/lit/ - Literature

This is a mirror poem. Mirroring Oscar Wilde's poem The Grave of Keats... it's about Ian Curtis from the band Joy Division...

The Grave Of Keats by Oscar Wilde

Rid of the world's injustice, and his pain,
He rests at last beneath God's veil of blue:
Taken from life when life and love were new
The youngest of the martyrs here is lain,
Fair as Sebastian, and as early slain.
No cypress shades his grave, no funeral yew,
But gentle violets weeping with the dew
Weave on his bones an ever-blossoming chain.
O proudest heart that broke for misery!
O sweetest lips since those of Mitylene!
O poet-painter of our English Land!
Thy name was writ in water - it shall stand:
And tears like mine will keep thy memory green,
As Isabella did her Basil-tree.

ROME.

The Grave of Curtis after The Grave of Keats

Rid of the trade’s inequity, and his disdain,
He rests at last beneath the British dew:
Taken from music before the wave was new,
The youngest of the Warsaw Pakt here is lain,
Fair as Morrison, and as early slain.
No rope to hang by, no stage fright to pass,
But a gentle journalist weeping with the mass.
Weave on his voice an eternal song,
let it ring on.
O pained soul that ceased of epilepsy!
O darkest songs since those of Reed!
O baritone-voice of our generation!
Thy name was writ on bottles – now veneration
And adoration like mine will keep thy song busy
As Deborah did her Natalie

MACCLESFIELD.

I can do this

The same leaves over and over again!
They fall from giving shade above
To make one texture of faded brown
And fit the earth like a leather glove.

Before the leaves can mount again
To fill the trees with another shade,
They must go down past things coming up.
They must go down into the dark decayed.

They must be pierced by flowers and put
Beneath the feet of dancing flowers.
However it is in some other world
I know that this is way in ours.

>>1292898
I hate autumn too..

Entering December,
My eyes will remember
The snowflakes that didn't fall and didn't melt away.

Entering December,
My eyes will remember
How not a single street had a single Christmas light or tinsel string.

Entering December,
My eyes will remember
The drivers that could drive fine in the icy weather,
and never ever ran over anyone I knew.

Just wrote it in 2 minutes. I think its nice.

First, glare at the clock.
Concentrate.
Stare as the second hand orbits the face,
each pass slower than the first.
Tick-
Tock
Tick-
You have to believe that time
is at a standstill.
You have to believe it.
You have to keep your
thoughts busy.
Wonder what everyone else is
thinking.
Contemplate the universe
and all its complexity,
and time will cease to move.
Walk amongst the frozen bodies.
Wave your hand before stolid faces.
Rearrange their seats.
Sketch.


Sketch that guy with ape arms,
fighting an octopus,
blowing a plume of ink.
Doodle the smoke from a
caterpillars’ hookah.
Visualize everyone in their underwear-
no, don’t do that,
for god’s sake don’t do that.
Write your name in big bubble
letters on the chalkboard.
Run down the halls throwing
papers into the air.
Shout as loud as your lungs
have capacity for.
Wake up,
wake up!
Your lecture, your shift, your hour has ended.
Go back to what you should be doing.
Controlling time forever is feeble effort,
it resumes at its own will.
Tock
Tick-
Tock


inb4 ke$ha

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.

>>1292946
>mfw this is Grey's Elegy in a Country Courtyard
I literally read this a month ago

>>1292959

wut? no i wrote lol