Tag Archives: poems by other poets

“Sic Vita” by Henry King

I awoke at a little after 3:30 this morning and got up in order to quench my thirst. As I moved through my home the cry of an owl reached my ears, which brought to mind “Sic Vita” by Henry King:

“Like to the falling of a star,
Or as the flights of eagles are,
Or like the fresh spring’s gaudy hue,
Or silver drops of morning dew,
Or like a wind that chafes the flood,
Or bubbles which on water stood:
Even such is man, whose borrowed light
Is straight called in, and paid to night.

The wind blows out, the bubble dies,
The spring entombed in autumn lies,
The dew dries up, the star is shot,
The flight is past, and man forgot”.

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Spellbound, by Emily Brontë

Emily Brontë is best known for her novel “Wuthering Heights”, which was published in 1847. She did, however also write poetry one of which, “Spellbound”, is a favourite of mine and is reproduced below:

“The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go”.

“The Invigilator” by Jayne King

Thank you to Jayne King for her poem, “The invigilator”. The below poem is copyright Jayne King and may not be reproduced without the explicit written permission of Jayne King.

Being an invigilator,
Is there anything more boring?
Scanning the hall.
Toing and froing.

Trying to be alert,
So I can respond quickly to a raised hand.
Wishing I could sit like the others.
But instead, having to stand.

How slowly the time passes,
Seemingly standing still.
There’s movement all around me,
But somehow the time stays still.

Seconds turn to minutes,
A minute lasts an hour.
Some students offer small, tired smiles,
Others just sit and glower.

“The Oak” by Dawn D

Thank you to Dawn D for kind permission to reproduce her poem, “The Oak”. The below is copyright and may not be reproduced without the explicit permission of Dawn D. Dawn’s blog is currently private. You can, however contact Dawn to request access.

The Oak

Die Eiche

Ich bin die Eiche.
Ich bin das Eichhörnchen, ich bin der Vogel, die in dieser Eiche leben.
Ich bin die Frau, die unter dieser Eiche vergewaltigt wurde.
Ich bin der Mann, der ab dieser Eiche gehängt wurde.
Ich bin der Wind, der durch die Blätter dieser Eiche fließt.
Es gibt keine Zeit, nur Ewigkeit.
Ich bin frei, ich bin stark. Ich bin Ich!

The oak

I am the oak.
I am the squirrel, I am the bird, that live in that oak.
I am the woman who got raped under that oak.
I am the man who got hung from that oak.
I am the wind that flows through the leaves of that oak.
There is no time, only eternity.
I am free, I am strong. I am Me!

(For the original post please visit, https://dawnsnight.wordpress.com/2014/02/05/poetry-2/).

“The Dead Man Walking” by Thomas Hardy

Thank you to my colleague Alison, for drawing my attention to Thomas Hardy’s poem, “The Dead Man Walking”. It is a powerful piece which does, I believe speake for itself, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZP1v54SeHY4

Ex (by Anon)

The Past Has Passed
Once upon a time
This heart of mine
Was broken by you
But now I’m no longer blue.
However, you seem to want me back
But as always you lack
To tell me how 
You truly feel now.
I’ve had to let you go
Because I now know 
Without the all important trust 
It simply won’t work.
Perhaps I’m a little colder 
Or wisdom came as I got older
But in my heart I feel it’s right
To bid our love a sweet good night.

I Remember, I Remember By Thomas Hood

A beautiful and poignant poem by the English poet, Thomas Hood. “thee tree is living yet” says it all.

I remember, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday,
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then
That is so heavy now,
And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow.

I remember, I remember
The fir-trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky:
It was a childish ignorance,
But now ’tis little joy
To know I’m farther off from Heaven
Than when I was a boy.