شعر إنجليزي

She died in the upstairs bedroom By the light of the ev'ning star That shone through the plate glass window From over Leamington Spa

يكاد يكون من المؤكد أنّ القصيدة مبنية على فقدان جون بيتجمان لوالده مما يجعل الأمر أكثر إثارة للمشاعر، يحتوي مقطع القصيدة بالكامل تقريبًا على نمط ينعكس من خلاله الراوي بشكل إيجابي على الوقت الذي يقضيه مع والده ثم ينتهي بملاحظة قاسية وهو يصف حقيقة الموت.   ملخص قصيدة On A Portrait Of A Deaf Man […]

There sat down, once, a thing on Henry's heart só heavy, if he had a hundred years more, & weeping, sleepless, in all them time& .Henry could not make good

I really thought that drinking here would Start a new chain, that the soft storms Would abate, and the horror stories, the ,Noises men make to frighten themselves

The soldiers came .and dropped their bombs The soldiers didn’t take long .to bring the forest down

,Who’s for the game, the biggest that’s played ?The red crashing game of a fight ?Who’ll grip and tackle the job unafraid ?And who thinks he’d rather sit tight

What I love about love is its diagnosis What I hate about love is its prognosis What I hate about love is its me me me What I love about love is its Eat-me/Drink-me

The sun has burst the sky Because I love you .And the river its banks

The sky, lazily disdaining to pursue The setting sun, too indolent to hold ,A lengthened tournament for flashing gold ,Passively darkens for night’s barbecue

,Twinkle, twinkle, little star !How I wonder what you are ,Up above the world so high .Like a diamond in the sky

,Seems lak to me de stars don’t shine so bright ,Seems lak to me de sun done loss his light ,Seems lak to me der’s nothin’ goin’ right .Sence you went away

,Eternities before the first-born day ,Or ere the first sun fledged his wings of flame ,Calm Night, the everlasting and the same .A brooding mother over chaos lay

Six humans trapped by happenstance .In bleak and bitter cold Each one possessed a stick of wood Or so the story’s told

Summer brings out the girls in their green dresses ,Whom the foolish might compare to daffodils ,Not seeing how a dead grandmother in each one governs her limbs ,Darkening the bright corolla, using her lips to speak through Or that a silver torque was woven out of .The roots of wet speargrass

.Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew ,It's the same when love comes to an end or the marriage fails and people say they knew it was a mistake, that everybody

.I am spending my time imagining the worst that could happen I know this is not a good idea, and that being in love, I could be .spending my time going over the best that has been happening

Alaska's rape dismemberment disassembled piece by piece and shipped to the lower

Is there a name for that thing ?you do when you are young ,There must be a word for it in some language probably German, or if not just

Summer dust settled over the garden in bloom and full of bees, their hives full of such marketable honey, you bought a jar. Then, amid the light blue

Two universes mosey down the street .Connected by love and a leash and nothing else Mostly I look at lamplight through the leaves ,While he mooches along with tail up and snout down

.I have had enough .I gasp for breath

You are clear ,O rose, cut in rock .hard as the descent of hail

,About the Shark, phlegmatical one ,Pale sot of the Maldive sea ,The sleek little pilot-fish, azure and slim .How alert in attendance be

As every flower fades and as all youth ,Departs, so life at every stage ,So every virtue, so our grasp of truth .Blooms in its day and may not last forever

,This is the place. Stand still, my steed ,Let me review the scene And summon from the shadowy Past .The forms that once have been

Often I think of the beautiful town ;That is seated by the sea Often in thought go up and down ,The pleasant streets of that dear old town

,The day is ending ;The night is descending ,The marsh is frozen .The river dead 

.Death is nothing at all .I have only slipped away to the next room .I am I and you are you ,Whatever we were to each other .That, we still are

?What does he plant who plants a tree ;He plants a friend of sun and sky ;He plants the flag of breezes free ;The shaft of beauty, towering high

Henry Barlow (Uganda) Today I did my share .In building the nation I drove a Permanent Secretary