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Nef Raven 07-04-2009 05:35 AM

How is it you see a door that leads to a place where you loved someone?

Where you would crawl into the grave with him should he die in your face>

Where you would actually bewill the catering of your heart spread eagle upon the coffin with rose pedals tossed and the world awatching.

You would stand and accept the most infinite fire that could stand still stupid next to what the heart feels along side the loss.

no One knows what that kind of love is. No One understands. Why were you withheld from it? Let it go forth as Love should have it.

No fleeing, no mourning, no pain, for what was left in the eyes of both is not to be observed thereafter.

God made the angels take what was meant to be and our mortal souls should do the same.

And so death made a fool out of my love and mocked me to be a witch. I hate the love I lost.

For that love forced me to live.

PoseidonsNet 07-05-2009 09:21 PM

ja, gnosis,

ya know, sis

Ben Burkhill 07-06-2009 02:12 AM


Originally Posted by Nef
I hate the love I lost.

For that love forced me to live.

I love the love I lost because that love forced me to live.

chingwenjing 07-06-2009 11:02 AM

The love is all we need.

Ca$hback 07-07-2009 05:43 PM

Love takes me further from clarity and self understanding.

Ben Burkhill 07-08-2009 01:08 AM

After that it will bring you home.

bystander 07-08-2009 02:42 AM

Time for a song

chingwenjing 07-09-2009 06:06 AM

This is a good song. I like it.

Nef Raven 07-11-2009 03:23 PM

Title -Appreciation of the Great Poets

Who is Keats?

Written in 1819, 'Ode on a Grecian Urn' was the third of the five 'great odes' of 1819, which are generally believed to have been written in the following order - Psyche, Nightingale, Grecian Urn, Melancholy, and Autumn. Of the five, Grecian Urn and Melancholy are merely dated '1819'. Critics have used vague references in Keats's letters as well as thematic progression to assign order. ('Ode on Indolence', though written in March 1819, perhaps before Grecian Urn, is not considered one of the 'great odes'.)

This ode contains the most discussed two lines in all of Keats's poetry - '"Beauty is truth, truth beauty," - that is all/Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.' The exact meaning of those lines is disputed by everyone; no less a critic than TS Eliot considered them a blight upon an otherwise beautiful poem. Scholars have been unable to agree to whom the last thirteen lines of the poem are addressed. Arguments can be made for any of the four most obvious possibilities, -poet to reader, urn to reader, poet to urn, poet to figures on the urn. The issue is further confused by the change in quotation marks between the original manuscript copy of the ode and the 1820 published edition. (This issue is further discussed at the bottom of this page.)

You can view part of the earliest known manuscript at this website. Please note that it is a transcription in George Keats's handwriting; Keats's original manuscript / first draft is lost.

crop from George Keats's manuscript copy of 'Ode on a Grecian Urn'


Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thou express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd legend haunt about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter: therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal - yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty," - that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.


Note: In 1997, Dennis Dean published an article in the Philological Quarterly titled 'Some Quotations in Keats's Poetry'. In it, he discussed the problem of the final quotation, linking it with the work of Sir Joshua Reynolds. I think it reasonably settles the 'quotation issue':

"In his "Ode on a Grecian Urn" Keats will say exactly the same thing, more elegantly but more cryptically also: "Beauty is truth, truth beauty"--surely the most famous equation in English literature and precisely correct in suggesting the Newtonian origin of the unstated "proof." Many readers of Annals of the Fine Arts would probably have recognized the source of Keats's equation in the writings of Sir Joshua Reynolds because of their familiarity with Reynolds and because the whole technique of allusion (or even short quotation) was fundamental to the neoclassicism in which both Reynolds and his readers had been educated.

In the second published version of 1820, moreover, Keats represents this portion, and this portion only, of the urn's utterance as a quotation--but as a quotation within a quotation. If one were free to punctuate the final pair of lines in the "Ode" according to present-day editorial practice, they would (in my view) look like this:

"'Beauty is truth; truth, beauty'--that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

The urn, in other words, begins by quoting Sir Joshua (for Keats and his readers, the world's greatest authority on art of all kinds), implicitly affirms the sufficiency of human intellect, explicitly affirms the equation of beauty and truth, and pronounces this knowledge entirely sufficient to create the elegant geometry of such superb art as the urn.

Because of the uniformity of human minds and passions, moreover, the figures inscribed on the urn (which puzzle the observer at first glance) become intelligible as we relate them to our own experience. The first stanza of the poem is filled with questions; the last, with none. Being art, the urn retains its ability to "speak" to all who observe it, reminding us of our paradoxical dilemma as mortals who exist in finite time."

Source: 'Some Quotations in Keats's Poetry' by Dennis R. Dean. From the Philological Quarterly. Volume: 76. Issue: 1, 1997.

Let's open the gate to it.

Love this.

Nancy08 09-16-2009 01:20 PM

Unlicensed Love

On a summer's day long, long ago
I fell in love and I'll never know
Just what it was that made me feel
So drawn to her, what the appeal
That set my pulses so to race
When e'er I gazed upon that face
Of one who was scarce but a child
Yet even then could drive me wild
I'll never know the how's and why's
I lost my heart to Hazel Eyes
But when I got that long sought kiss
I knew I'd found my Perfect Miss
My elfin girl from down the lane
And I'll never let her go again

For how could I describe our love?
Romantic love, all hearts and flowers
No way to count the days and hours
Spent in self-indulgent wishes
And thoughts of long awaited kisses
Of sweet embraces, tender sighs
And gazing into love filled eyes
Oh yes, it is that kind of love

Or, is it yet the love of passion
The ecstasy that knows no ration
That shuddering nerve-tingling feeling
The climax with your senses reeling
The wondrous joy when you discover
That sweet surrender to your lover
Oh yes, it's that kind of love too.

Or even yet a love that grows
One that cares and one that knows
That sees beyond the outer skin
Into the person deep within
That loves the spirit and the soul
The inner self that makes the whole
Built on trust and empathy
A love you know was meant to be

The love we share is all these things
A love that has no need of rings
A love you never need to doubt
A love I cannot live without
A love to last us all our days
A love I'll share with you always

- Jim Sharman -

Ben Burkhill 09-16-2009 03:09 PM

That was lovely Nancy - welcome to the cloud. :)

Storyteller 10-06-2009 01:08 PM

yeah...and welcome to all oethre members here who have cmoe to fc to escape the holocaust of sexual and ethnic discrimintaion which is pervading our society this day...i have spoken!

jacboot 10-30-2009 08:19 PM

Well put storytelling is an art we share. I see that you are on just 9 posts so would you like to tell us more about our views on this old world and its impending 8, once we have finally subdued the natives, how do we proceed to the next phase. I see even the hard west is in tears as the sons of light finally make their mark stick. I have a small problem with constant tailing of my movements of course real guns are always an issue with a miltary out of control. For this reason we have brought back up, as you will be aware the entity called Lam, is now in the dark space around this world and will shortly be decending.

Ca$hback 11-13-2009 11:28 PM

There is a rotting tree at the center of the earth where the worms devour the corpse of cupid, nailed to the tallest branch with his skin flayed.

PoseidonsNet 11-20-2009 09:19 PM


Originally Posted by Ca$hback (Post 442351)
There is a rotting tree at the center of the earth where the worms devour the corpse of cupid, nailed to the tallest branch with his skin flayed.


I know the feeling well.
But there are higher things in life than mere romance.
After all, cupid was never a major Deity.

Don't place your highest expectations in people.
Seek something greater.
J:leaf:H guide

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