If

[kendoddsdadsdogsdead]

IF you can keep your head when all about you 
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings 
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-throw,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son

[S36 OWL]

Brilliant 

[kendoddsdadsdogsdead]

Says it all really. 

[Davetherave]

ah ah Kipling .....

 

onward and upward Owls.

 

[RenishawOwl]

1 minute ago, Davetherave said:

ah ah Kipling .....

 

onward and upward Owls.

 

What's cakes got to do with it? 

[Havin-a-hoot]

I've got this on my wall, powerful stuff

[sonofbert2]

Not bad that but he's no lmc is he?

[Lombardo]

16 minutes ago, Davetherave said:

ah ah Kipling .....

 

onward and upward Owls.

 

Do you like Kipling??

[spike1867]

Not in the same league in terms of poetry but still I like this one (and before Matt Damon ever made a movie about the South African rugby team!).  Ironically first published the year the Football League was founded.

 

Out of the night which covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

 

-William Ernest Henley 1888

 

 

[spike1867]

Or maybe this is more appropriate?

 

It is not the critic who counts;
not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles,
or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,
whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood;
who strives valiantly; who errs,
who comes short again and again,
because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;
but who does actually strive to do the deeds;
who knows great enthusiasms,
the great devotions;
who spends himself in a worthy cause;
who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement,
and who at the worst,
if he fails,
at least fails while daring greatly,
so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

 

-Theodore Roosevelt 1910

[The only way is S6]

I was expecting a photo of Kojak 

 

[royalowlisback]

Thought it was gonna be about bluetones.

[MAL]

46 minutes ago, Davetherave said:

ah ah Kipling .....

 

onward and upward Owls.

 

 

Kipling, bah.

 

I was expecting Telly Savalas 

[ChapSmurf]

50 minutes ago, kendoddsdadsdogsdead said:

IF you can keep your head when all about you 
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings 
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-throw, t o s s
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son

 

Without a doubt, my favourite song by Bread - whoever the flip they are. I had to search for a song called "If" because I couldn't think of one and they came up.

 

I don't know much about poetry - who really does - but Kipling's If is without a doubt my favourite. Followed closely by Daffodils by Wordsworth.

 

Edit: I don't believe this. OT has actually sanistised this poem. For the love of God.......

Edited May 17, 2017 by ChapSmurf

[Havin-a-hoot]

I feel that Tennyson's Ulysses belongs here (Bolded bits for the particularly meaningful bits for our situation)      

 There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail: 

There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners, 

Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me— 

That ever with a frolic welcome took 

The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed 

Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old; 

Old age hath yet his honour and his toil; 

Death closes all: but something ere the end, 

Some work of noble note, may yet be done, 

Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. 

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks: 

The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep 

Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 

'T is not too late to seek a newer world. 

Push off, and sitting well in order smite 

The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds 

To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 

Of all the western stars, until I die. 

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: 

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, 

And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. 

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' 

We are not now that strength which in old days 

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; 

One equal temper of heroic hearts, 

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will 

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

 

- Alfred Lord Tennyson 

[JoeMaloney92]

Thought this was the poem from the Plus Net advert then...

[Inspector Lestrade]

Prefer his cakes to be honest, exceedingly good.

[the mighty wednesday]

Have to laugh at the swear filter changing "pitch and t o s s" to pitch and throw. Kipling and Daffodils..are we going soft...cupcakes and pansies!

If is a cracking poem but I'm waiting for asteener to come up with something better...no pressure Andy !!

[helmut_rooster]

1 hour ago, kendoddsdadsdogsdead said:

IF you can keep your head when all about you 
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings 
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-throw,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son

 

 

ENGLAND WILL BE PLAYING 4,4,FÚCKÍNG 2

[MAL]

 

 

There comes a point in life when

No compromise seems too large

If it dulls the ache of being alone. 

There comes a moment in growth when

Memories are deceptive and

Lure us back to seasons of embittering pain. 

There comes a fork in the road that

Forces us to choose whether we will have the

Freedom of courage or crippling fear. 

There comes a stirring in our soul that
Whispers of journeys worth daring because 
We have faith that love

 

Rewards the brave.