read this poem and send to friends u'll never forget xx

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Amy
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#1
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#1
DADDY

Her hair was up in a ponytail
her favorite dress tied with a bow.
Today was Daddy's Day at school,
And she couldn't wait to go.

But her mommy tried to tell her,
That she probably should stay home.
Why the kids might not understand,
If she went to school alone.


But she was not afraid;
She knew just what to say.
What to tell her classmates
Of why he wasn't there today.


But still her mother worried,
For her to face this day alone.
And that was why once again,
She tried to keep her daughter home.


But the little girl went to school,
Eager to tell them all.
About a dad she never see
A dad who never calls.


There were daddies along the wall in back,
For everyone to meet.
Children squirming impatiently,
Anxious in their seats.


One by one the teacher called,
A student from the class.
To introduce their daddy,
As seconds slowly passed.


At last the teacher called her name,
Every child turned to stare.
Each of them was searching,
For a man who wasn't there.


Where's her daddy at?"
She heard a boy call out.
She probably doesn't have one,"
Another student dared to shout.


And from somewhere near the back,
She heard a daddy say,
"Looks like another deadbeat dad,
Too busy to waste his day."


The words did not offend her,
As she smiled up at her Mom.
And looked back at her teacher,
Who told her to go on.


And with hands behind her back,
Slowly she began to speak.
And out from the mouth of a child,
Came words incredibly unique.


My Daddy couldn't be here,
Because he lives so far away.
But I know he wishes he could be,
Since this is such a special day.


And though you cannot meet him,
I wanted you to know.
All about my daddy,
And how much he loves me so.


He loved to tell me stories
He taught me to ride my bike.
He surprised me with pink roses,
And taught me to fly a kite.


We used to share fudge sundaes,
And ice cream in a cone.
And though you cannot see him,
I'm not standing here alone.


Cause my daddy's always with me,
Even though we are apart
I know because he told me,
He'll forever be in my heart"


With that, her little hand reached up,
And lay across her chest.
Feeling her own heartbeat,
Beneath her favorite dress.


And from somewhere in the crowd of dads,
Her mother stood in tears.
Proudly watching her daughter,
Who was wise beyond her years.


For she stood up for the love
Of a man not in her life.
Doing what was best for her,
Doing what was right.


And when she dropped her hand back down,
Staring straight into the crowd.
She finished with a voice so soft,
But its message clear and loud.


I love my daddy very much,
He's my shining star.
And if he could, he'd be here,
But heaven's just too far.


You see he was a fireman
And died just this past 2 year
When airplanes hit the towers
And taught Americans to fear.

But sometimes when I close my eyes,
It's like he never went away."
And then she closed her eyes,
And saw him there that day.


And to her mother's amazement,
She witnessed with surprise.
A room full of daddies and children,
All starting to close their eyes.


Who knows what they saw before them,
Who knows what they felt inside.
Perhaps for merely a second,
They saw him at her side.


I know you're with me Daddy,"
To the silence she called out.
And what happened next made believers,
Of those once filled with doubt.


Not one in that room could explain it,
For each of their eyes had been closed.
But there on the desk beside her,
Was a fragrant long-stemmed pink rose.


And a child was blessed, if only for a moment,
By the love of her shining bright star.
And given the gift of believing,
That heaven is never too far



xxx
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Spc_K
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Thank god you don't have me on a mailing list.
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Mr White
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What the hell is this? That's the worst poem I've ever seen.
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Amy
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(Original post by Spc_K)
Thank god you don't have me on a mailing list.
wot?
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Amy
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(Original post by Mr White)
What the hell is this? That's the worst poem I've ever seen.
why what wrong with it?
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jammyd
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(Original post by Mr White)
What the hell is this? That's the worst poem I've ever seen.
Do you have a favourite poem Mr White?
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Matt the cat
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(Original post by jammyd)
Do you have a favourite poem Mr White?
I did war peotry at school, my favourite was, ofcourse, 'dulce decorum est'
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jammyd
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(Original post by Matt the cat)
I did war peotry at school, my favourite was, ofcourse, 'dulce decorum est'
I liked anything by Sassoon to be honest, like 'Does it matter?' or 'The Death Bed'. Dulce is an excellent poem though.
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Amy
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(Original post by Matt the cat)
I did war peotry at school, my favourite was, ofcourse, 'dulce decorum est'
i like spike milligan poems, hes so funny!!
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Mr White
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(Original post by jammyd)
Do you have a favourite poem Mr White?
Beatus ille qui procul negotiis,
ut prisca gens mortalium,
paterna rura bubus exercet suis
solutus omni faenore
neque excitatur classico miles truci,
neque horret iratum mare
forumque vitat et superba civium
potentiorum limina.
libet iacere modo sub antiqua ilice,
modo in tenaci gramine:
labuntur altis interim ripis aquae,
queruntur in silvis aves
fontesque lymphis obstrepunt manantibus,
somnos quod invitet levis.
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Matt the cat
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(Original post by jammyd)
I liked anything by Sassoon to be honest, like 'Does it matter?' or 'The Death Bed'. Dulce is an excellent poem though.
Dulce Decorum est was a joint effort by both Sassoon and Wilfred Owen, although i think that it is Owen who takes most of the respect for it
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jammyd
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(Original post by Mr White)
Beatus ille qui procul negotiis,
ut prisca gens mortalium,
paterna rura bubus exercet suis
solutus omni faenore
neque excitatur classico miles truci,
neque horret iratum mare
forumque vitat et superba civium
potentiorum limina.
libet iacere modo sub antiqua ilice,
modo in tenaci gramine:
labuntur altis interim ripis aquae,
queruntur in silvis aves
fontesque lymphis obstrepunt manantibus,
somnos quod invitet levis.
Hmmm, I was thinking of something with more grounding in popular culture. A favourite modern poem?

It would be fine of course if I was familiar with classical languages.
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Matt the cat
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(Original post by Mr White)
Beatus ille qui procul negotiis,
ut prisca gens mortalium,
paterna rura bubus exercet suis
solutus omni faenore
neque excitatur classico miles truci,
neque horret iratum mare
forumque vitat et superba civium
potentiorum limina.
libet iacere modo sub antiqua ilice,
modo in tenaci gramine:
labuntur altis interim ripis aquae,
queruntur in silvis aves
fontesque lymphis obstrepunt manantibus,
somnos quod invitet levis.
I do not understand
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Kurdt Morello
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My favourite poem is the one i heard this old tramp speak in Camden ... it was crap but it was the thought that counted - this poem is American propaganda which propelled the U.S.A. into a god forsaken war against Iraq - i dont think it was written by anyone other than someone working for the C.I.A and intelligence agencies. It's like an old wives' tale you would expect to hear in 50 years time - sorry it just didnt touch me and as i have heard it before i know it isnt even genuine
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Mr White
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#15
(Original post by Matt the cat)
I do not understand
Unless you speak Latin, then I doubt you would. Here, I'll translate:

Blessed is he, from business far-removed,
Who tends, like ancient men of old,
His oxen on the farm of his fathers,
Free from the lending of money,
Neither roused by the grim trumpet of war,
Nor fearful of the raging sea,
Avoiding the forum and the pompous
thresholds of high and mighty men.
Delight is in lying beneath the aged ilex,
At other times in grass that’s firm,
While waters lap the river’s lofty banks,
And the birds in the woods complain,
While the fount that flows with frenzied water
Lures the listener to soothing sleep.

Horace - excerpt from Epode 2.
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eminem_crazy
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#16
(Original post by Mr White)
Beatus ille qui procul negotiis,
ut prisca gens mortalium,
paterna rura bubus exercet suis
solutus omni faenore
neque excitatur classico miles truci,
neque horret iratum mare
forumque vitat et superba civium
potentiorum limina.
libet iacere modo sub antiqua ilice,
modo in tenaci gramine:
labuntur altis interim ripis aquae,
queruntur in silvis aves
fontesque lymphis obstrepunt manantibus,
somnos quod invitet levis.
and the translation of that is ? ............................
oh by the way i thought the first poem 'daddy' woz good v sweet

oh never mind i found it now
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The_Barman
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#17
Wow thats a really long poem :-)
Was there something personal behind that glitter or was it just a poem??xx
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Kurdt Morello
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#18
(Original post by Mr White)
Beatus ille qui procul negotiis,
ut prisca gens mortalium,
paterna rura bubus exercet suis
solutus omni faenore
neque excitatur classico miles truci,
neque horret iratum mare
forumque vitat et superba civium
potentiorum limina.
libet iacere modo sub antiqua ilice,
modo in tenaci gramine:
labuntur altis interim ripis aquae,
queruntur in silvis aves
fontesque lymphis obstrepunt manantibus,
somnos quod invitet levis.
Whitey the Aenaed or works by Catullus do not count as poems - u need to be more genuine
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PQ
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Wandering along the road
by the lake, I saw a load
of golden daffodils
Ten thousand, give or take.

Now and then
I think of them again.

Roger McGough
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Mr White
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#20
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(Original post by Kurdt Morello)
Whitey the Aenaed or works by Catullus do not count as poems - u need to be more genuine
Poetic works - I always thought of them as 'poems' (although not in the general sense - then again, what is the general sense? looking at some of the more obscure modern poetry).
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