That Desiderata Poem

Kilgore

Perks me up when I'm feeling a bit melancholic. 

Dominic

Sorry ,the Hollywood blockbuster voice and overdrama winds me up more than a bad day at the office .Awful.
Prefer Ella Wheeler-Wilcox anyway ........her Poem Solitude is far more realistic.

fob

The Peace Of Wild Things - Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

JerkMoans

The Ostrich  by Ogden Nash

The ostrich roams the great Sahara.  Its mouth is wide, its neck is narra.  It has such long and lofty legs,  I'm glad it sits to lay its eggs.

Kilgore

Dominic said:

Sorry ,the Hollywood blockbuster voice and overdrama winds me up more than a bad day at the office .Awful.
Prefer Ella Wheeler-Wilcox anyway ........her Poem Solitude is far more realistic.

I agree it's well over the top. But that's part of why I like it. Spock does a version of it as well. 

Kittyfrisk

I must go down to the sea again,
to the lonely sea and sky.
I left my vest and socks there...
I wonder if they're dry?

Spike Milligan.

tony99

Full Fathom Five by Sylvia Plath

Old man, you surface seldom.
Then you come in with the tide's coming
When seas wash cold, foam-

Capped: white hair, white beard, far-flung,
A dragnet, rising, falling, as waves
Crest and trough. Miles long

Extend the radial sheaves
Of your spread hair, in which wrinkling skeins
Knotted, caught, survives

The old myth of orgins
Unimaginable. You float near
As kneeled ice-mountains

Of the north, to be steered clear
Of, not fathomed. All obscurity
Starts with a danger:

Your dangers are many. I
Cannot look much but your form suffers
Some strange injury

And seems to die: so vapors
Ravel to clearness on the dawn sea.
The muddy rumors

Of your burial move me
To half-believe: your reappearance
Proves rumors shallow,

For the archaic trenched lines
Of your grained face shed time in runnels:
Ages beat like rains

On the unbeaten channels
Of the ocean. Such sage humor and
Durance are whirlpools

To make away with the ground-
Work of the earth and the sky's ridgepole.
Waist down, you may wind

One labyrinthine tangle
To root deep among knuckles, shinbones,
Skulls. Inscrutable,

Below shoulders not once
Seen by any man who kept his head,
You defy questions;

You defy godhood.
I walk dry on your kingdom's border
Exiled to no good.

Your shelled bed I remember.
Father, this thick air is murderous.
I would breathe water.

(and of course the original)

Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell
Hark! Now I hear them – Ding-dong, bell.

— William Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act I, Sc. II

Nomad

Kittyfrisk said:

I must go down to the sea again,
to the lonely sea and sky.
I left my vest and socks there...
I wonder if they're dry?

Spike Milligan.

And...

I eat my peas with honey,
I've done it all my life.
It makes the peas taste funny,
but it keeps them on the knife.

Emp_Fab

I’m afraid of the dark

especially when I’m in a park

I don’t want to see a ghost

it’s a sight that I fear the most

I’d rather have a piece of toast