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DirtyMartini
Posted: Sunday, October 02, 2011 12:48:39 AM

Rank: Purveyor of Poetry & Porn

Joined: 10/19/2009
Posts: 5,843
Location: Right here on Lush Stories..., United States
Let me start by saying that I did not write this, and I don't normally post other people's work...in fact, I think this may be a first...but, I have to make exception here...after all, this is "The Greatest Poem Ever Written"...

Lee Goldberg, the rather witty poet responsible for this opus had sent me a note thanking me for my comment I had left over on Poetry Craze and we've been communicating since...I've been trying to con him into coming over to Stories Space, where I think he'd fit in like the last piece of a jig saw puzzle...and if you've read any of Maggie Rascal's work over there recently, you'd know exactly what I mean...

In fact, I have this sneaking suspicion that Lee and Miss Rascal may have been separated at birth...but, it's just a theory...

I just found this too entertaining to not share...

And so I present to you...

The Greatest Poem Ever Written...
Lee Goldberg

This is the verse to end all verse.

This is the mother of all great rhyme.

It is complex, inclusive, and therefore not terse.

It demands effort, concentration, analysis and time.



This opus touches every aspect of life.

It finds absolute truths we all desperately seek.

It pierces through nonsense like a red-hot steel knife.

It makes one tremble, and leaves the knees weak.



This work will surprise and astound and amaze.

It will thrill and inspire and give everyone hope.

The astute careful reader will be left in a daze

from its brilliance, truth, and limitless scope.



What soon follows in my humble voice

shall one day be holy to both wise and devout.

Critics will just laugh and deride poor James Joyce.

They'll wonder what all the big fuss was about.



The astounding words that I now pen

shall change the way all earthly beings exist.

A masterpiece like this shall never come again.

No longer will doubt, fear, or hatred persist.



The phrases forthcoming will be cherished like gold.

The message will summon as the coming of a savior.

The insights unearthed will be told and retold.

The power will forever change human behavior.



Prepare to be transformed, awakened, reborn.

Prepare for your new life about to begin.

The fabric of space-time is about to be torn,

but then re-stitched in harmony with yang and with yin.



Prepare to feel ecstasy and reverence and fear,

to sing and to cry and to dance like a child.

Prepare for the start of a transforming year.

Prepare for a walk that’s serene and yet wild.



Sit down, sit back, and taste every word.

Reflect upon all that will change world views.

Meditate deeply upon what’s about to be heard.

Then embrace the new time-line you’re empowered to choose.



And now at long last let the journey begin.

Let the ascendence to a new conscious level unfold.

Now let us shed our mundane earthly sin,

and put mortal faults and shortcomings on hold.



Let the great trip to inner peace start.

Let us rejoice in this transforming day.

Except that I just had a gargantuan mind fart,

and have completely forgotten what I was going to say!



It happens to us seniors. Please pay it no mind.

When my deep thoughts return then we’ll all be reborn.

Until then please try to stay patient and kind.

Or like me just relax and go watch some more porn.



Sorry.

Poet: Lee Goldberg




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magnificent1rascal
Posted: Monday, October 03, 2011 1:08:56 PM

Rank: Divine Rapscallion

Joined: 8/15/2010
Posts: 3,018
Location: On the ragged edge of disaster
I thought it was hilarious...just as you predicted I would. geek

Maggie Rascal
DirtyMartini
Posted: Monday, October 03, 2011 2:00:57 PM

Rank: Purveyor of Poetry & Porn

Joined: 10/19/2009
Posts: 5,843
Location: Right here on Lush Stories..., United States
magnificent1rascal wrote:
I thought it was hilarious...just as you predicted I would. geek


I'm reaching the conclusion that maybe you're not that hard to predict...happy8

Btw, I was discussing with Lee how I had started writing sex poems a couple of years ago, sventured into other subject matter and how my readership sort of grew in ways I never could have expected...like school kids reading my stuff to their school...

Anyway, he wrote me back this...

"Here is a brief rhyme that I hope immortalizes both your efforts and your metamorphosis. (And I hope it doesn't get you mad.)

An author who wrote on erections,
began doing serious selections.
Awards started coming
and instead of just cumming
his poems prompted serious reflections."

So, I'm immortalized...I guess...icon_smile



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magnificent1rascal
Posted: Monday, October 03, 2011 3:16:37 PM

Rank: Divine Rapscallion

Joined: 8/15/2010
Posts: 3,018
Location: On the ragged edge of disaster
Me, easy to predict? Not at all! bootyshake

(See, I'm guessing you didn't expect the booty shake...I'm a veritable riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.)

Congrats on your immortalization. It's better than mortification, at any rate. Lwinking


Maggie Rascal
DirtyMartini
Posted: Monday, October 03, 2011 9:16:05 PM

Rank: Purveyor of Poetry & Porn

Joined: 10/19/2009
Posts: 5,843
Location: Right here on Lush Stories..., United States
magnificent1rascal wrote:

Congrats on your immortalization. It's better than mortification, at any rate. Lwinking


Thanks for your congrats Miss Rascallness...and I love that slogan "Immortalization...it's better than mortification"...I might have to adopt that and post it somewhere...

And btw...I found out this morning that I won Poetry Craze's little monthly contest they hold, um, every month...they no longer give out a cash prize, but I've been wanting to win it for a while now...

Certain bragging rights, you know? Sort of like an Editor Pick here on Lush or something...

Here be the link...
http://www.poetrycraze.com/contest-winners.html

I have to say it's even more of an honor since I beat out "The Greatest Poem Ever Written"...sorry Lee...happy8


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DirtyMartini
Posted: Tuesday, October 04, 2011 1:44:43 PM

Rank: Purveyor of Poetry & Porn

Joined: 10/19/2009
Posts: 5,843
Location: Right here on Lush Stories..., United States
magnificent1rascal wrote:
I thought it was hilarious...just as you predicted I would. geek


I just want to note Miss Rascal that Lee is now officially the latest member of Lush's fine non-erotic site known throughout the free world as Stories Space...

I noticed that his mom had packed him a sizable lunch when she dropped him off this morning, so I expect he'll be staying a while...

I just have a sneaking suspicion that this represents the dawning of a new age in the history of the written word...but, it's just a hunch...happy8


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Guest
Posted: Tuesday, January 03, 2012 5:10:04 PM

Rank: Lurker

Joined: 12/1/2006
Posts: 674,139
1. The Road Not Taken


TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

the road not taken- robert frost
Guest
Posted: Sunday, January 15, 2012 2:01:16 AM

Rank: Lurker

Joined: 12/1/2006
Posts: 674,139
The greatness of 'The Road not Taken' lies in the fact that it has virtually nothing to do with country walks or rambles. The great poet comments on life using the commonplace.
Milik_Redman
Posted: Tuesday, January 17, 2012 5:57:15 AM

Rank: Internet Philosopher
Moderator

Joined: 8/14/2009
Posts: 4,760
Location: somewhere deep under the Earth, United States
That was absoutly hilarious
Who said Jazz musicians were more cool than poets!
DirtyMartini
Posted: Tuesday, January 17, 2012 7:29:52 PM

Rank: Purveyor of Poetry & Porn

Joined: 10/19/2009
Posts: 5,843
Location: Right here on Lush Stories..., United States
Milik_The_Red wrote:
That was absoutly hilarious
Who said Jazz musicians were more cool than poets!


I thought that rather entertaining myself...

Lee is now on both the red and blue sites now...he's RantingSenior...some of his other stuff is perhaps equally twisted, perverse, and demented...and I don't mean that in a bad way...happy8




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SigurdOokami
Posted: Thursday, January 19, 2012 12:26:01 PM

Rank: Forum Guru

Joined: 12/23/2011
Posts: 418
Location: At a computer, United Kingdom
Thats a great poem, i really liked it. But for me the greatest Poem ever is by Robert Herrick, I have a soft sport for it.

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
BY ROBERT HERRICK

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.

This post comes to you from the original and highly disorganised mind of mine...be scared, I certainly am, lol
tomc82d
Posted: Thursday, January 19, 2012 1:42:20 PM

Rank: Forum Guru

Joined: 1/12/2012
Posts: 147
Location: Hamilton, United States
The Raven


by Edgar Allan Poe
(published 1845)




Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by Horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!

or

Annabel Lee


by Edgar Allan Poe
(published 1849)




It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;--
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
She was a child and I was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love--
I and my Annabel Lee--
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud by night
Chilling my Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me:--
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of a cloud, chilling
And killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we--
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in Heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:--

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea--
In her tomb by the side of the sea.



Veni, vidi, vici" Julius Caesar 47 BC
Guest
Posted: Thursday, January 19, 2012 1:56:14 PM

Rank: Lurker

Joined: 12/1/2006
Posts: 674,139
Oh, I could hug you tomc82d. I love The Raven.

Big Hugs
tomc82d
Posted: Thursday, January 19, 2012 4:41:38 PM

Rank: Forum Guru

Joined: 1/12/2012
Posts: 147
Location: Hamilton, United States
Thank you NaughtyAnn, I love classic poetry.


Veni, vidi, vici" Julius Caesar 47 BC
Guest
Posted: Friday, January 20, 2012 1:01:19 AM

Rank: Lurker

Joined: 12/1/2006
Posts: 674,139
tomc82d wrote:
Thank you NaughtyAnn, I love classic poetry.


Yes, I love my poetry to rhyme, I don't like modern poetry (showing my age now lol)
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