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Wanted: poems on the theme of "carpe diem"

(24 Posts)
CanadianJohn Sun 25-May-14 15:15:37

The title says it all. Articles would be okay, but poetry is better. Time to pluck the vibrating strings of life, as someone said.

punygod Sun 25-May-14 15:17:50

How To Leave The World That Worships Should.

MILLYmo0se Sun 25-May-14 15:18:46

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost ? Not exactly 'sieze the day' but along the lines of not having to follow the crowd, to plough your own furrow so to speak

FiveExclamations Sun 25-May-14 15:20:20

I'm not sure this is exactly what you want but they're the first that spring to mind.

O me O life - Walt Whitman

The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost

SanityClause Sun 25-May-14 15:21:14

To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell.

SanityClause Sun 25-May-14 15:24:06

Do Not Go Gentle by Dylan Thomas

Horace, Odes I, 11? grin

Leucono�, don�t ask, we never know, what fate the gods grant us,
whether your fate or mine, don�t waste your time on Babylonian,
futile, calculations. How much better to suffer what happens,
whether Jupiter gives us more winters or this is the last one,
one debilitating the Tyrrhenian Sea on opposing cliffs.
Be wise, and mix the wine, since time is short: limit that far-reaching hope.
The envious moment is flying now, now, while we�re speaking:
Seize the day, place in the hours that come as little faith as you can.

Herrick, To the Virgins, to make much of Time.

(unless you're aiming at teens, in case the message is, perhaps, inappropriate...

TheRedQueen Sun 25-May-14 15:29:49

The poem that starts 'Gather ye rosebuds while ye may'. Sorry, can't remember the title. Something about virgins.

JeanSeberg Sun 25-May-14 15:29:55

Carpe Diem by Robert Frost

Age saw two quiet children
Go loving by at twilight,
He knew not whether homeward,
Or outward from the village,
Or (chimes were ringing) churchward,
He waited, (they were strangers)
Till they were out of hearing
To bid them both be happy.
"Be happy, happy, happy,
And seize the day of pleasure."
The age-long theme is Age's.
'Twas Age imposed on poems
Their gather-roses burden
To warn against the danger
That overtaken lovers
From being overflooded
With happiness should have it.
And yet not know they have it.
But bid life seize the present?
It lives less in the present
Than in the future always,
And less in both together
Than in the past. The present
Is too much for the senses,
Too crowding, too confusing-
Too present to imagine.

Should be "Leuconoe", obv. And "don't" and "we're".

TheRedQueen Sun 25-May-14 15:31:27

Cross post with Awesome Wellies! That's the one I mean!

FiveExclamations Sun 25-May-14 15:31:58

How about the Kohima Epitaph - John Maxwell Evans

"When You Go Home, Tell Them Of Us And Say,
For Their Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today"

Essentially don't bloody waste the life we gave ours for!

Great minds, RedQueen.grin

Morgause Sun 25-May-14 15:32:12

CRAZY BASTARD’ by Roger McGough

I have always enjoyed the company of extroverts
Wild-eyed men who would go too far
Up to the edge and beyond. Mad, bad women
Overcautious me. Sensible shoes and scarf
Tucked in. Fresh fruit and plenty of sleep
If the sign said ‘keep off’, then off is where I’d keep
Midsummer’s eve in the sixties
On a moonlit beach in Devon we sit around a fire
Drinking the wine and cider. Someone strumming a guitar
Suddenly a girl strips off and runs into the sea.
Everybody follows suit, a whoop of flickering nakedness
Hot gold into cold silver. Far out.
Not wanting to be last in I unbutton my jeans
Then pause. Someone had better stay behind
And keep an eye on the clothes. Common sense.
I throw another piece of driftwood on the fire
Above the crackle listen to the screams and the laughter
Take a long untroubled swig of scrumpy. Crazy bastard.

Badvoc Sun 25-May-14 15:32:44

Come live with me and be my love by kit Marlowe.

But WHAT FOR, op?

Badvoc Sun 25-May-14 15:33:14

Oh, and Jenny kissed me - can't remember who by

sarinka Sun 25-May-14 16:32:32

Message withdrawn at poster's request.

LetsFaceTheMusicAndDance Sun 25-May-14 17:00:17

Not Carpe Diem as such - but a reminder to live in the moment.

Rising Five

"I'm rising five" he said
"Not four" and the little coils of hair
Un-clicked themselves upon his head.
His spectacles, brimful of eyes to stare
At me and the meadow, reflected cones of light
Above his toffee-buckled cheeks. He'd been alive
Fifty-six months or perhaps a week more;

Not four
But rising five.

Around him in the field, the cells of spring
Bubbled and doubled; buds unbuttoned; shoot
And stem shook out the creases from their frills,
And every tree was swilled with green.
It was the season after blossoming,
Before the forming of the fruit:

Not May
But rising June.

And in the sky
The dust dissected the tangential light:

Not day
But rising night;

Not now
But rising soon.

The new buds push the old leaves from the bough.

We drop our youth behind us like a boy
Throwing away his toffee-wrappers.
We never see the flower,
But only the fruit in the flower; never the fruit,
But only the rot in the fruit.
We look for the marriage bed
In the baby's cradle;
we look for the grave in the bed;

Not living
But rising dead.

Norman Nicholson

Bassetfeet Sun 25-May-14 17:38:07

Ulysses by Tennyson .

CanadianJohn Mon 26-May-14 16:19:04

Thanks for the poems. Most of them, I already know, but there are a few new ones.

AwesomeWellies asked "why?" Briefly, I'm older than most of you (in fact, I'm older than most people,) and after a heart attack and a fractured pelvis I probably don't have too long to live... a couple of years at most. With no energy, and most movement causing pain, it is very tempting to spend my remaining time watching old movies on TV, and dwelling on lost years, and opportunities missed.

meditrina Mon 26-May-14 16:32:32

In those circumstances, even though it's not quite what you asked for, how about:

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

“I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I'm going to be happy in it.” - Groucho Marx

“We spend precious hours fearing the inevitable. It would be wise to use that time adoring our families, cherishing our friends and living our lives.” - Maya Angelou

Try this video of Steven Sutton speaking to a group of business people, just 4 months before he died. Very inspiring, he talks about using your time to make a difference.

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