Monday, September 11, 2006
Ridiculous poetry by yours truely
He smiles with style
His profession is bile,
Which most people think was vile
But his heart was wild,
A child of the Nile,
to the shock of rank and file
he then biked a thousand miles
exhausted he collapsed on a soft, fluffy pile
but later found out he is now sterile
Overcoming his denial
He walked through the aisle
that was decorated with tiles
A number he dialed to reach his friend Kyle
His name is Lyle
He smiles with style
His profession is bile,
Which most people think was vile
But his heart was wild,
A child of the Nile,
to the shock of rank and file
he then biked a thousand miles
exhausted he collapsed on a soft, fluffy pile
but later found out he is now sterile
Overcoming his denial
He walked through the aisle
that was decorated with tiles
A number he dialed to reach his friend Kyle
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Poésie pendant la mémoire
Odie (26 Jan 2006)
With the passing of night in town,
Turns our whole world upside down.
That which were touched by light
have disappeared out of sight
everyday seems to repeat
so frustrated, I admit defeat
why can’t I finish this thesis?
Can I just rip it into pieces?
Wish I could buy time
With my jar full of dime
Or write without stopping
And think not about mopping
But who’s going to do the chores?
When there are things all over the floor?
Guess they didn’t think people have lives
Outside working -- like bees in hives
Who's going to feed the cat?
Actually forget about that.
Who’s going to feed me?
I guess I can suppress the need.
For now concentration is what it entails
Need lots of that for me to prevail
Should I pray to God now?
Too bad I don’t know how
Arrrrrguh!!!!!!!
Sunday, February 15, 2004
From Ay to Bee (lyrics by Camouflage 1988, album Voices & Images)
The lonely day I've met you
Has changed my world
I can't exist without your smile
You pushed me up
You filled my days
You realize the right things
Which can help me everywhere.
Visions have incensed and destroyed
My mind
Voices would only explain
I have restricted the feelings
Of shame
But we can't
Put back the time
I just like this song! Camouflage is a 80's group that came from Germany. They're lyrics are quite deep (to me at least), but sometimes they use German grammar. That makes it even cooler. Too bad I don't hear much about them anymore. They really are great group.
The lonely day I've met you
Has changed my world
I can't exist without your smile
You pushed me up
You filled my days
You realize the right things
Which can help me everywhere.
Visions have incensed and destroyed
My mind
Voices would only explain
I have restricted the feelings
Of shame
But we can't
Put back the time
I just like this song! Camouflage is a 80's group that came from Germany. They're lyrics are quite deep (to me at least), but sometimes they use German grammar. That makes it even cooler. Too bad I don't hear much about them anymore. They really are great group.
Sunday, February 08, 2004
Smiling at the Village people
(Odie -- 8 February 2004)
Once again another day
The sun was shining.
heading for the subway,
with a book in hand
my back to the door
moving was the painted land.
Looking at the pages
dreaming of food
I stared into the leaf, pretending
That the page was good.
But why the sham?
Reading was not the goal.
For don’t you understand
the danger of eye contact on the metro?
ok, its a mischevious poem. but, of course there is a reason for it. he he he. for those of you who do not know what moving painted lands mean... in montreal every metro station is designed differently. some have drawings or paintings on it. i gues the one i'm referring to is the one at snowdon, where flowers are painted along the walls. its like a moving land when the metro starts to move. hehe
(Odie -- 8 February 2004)
Once again another day
The sun was shining.
heading for the subway,
with a book in hand
my back to the door
moving was the painted land.
Looking at the pages
dreaming of food
I stared into the leaf, pretending
That the page was good.
But why the sham?
Reading was not the goal.
For don’t you understand
the danger of eye contact on the metro?
ok, its a mischevious poem. but, of course there is a reason for it. he he he. for those of you who do not know what moving painted lands mean... in montreal every metro station is designed differently. some have drawings or paintings on it. i gues the one i'm referring to is the one at snowdon, where flowers are painted along the walls. its like a moving land when the metro starts to move. hehe
Tuesday, January 20, 2004
Innocent adorations
(Odie -- 18 Jan 04 ~ 19 Jan 04)
swinging your legs, climbing trees,
loving teddy bears, being free
these are the childish adorations,
that should perish once you grow
but to do so might bring you woe
society dictates its for those under a decade
but does it make sense for the love to fade?
why can’t you love the things you once did
why must you keep this under a lid?
here is a poem i wrote between around 11:40 pm at night and carried on into the next day, so i wasn't really working on it for two days. its about society dictating what you should or shouldn't like. i mean you have the rights to like anything you want, or so you would suppose. but people like telling you what you can and cannot like. what's wrong with liking the stuff you liked when you were a kid? why do people ask you "how old are you, again?" when you tell them you like stuff supposedly only kids like. why can't you like playing with rubber duckies? does it hurt anyone? geez!!!!
(Odie -- 18 Jan 04 ~ 19 Jan 04)
swinging your legs, climbing trees,
loving teddy bears, being free
these are the childish adorations,
that should perish once you grow
but to do so might bring you woe
society dictates its for those under a decade
but does it make sense for the love to fade?
why can’t you love the things you once did
why must you keep this under a lid?
here is a poem i wrote between around 11:40 pm at night and carried on into the next day, so i wasn't really working on it for two days. its about society dictating what you should or shouldn't like. i mean you have the rights to like anything you want, or so you would suppose. but people like telling you what you can and cannot like. what's wrong with liking the stuff you liked when you were a kid? why do people ask you "how old are you, again?" when you tell them you like stuff supposedly only kids like. why can't you like playing with rubber duckies? does it hurt anyone? geez!!!!
Intoxicated
(written by Odie -- 3 Jan 04)
blurred was the vision
slurred were the words
loud was the music
proud was the sound
limp were the hands
wimp he will not become
when it comes to challenges
din was shared around
not able to rule his gait
hot fury will not wait
large mister wino
charged like a rhino
ok, ok, it's no Goethe, but i never claimed i was a poet. i don't follow the rules -- the iambic pentameters or whatever you call it, the stress (the strain), the verse, the imagery -- all those literary thingamajiggies i don't fully understand. in school i didn't like poetry interpreting. i mean, why do they need interpreting? i always get the interpretation in reverse. so, i do mine like i mean it. the drunk dude was acting like an animal!!!
(written by Odie -- 3 Jan 04)
blurred was the vision
slurred were the words
loud was the music
proud was the sound
limp were the hands
wimp he will not become
when it comes to challenges
din was shared around
not able to rule his gait
hot fury will not wait
large mister wino
charged like a rhino
ok, ok, it's no Goethe, but i never claimed i was a poet. i don't follow the rules -- the iambic pentameters or whatever you call it, the stress (the strain), the verse, the imagery -- all those literary thingamajiggies i don't fully understand. in school i didn't like poetry interpreting. i mean, why do they need interpreting? i always get the interpretation in reverse. so, i do mine like i mean it. the drunk dude was acting like an animal!!!
Welcome to Odie's poetry corner. This wasn't part of the original idea for my website, but I was reading a poem from an old book I bought, and I became inspired to put up some poetry to amuse you people, including some of my own. And now, the inspirational poem, by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (music supplied by Franz Schubert, if you can find it. hehe).
Der Erlkönig
Wer reitet so spät durch Nach und Wind?
Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;
Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,
Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihm warm.
Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht?
Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht?
Den Erlkönig mit Kron und Schweif?
Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif.
„Du liebes Kind, komm geh mit mir!
Gar schöne Spiele spiel ich mit dir;
Manch bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand,
Mein Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand.“
Mein Vater, mein Vater und hörest du nicht,
Was Erlkönig, mir leise verspricht?
Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind;
In düren Blättern säuselt der Wind.
„Willst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir gehn?
Meine Töchter sollen dich watern schön;
Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn,
Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein.“
Mein Vater, mein Vater und siehst du nicht dort
Erlkönigs Töchter am düstern Ort?
Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh es genau:
Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau.
„Ich liebe dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt;
Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch ich Gewalt.“
Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faßt er mich an!
Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan!
Dem Vater grauset, er reitet geschwind,
Er hält in Armen das ächzende Kind,
Erreicht den Hof mit Mühe und Not;
In seinen Armen das Kind war tot.
Ok, ok, maybe the poem is a little sad, but its still cool. Man, this guy can rhyme. He also wrote Faust. I was able to read the translated version of Faust, part I (it was pretty funny), but part II I haven't found a translated version yet (I got the German version on my computer. I'll read it when I get the time). And boy, can those translator do a wonderful job! They even got the whole entire book to rhyme like the original German version. Its amazing. You just got to read Faust, if you haven't already. And then there was Die Leidens des Jungen Werther (I read that in both German and English)... that is a novel that Goethe wrote. This guy is amazing. Most of them have a melancholic tint to it all, but it makes you think. and besides, lots of German stories all end up tragically.
Oh, so you may be wondering what the poem is about.... I'm no master translator but I can give it a go... (in one big paragraph)
Who rides so fast through night and wind? it is the father with his child; he had the boy well in the arm, he holds him more securely, he holds him warm. my son, why do you hide your face in fear. do you not see, my father, the elf king there (uh, i'm trying to rhyme)? the elf king with a train of a robe. my son, it is a fog. "you darling child, come with me! lots of wonderful games will i play with you. Many colorful flowers are on the beach, my mother has many golden garment." My father, my father and do you not hear, what the elf king has softly promised me? be tranquil, stay tranquil my child, in dry leaves the wind rustles. "will you, my fine boy, go with me? my daughter leads the nightly dance and will rock and dance and sing you to sleep." my father, my father, and don't you see there? the elf kings daughter in that gloomy place? my son, my son, i see it exactly, that it appears the old willows so gray. " i love you, your beautiful human form charms me and if you are not willing then i will need violence." my father, my father, now he has got a hold of me! the elf king has hurt me! The father shudders, he rides quickly, in his arms he holds the moaning child, reaching the farm with effort and distress, in his arms the child was dead.
and there you have it, crummy translating by yours truly. maybe if i have time i can try that masterful translating of Goethe's poem in rhyme, but that will take a long, long while. so, what has my book to say about this poem. well, basically the power of imagination can do a kid in!!! uh, here are the exact words: "In this ballad, 'Der Erlkonig,' Goethe expresses in the figure of a feverish child the power of the imagination and the magical spell that natural forces can exert on human beings." So, this thing is a ballad?!?! What are those? And now some more poems, the first written by me. I will put some more up, either mine or someone else's when i find the cool ones i like.
(written 3 Jan 04, re-posted)
Der Erlkönig
Wer reitet so spät durch Nach und Wind?
Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;
Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,
Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihm warm.
Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht?
Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht?
Den Erlkönig mit Kron und Schweif?
Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif.
„Du liebes Kind, komm geh mit mir!
Gar schöne Spiele spiel ich mit dir;
Manch bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand,
Mein Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand.“
Mein Vater, mein Vater und hörest du nicht,
Was Erlkönig, mir leise verspricht?
Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind;
In düren Blättern säuselt der Wind.
„Willst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir gehn?
Meine Töchter sollen dich watern schön;
Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn,
Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein.“
Mein Vater, mein Vater und siehst du nicht dort
Erlkönigs Töchter am düstern Ort?
Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh es genau:
Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau.
„Ich liebe dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt;
Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch ich Gewalt.“
Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faßt er mich an!
Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan!
Dem Vater grauset, er reitet geschwind,
Er hält in Armen das ächzende Kind,
Erreicht den Hof mit Mühe und Not;
In seinen Armen das Kind war tot.
Ok, ok, maybe the poem is a little sad, but its still cool. Man, this guy can rhyme. He also wrote Faust. I was able to read the translated version of Faust, part I (it was pretty funny), but part II I haven't found a translated version yet (I got the German version on my computer. I'll read it when I get the time). And boy, can those translator do a wonderful job! They even got the whole entire book to rhyme like the original German version. Its amazing. You just got to read Faust, if you haven't already. And then there was Die Leidens des Jungen Werther (I read that in both German and English)... that is a novel that Goethe wrote. This guy is amazing. Most of them have a melancholic tint to it all, but it makes you think. and besides, lots of German stories all end up tragically.
Oh, so you may be wondering what the poem is about.... I'm no master translator but I can give it a go... (in one big paragraph)
Who rides so fast through night and wind? it is the father with his child; he had the boy well in the arm, he holds him more securely, he holds him warm. my son, why do you hide your face in fear. do you not see, my father, the elf king there (uh, i'm trying to rhyme)? the elf king with a train of a robe. my son, it is a fog. "you darling child, come with me! lots of wonderful games will i play with you. Many colorful flowers are on the beach, my mother has many golden garment." My father, my father and do you not hear, what the elf king has softly promised me? be tranquil, stay tranquil my child, in dry leaves the wind rustles. "will you, my fine boy, go with me? my daughter leads the nightly dance and will rock and dance and sing you to sleep." my father, my father, and don't you see there? the elf kings daughter in that gloomy place? my son, my son, i see it exactly, that it appears the old willows so gray. " i love you, your beautiful human form charms me and if you are not willing then i will need violence." my father, my father, now he has got a hold of me! the elf king has hurt me! The father shudders, he rides quickly, in his arms he holds the moaning child, reaching the farm with effort and distress, in his arms the child was dead.
and there you have it, crummy translating by yours truly. maybe if i have time i can try that masterful translating of Goethe's poem in rhyme, but that will take a long, long while. so, what has my book to say about this poem. well, basically the power of imagination can do a kid in!!! uh, here are the exact words: "In this ballad, 'Der Erlkonig,' Goethe expresses in the figure of a feverish child the power of the imagination and the magical spell that natural forces can exert on human beings." So, this thing is a ballad?!?! What are those? And now some more poems, the first written by me. I will put some more up, either mine or someone else's when i find the cool ones i like.
(written 3 Jan 04, re-posted)
