Kategori: Dagens dikt

Dagens dikt: Death av John Donne

En liten sonett om – ja, det märks väl. 
 
==
 
DEATH, be not proud, though some have called thee 
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so: 
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow 
Die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me. 
From Rest and Sleep, which but thy picture be, 
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow; 
And soonest our best men with thee do go– 
Rest of their bones and souls’ delivery! 
Thou’rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, 
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell; 
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well 
And better than thy stroke. Why swell’st thou then? 
   One short sleep past, we wake eternally, 
   And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die!
 
 
== 

Dagens dikt: As soon as Fred gets out of bed av Jack Prelutsky

Barndikter är väl härliga ibland? 
 
==
 
As soon as Fred gets out of bed,
his underwear goes on his head.
His mother laughs, ”Don’t put it there,
a head’s no place for underwear!”
But near his ears, above his brains,
is where Fred’s underwear remains.

At night when Fred goes back to bed,
he deftly plucks it off his head.
His mother switches off the light
and softly croons, ”Good night! Good night!”
And then, for reasons no one knows,
Fred’s underwear goes on his toes.

 
 
==
 
 

Dagens dikt – A grain of sand av Robert William Service

Robert W Service var med i guldrushen i Yukon, lärde jag mig precis. Men han var poet också. Som synes nedan. 
 
==
 
If starry space no limit knows
And sun succeeds to sun,
There is no reason to suppose
Our earth the only one.
‘Mid countless constellations cast
A million worlds may be,
With each a God to bless or blast
And steer to destiny.

Just think! A million gods or so
To guide each vital stream,
With over all to boss the show
A Deity supreme.
Such magnitudes oppress my mind;
From cosmic space it swings;
So ultimately glad to find
Relief in little things.

For look! Within my hollow hand,
While round the earth careens,
I hold a single grain of sand
And wonder what it means.
Ah! If I had the eyes to see,
And brain to understand,
I think Life’s mystery might be
Solved in this grain of sand.

 
 
==

Dagens dikt: Alone and drinking under the moon av Li Po

Intressant rytm här. Ännu en dikt där man inte får fastna och pausa efter varje rad utan låta texten flyta trots radbryt. Det blir bäst så. 
 
Denna dikten är alltså ungefär 1300 år gammal. Kunde ha varit skriven förra året. 
 
==
 
Amongst the flowers I
am alone with my pot of wine
drinking by myself; then lifting
my cup I asked the moon
to drink with me, its reflection
and mine in the wine cup, just
the three of us; then I sigh
for the moon cannot drink,
and my shadow goes emptily along
with me never saying a word;
with no other friends here, I can
but use these two for company;
in the time of happiness, I
too must be happy with all
around me; I sit and sing
and it is as if the moon
accompanies me; then if I
dance, it is my shadow that
dances along with me; while
still not drunk, I am glad
to make the moon and my shadow
into friends, but then when
I have drunk too much, we
all part; yet these are
friends I can always count on
these who have no emotion
whatsoever; I hope that one day
we three will meet again,
deep in the Milky Way.
 
 
== 

Dagens dikt: Introduction to Poetry av Billy Collins

Jag kan känna igen mig i eleverna som Collins talar om här… det var väl tur att jag lyckades förstå mig på poesi till slut 🙂  
 
==
 
I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light 
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

 
 
== 

Dagens dikt: Silver av Walter de la Mare

==
 
Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in silver feathered sleep
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream. 
 
 
== 

Dagens dikt: Echo av Christina Georgina Rossetti

Vilken ordkonstnärinna hon var, den goda Ms. Rossetti! 
 
==
 
Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on a stream;
Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.

O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
Speak low, lean low
As long ago, my love, how long ago.

 
 
== 

Dagens dikt: Pompe av Israel Holmström

Karl XII älskade sina djur – hästen Brandklipparen, hundarna Turk och Snushane – och framför allt Pompe. Det sägs att Pompe egentligen var tre olika hundar. Vissa säger att han var en kungspudel, pappa tror bullterrier – jag tror definitivt inte pudel – hur lätt är det att ha med sig en kungspudel ut i fält? – men snarare typ schäfer eller dobermann eller rottweiler eller något sådant där lite tyngre. 
 
Här är i alla fall hovdiktaren Israel Holmströms vers om Pompe. 
 
==
 
Pompe Kongens trogne dräng
Sof hwar natt i Herrens säng,
Sehn af år och resor trötter
Leed han af wjd Kongens fötter.
 
Mången stålt och fager mö
Önskade som Pompe lefwa
Tusend hieltar eftersträfwa
At få så som Pompe dö.
 
 
==