the logs on the fire;
Fill the pipes, pass the bowl.
Pile the logs on the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Pile the logs on the fire;
Fill the pipes with a skoal,
For the fire goblins flicker on the ceiling,
And the wine witch glitters in the glass,
And the smoke wraiths are drifting, curling, reeling,
And the sleigh bells jingle as they pass.
But, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here, we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows;
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship.
Oh, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha, we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows.
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship,
Of fellowship
Oh, a God is the fire;
Pull the pipes, drain the bowl.
Oh, a God is the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Oh, a God is the fire;
Pull the pipes with a skoal,
For the room has a spirit in the embers,
Tis a God and our fathers knew his name,
And they worship'd him in long-forgot Decembers,
And their hearts leap'd high with the flame.
But, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here, we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows;
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship.
Oh, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha, we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows.
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship,
Of fellowship
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"For DORA BAGGINS in memory of a LONG correspondence, with love from Bilbo; on a large wastebasket. Dora was Drogo's sister, and the eldest surviving female relative of Bilbo and Frodo; she was ninety-nine, and had written reams of good advice for more than half a century."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"A Chance Meeting at Rivendell" and other stories
leleni at hotmail dot com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(This post was edited by Aunt Dora Baggins on Dec 29 2012, 7:27pm)
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Kimi
Forum Admin
/ Moderator
Dec 29 2012, 8:13pm
Post #6 of 10
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here's a winter poem by Thomas Hardy that seems appropriate for more reasons than one. :)
The Darkling Thrush
Leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seem'd to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seem'd fervourless as I.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carollings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessèd Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.
The Passing of Mistress Rose
My historical novels
Do we find happiness so often that we should turn it off the box when it happens to sit there?
- A Room With a View
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Kimi
Forum Admin
/ Moderator
Dec 29 2012, 8:27pm
Post #7 of 10
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by Anglo-Kiwi poet Mary Ursula Bethell:
Time
‘Established’ is a good word, much used in garden books,
‘The plant, when established’ . . .
Oh, become established quickly, quickly, garden
For I am fugitive, I am very fugitive –
Those that come after me will gather these roses,
And watch, as I do now, the white wistaria
Burst, in the sunshine, from its pale green sheath.
Planned. Planted. Established. Then neglected,
Till at last the loiterer by the gate will wonder
At the old, old cottage, the old wooden cottage,
And say ‘One might build here, the view is glorious;
This must have been a pretty garden once.’
The Passing of Mistress Rose
My historical novels
Do we find happiness so often that we should turn it off the box when it happens to sit there?
- A Room With a View
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Ciars
Nargothrond
Dec 29 2012, 9:13pm
Post #8 of 10
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Sympathy for uncle Baggins' cold, I'm dodging relatives who greet me with sneezes at the moment!! I can see that many view this thread though not all contribute, so with time, others may also wish to join in, it's a great idea to share poems and enjoy the twists, the turns and to travel down the path that language and imagery create.....
I like this poem about the new year...
"What can be said in New Year rhymes,
That's not been said a thousand times?
The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.
We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.
We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.
We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our prides, we sheet our dead.
We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that's the burden of a year."
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
(This post was edited by Ciars on Dec 29 2012, 9:21pm)
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One Ringer
Dor-Lomin
Dec 29 2012, 9:42pm
Post #9 of 10
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I've been reading through Carrol's Alice books,
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So many poems to be noted, but Jabberwocky is always one that stands out for me:
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
This is also a nice treat to go with it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c8NJneIVXJA. **Jabberwocky begins at the 5:18 time mark, but hearing him read Ode to a Nightingale is equally awesome! 
FOTR 10th Anniversary Music Video - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=33xJU3AIwsg
"You do not let your eyes see nor your ears hear, and that which is outside your daily life is not of account to you. Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain."
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silneldor
Gondolin
Dec 30 2012, 2:24am
Post #10 of 10
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TREES OF THE FRAGRANT FOREST
Trees of the fragrant forest,
With leaves of green unfurled,
Through summer's heat, through winter's cold,
What do you do for our world?
Our green leaves catch the raindrops
That fall with soothing sound.
Then drop them slowly, slowly down,
Tis better for the ground.
When, rushing down the hillside,
A mighty fresher foams,
Our giants trunks and spreading roots
Defend your happy homes.
From burning heat in summer
We offer cool retreat,
Protect the land in winter storm
From cold, and wind and sleet.
Our falling leaves in autumn
By breezes turned and tossed,
Will rake a deep sponge-carpet warm,
Which saves the ground from frost.
We give you pulp for paper,
Our fuel gives you heat;
We furnish lumber for your homes,
And nuts and fruit to eat.
With strong and graceful outline,
With branches green and bare,
We fill the land through all the year,
With beauty everywhere.
So Listen! From the forest
Each one a message sends
To children this Arbor Day;
"We trees are your best friends!"
What does he plant who plants a tree?
He plants the friend of sun and sky;
He plants the flag of breezes free;
The shaft of beauty, towering high;
He plants a home to heaven anigh
For song and mother-croon of bird
In hushed and happy twilight heard -
The treble of heaven's harmony
These things he plants who plants a tree.
- Henry Cuyler Bunner, The Heart of the Tree
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