Tributes/Odes

ODE TO AUTUMN

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing, and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
(By John Keats)

Author's Notes/Comments: 

In a letter written to Reynolds from Winchester, in September, 1819, Keats says: 'How beautiful the season is now--How fine the air. A temperate sharpness about it. Really, without joking, chaste weather--Dian skies--I never liked stubble-fields so much as now--Aye better than the chilly green of the spring. Somehow, a stubble-field looks warm--in the same way that some pictures look warm. This struck me so much in my Sunday's walk that I composed upon it.' What he composed was the Ode To Autumn.

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LINES WRITTEN ON AMY WINEHOUSE

A young, music diva says farewell,
To her temporary worldly abode here,
While her fans are unable to 'tell',
The grief that makes them shed tears.

Amy Winehouse, a singer, a bright star,
Bid her adieu after 27 years,
Gaining little through riches and fame,
And losing a lot to her perceived fears.

Depressed, forlorn and all on her own,
Winehouse could not come to terms,
With the harsh realities of this world,
And fed up, her soul left, without a groan.

Artists, musicians, scientists, thinkers,
Are gifted with a super-sensitive mind,
And some of them are not able to cope,
The grim heartlessness of what they find.

Talented souls with an imagination,
Give so much to this cold and sullen Earth,
Yet all that they get back is dejection,
Deception, ingratitude and hollow mirth.

Elvis, Jackson, Andy Gibbs, Amy,
Are just a few genuine ones out there,
Who came here to leave, weary, lonely,
With admirers, pining, everywhere.

Depression claims one when there is none,
To offer a caring shoulder or true love,
When hypocrisy, selfishness and betrayal,
Like to wreak havoc and enjoy the 'fun'.

Farewell Amy! May your soul find peace,
In the dimension where all of us must go,
I am aware of your shattered self that left,
And why your Maker decided to cease,
The breath which made your heart beat,
And made you see a lot more than what,
An ordinary mortal can even fathom,
You had to leave -- You embraced 'defeat'.

To live in this world -- a falsehood cage,
Is indeed hard for hypersensitive souls,
To survive here one needs more courage,
And tact too -- which can defy damage --
-- Caused by constant back-stabbing,
And treachery along with evil guile,
Amy, like Elvis, you didn't guard yourself,
And fell too soon to envious vile.
(Written and posted by Muhammad Naveed Ahmed/Emmenay on July 25, 2011).

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Amy Winehouse was one of the few talented soul singers who delighted music lovers everywhere. The diva died at the age of 27 and left several mourning. In this poem I have tried to portray a scene of the depression which gripped her and caused her to say farewell to the world we live in. It is a tribute to Amy as well as a depiction of the age in which artists and any one with a gifted imagination and extraordinary skills cannot endure here for long.

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A TRIBUTE TO MY COMPANIONS

Melody
Gardot and Stacey Kent
Are soothers to disturbed souls.
Norah Jones,
Diana Krall and Barbra Striesand
Are also voices that can heal,
A hurt heart,
A restless spirit,
Fed up with this world's falsehood.
Al Stewart
Is still the same voice,
A voice which I can't forget.
These artistes,
Cannot ever die,
For seekers of peace, like me.
In my quest,
For beauy-truth, truth-beauty,
These singers make life easy.
Love complains,
Says I don't need her,
One day she will know the truth.
Till then, I,
Must find some solace,
So thank you to all singers:
Stacey Kent,
Ms. Jones, Krall and Saigal,
Ms Gardot,
And Barbra Streisand,
And pathos-filled Al Stewart.
And thank you,
To my friend "Donna',
For reverting me to my goal.
Mystic Cross
In my palms foretells,
The destiny which is mine.
Orpheus*,
Rumi* and Ghalib*,
Iqbal*, Pushkin* and Kabeer*
And Khayyam*,
Faiz Ahmed Faiz*, Faraz
Meer Taqi Meer and Majaz*
We all are,
Soul companions,
Like the Bard, Keats, Emily.
We seek peace,
And tranquility,
For not just us, but for all.
(Written and posted by Muhammad Naveed Ahmed/Emmenay on May 3, 2011).

Author's Notes/Comments: 

*ORPHEUS: A Greek musician who is said to have possessed such mastery of music that he could make the "trees bow" and the "storms calm down" with his tunes and harmonies. He is mentioned more in William Shakespeare's plays especially Richard II.

*RUMI: The first Muslim mystical philosopher, thinker and poet.

*GHALIB: Full name Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib, regarded by almost every Urdu poet as the "mentor" of them all. Ghalib lived in British India from 1797 to 1869. He had an extremely struggling life yet he rose above his tribulations and embellished poetry with some rare and unparalleled mystical insights.

*IQBAL: Full name is Dr. Mohammad Iqbal, also known as "Allama Iqbal". Many regard him as the second best Urdu poet after Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib. Iqbal too is well known for his mystically wise poems, especially in his books called "Baang-e-Dara"; "Baal-e-Jibreel"' and "Zarb-e-Kaleem". Born in Sialkot during the British Raj in India, it is Iqbal who envisioned a "separate homeland for the downtrodden and persecuted Muslims and minorities of racist and caste-based India. Many philosophers including Dr. Barbara Matcoff of Germany and Professor Anne Marie Schimell, the orientalist and an expert on Iqbal and his poetry, credits him as being more of a philosopher than a poet.

"PUSKIN: Full name is Alexander Pushkin of Russia. Pushkin, like Maxim Gorky and Leo Tolstoy, is well known the world over for his mystically inclined poetry and philosophy.

*KABEER: Full name is Bhagat Kabeer. He was an Indian poet whose poetry is full of mystical discourse and extraordinarily expressed in the most easily understood metaphorical nuances.

*KHAYYAM: Full name is Omar Khayyam, a well known Persian astronomer, mathematician and poet, who was made famous in the West by F.Scott Fitzgerald's translations of his quatrains. The book is known as "THE RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM", Fitzgerald has made a good attempt at translating the quatrains but like all original works, the "Rubaiyat" must be read in Persian, to understood fully....as the verses abound with mystical and metaphysical connotations and similes.

*FAIZ AHMED FAIZ: The most well known Urdu poet admired both by poetry lovers in Pakistan, India and wherever Urdu is read, spoken and understood.

*FARAZ: Full name is Ahmed Faraz. He is also an acclaimed Urdu poet of Pakistan, admired the world over, by lovers of Urdu poetry. Some of his poems are a combination of romanticism and mystical hints.

*MEER TAQI MEER: Regarded by even Mirza Ghalib as a greater "ghazal poet" than he himself. Meer Taqi Meer, of Indian origin, lived and died before Mirza Ghalib. He too was mystical and had to pay a heavy price for his beliefs and poetry.

*MAJAZ: Full name is Majaz Lucknawi. He was a contemporary of Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Sahir Ludhianvi, Ahmed Nadeem Qasmi, Ehsan Danish, Ada Jaffri and Sufi Tabassum. Majaz, like Keats of England, was a brilliant writer and a talented Urdu poet. He, like Keats, Shelley and Emily Bronte, died young....after a long period of unemployment and unrequited love. His poetry is romantic and mystical as well as a true description of the times he lived. He died of consumption -- just like Keats, Emily Bronte and several other poets worldwide.

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On Writing

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        Writing.  When one writes; why do they write, who are they writing for, what is their muse?  The experiences of the writer and the reader will effect what they feel comes from the piece.  As time progresses and lives change for the good and for the bad what one feels from and about the piece will also change.

       Nearly seven years ago I wrote a poem, it was an important poem to me because it was the first thing I ever wrote that I liked (1).  When I wrote it I was depressed and had felt the depression would never end, that nothing ever changed and there would only be pain in life.  Now when I go back and read my poem again having had more pain in life, but also joy and happiness I see how the poem still holds true just with a different meaning than it once held; no longer a poem of pain and tears but one of growth and healing even if it takes time.

        When a writer writes they pour their heart, soul, and feelings into whatever it is they are writing.  When someone reads what was written what they feel will effect how they read it and how it effects them, even if it was not the intended meaning of the piece.  As time progresses the piece will also effect the writer differently in such a way that they have grown, changed, and aged.

        A poem from my childhood that my father would recite to me meant little more than my father spending time with me when I was a child (2).  After I lost my father I lost the poem, years later it found me and would mean many different things over the years, now the poem itself is just nicely written words flowing across the page but the memory of the night laying in bed having it recited to me means more to me than the words themselves ever could.

        When a writer writes, do they know how their thoughts will effect lives throughout the years?  Hearing a song starting with a poem being recited (3) and reading a book where two characters discuss the same poem (4) we can even see how the one written piece can effect others in ways beyond the original poem itself (5).

        There is no right or wrong way to write or to feel about what was written, as your life changes you will change and what you see and feel will change along with it.  What is one man's Byron will be another man's Clancy.  So part now from reading this knowing that literature and writing will forever change and that you will change with it.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

1. “Clocks” by: Taos Moonstalker http://www.postpoems.com/cgi-bin/displaypoem.cgi?pid=653295

2. “Annabel Lee” by: Edgar Allan Poe http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/annabel-lee/

3. “Two-Twenty-Nine” by: Brave Saint Saturn/ Reese Roper http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8xL9go0sHA

4. “Comes a Horseman” by: Robert Liparulo http://www.amazon.com/Comes-Horseman-Robert-Liparulo/dp/0785261761   ...

5. “Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night” by: Dylan Thomas http://www.bigeye.com/donotgo.htm

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Exhaustion, Fear, Or Usless Blabber

Sitting here shaking

Cause I forgot to think of you.

Sitting here listening

to the sound of my own breath

wishing that ghastly sound would stop,

because yours almost did...

I feel utterly terrible

cause time slipped right by me,

not once but twice...

Am I mentally sane?..

I wish I had a pack of cigarettes..

That way I could possiblely smoke quiet a few,

Get sick and throw up and cry.

I know now I'm not an angel,

because I forgot to stop

and think of you...

And think if you were worried

or possiblely even hurt...

or worse...

and if worse would have happened..

I'd have never known...

Now; I don't even know if I'm worth it...

because I lose track of time..

I want to cut..feel the burn prickle

a top of my skin and watch

what emotion looks like..

I'm sorry won't cut it..

or perhaps it will..

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Sorry won't cut it..you might as well stay away..since I let time fly by without a thought..All I do is hurt people by not being there for them when they need it most..

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RONNIE



glitter-graphics.com







~Ronnie~

(Dedication Acrostic)







R-onnie, remember her voice,and infectious laughter.There was not

O-ther best friend like she was and never will be for me anymore.She was so

N-atural, sweet and caring,a beautiful human being.She was truly

N-ice, best friend that anyone would like to have around all the time.And

I-n my heart and memories you, Ronnie, will always remain and live.

E-arthly and full of games and fun she was.She knew how to live life to the fullest and she did..

C-ourageous and brave, she was like a breeze of fresh air.She was a true and loyal friend.

O-n any given day she was always willing to help and give a hand to you or me.

G-reat memories and times we enjoyed for many years.How she laughed and joked!Your

E-ntire life she always tried to do and be her best in everything.We surely had fun with family!

R-onnie was my best friend and she was my sis.I loved her very much and miss her terribly.

T-oday, and everyday of my life I will always love and remember her forever.







Dorian Petersen Potter

aka ladydp2000

copyright@2010





March 19,2010









Author notes:





This is my loving tribute poem, to my sis and best friend ever,Ronnie Cogert.I do thank God so much

for letting me know her personally for all those wonderful years.She was a blessing!



I just wish with all my heart that she was still here with her beloved and sweet daughter Jennifer,and with

all of us, who truly loved her and appreciated her very much and always will.We all love you Jenni!



R.I.P. Ronnie, my very sweet,best friend!You were truly more than a blood sister to me!


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HE HAD TO GO


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~He Had To Go~

(Monotetra)





He's gone and buried O, how sad

Facts are hidden,there's more to add

News of his death made world mad

This is so sad, this is so  sad



There's no King of Pop now

Save he lives in our heart we know

And his music forever will flow

He had to go, he had to go



Nothing can stop in heart the tears

He's at rest and has no more cares

My heart finds solace in prayers

Short were his years, short were his years



He's sleeping at peace while we cry

It is hard for us to say good-bye

Hearing his music makes me sigh!

He just can't die,he just can't die.







Dorian Petersen Potter

aka ladydp2000

copyright@2009





September 14,2009









Free George Gershwin Someone To Watch Over Me MP3 | Cell phone ringtones at EZ-Tracks.com


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SIR CHARLES(Charlie)Spencer Chaplin













glitter-graphics.com











~Sir Charles(Charlie)Spencer Chaplin~

(Acrostic)





C-harlie Chaplin as it was better known made

H-is name famous in the early 20's in the silent screen.His

A-cting career took off from then on,right from 1895 to 1976

R-espectively he was not just a comic actor but during his

L-ong lifetime career.Sir Charles(Charlie)Spencer Chaplin was

E-nglish,born in Walworth, London,England.Besides an actor, he was a

S-creenwriter,film director,producer,composer and mime.All during his long



C-areer he was one of the most influencial figures in the silent film era.

H-e was a great gift of comedy all thru a worn- torn war world and after

A-nd he acted and directed, he composed a lot of music for many films.His

P-rivate life later on was filled of so much adulation and controversy so much that

L-ater on, this forced him to resettled back in Europe.The American Film

I-nstitute, ranked Chaplin as the 10th greatest male screen legend of all times.

N-ever before or after the Great Depression,had been a an actor quite like him.





Dorian Petersen Potter

aka ladydp2000

copyright@2010





March 6,2010





(Born: April 16,1889-Died: December 25,1977)





Author Notes:



My poem tribute, to one of the most remarkable

actor of all times,"Charlie Chaplin" also remembered

and known by his unforgettable character role of the

"Little Tramp" in the silent film era.I had really

enjoyed so much watching his funny and delightful

comedy films over the years.



R.I.P. Charlie Chaplin!




























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MICHAEL LANDON

Dead Celebrities - Michael Landon







~Michael Landon~

(Acrostic poem)





M-ichal was a famous American actor,director,producer and writer. He was born

I-n Forest Hill, New York.During his early childhood and years he

C-onquered great challenges in many ways while

H-e grew up in Collingswood, N.J. but he made it throughout all of them,

A-nd developed a great sense of humor,as a shield,against a world he thought often cruel

E-ugene Maurice Orowitz, was his real given name, but much

L-ater on, in his life he would change it to Michael Landon



L-ittle House In the Prarie,brought him more to fame all over,even when

A-nd years before he's starred as little Joe, in the popular t.v.serie "Bonanza."

N-eedless to say he was a great actor, and kind human being.He was very much

D-evoted  to his family and every role that he worked and much created

O-n all his long years as one of the biggest and most celebrated tv stars ever

N-one of us will  forget his engaging smile and heart warming role in L.H.I. the Prarie.





Dorian Petersen Potter

aka ladydp2000

Copyright@2010



March 6,2010





Years active: 1956-1991

(October 31,1991-July 1, 1991)







Author Notes:



As long as I can remember growing up as a child, I watched him

in Bonanza,as the sweet and kind-hearted Little Joe.And then

later on I just loved him more and followed him more in his

role as the most wonderful father, ever in his unforgettable role

of Papa Charles, in the Little House in the Prarie."

I just loved and admired Michael Landon all my life,and respected

him no matter what.He had so many wonderful qualities to dim all of

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