Share your favorite poem with me.
La_Amazona
Posts: 4,855 Member
in Chit-Chat
I'm in deep thought today. Share your favorite poem with me. Here is mine.
Of Molluscs by May Sarton
As the tide rises, the closed mollusc
Opens a fraction to the ocean's food,
Bathed in its riches. Do not ask
What force would do, or if force could.
A knife is of no use against a fortress.
You might break it to pieces as gulls do.
No, only the rising tide and its slow progress
Opens the shell. Lovers, I tell you true.
You who have held yourselves closed hard
Against warm sun and wind, shelled up in fears
And hostile to a touch or tender word -
The ocean rises, salt as unshed tears.
Now you are floated on this gentle flood
That cannot force or be forced, welcome food
Salt as your tears, the rich ocean's blood,
Eat, rest, be nourished on the tide of love.
Of Molluscs by May Sarton
As the tide rises, the closed mollusc
Opens a fraction to the ocean's food,
Bathed in its riches. Do not ask
What force would do, or if force could.
A knife is of no use against a fortress.
You might break it to pieces as gulls do.
No, only the rising tide and its slow progress
Opens the shell. Lovers, I tell you true.
You who have held yourselves closed hard
Against warm sun and wind, shelled up in fears
And hostile to a touch or tender word -
The ocean rises, salt as unshed tears.
Now you are floated on this gentle flood
That cannot force or be forced, welcome food
Salt as your tears, the rich ocean's blood,
Eat, rest, be nourished on the tide of love.
0
Replies
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My favorites are the ones I write.0
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The Cremation of Sam McGee. It's fun and it rhymes. I like rhymes.0
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GOD'S BANK AIN'T BUSTED YET
By Mrs. Bessie Tichelaar
The bank had closed; my earthly store had vanished from my hand;
I felt there was no sadder one than I in all the land.
My washerwoman, too, had lost her little mite with mine,
And she was singing as she hung the clothes upon the line.
"How can you be so gay?" I asked. "Your loss, don't you regret?"
"Yes, ma'am, but what's the use to fret? "God's bank ain't busted yet."
I felt my burden lighter grow, her faith I seemed to share;
In prayer I went to God's great throne and laid my burden there.
The sun burst from behind the clowds in golden splendor set;
I thanked God for her simple words: "God's bank ain't busted yet."
And now I draw rich dividends, more than my hands can hold,
Of faith and hope, and love and trust, and peace of mind untold.
I thank the Giver of it all, but still I can't forget
My washerwoman's simple words: "God!s bank ain't busted yet."
Oh, weary one upon life's road, when everythin seems drear,
And losses loom on every side, and skies are not so clear;
Throw back your shoulders, lift your head and cease to chafe and fret.
Your dividends will be declared; "God's bank ain't busted yet"0 -
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Robert Frost0 -
Anne Sexton -- Suicide Note
(One of my many faves, I have the last line tatted on my left arm)
Better,
despite the worms talking to
the mare's hoof in the field;
better,
despite the season of young girls
dropping their blood;
better somehow
to drop myself quickly
into an old room.
Better (someone said)
not to be born
and far better
not to be born twice
at thirteen
where the boardinghouse,
each year a bedroom,
caught fire.
Dear friend,
I will have to sink with hundreds of others
on a dumbwaiter into hell.
I will be a light thing.
I will enter death
like someone's lost optical lens.
Life is half enlarged.
The fish and owls are fierce today.
Life tilts backward and forward.
Even the wasps cannot find my eyes.
Yes,
eyes that were immediate once.
Eyes that have been truly awake,
eyes that told the whole story—
poor dumb animals.
Eyes that were pierced,
little nail heads,
light blue gunshots.
And once with
a mouth like a cup,
clay colored or blood colored,
open like the breakwater
for the lost ocean
and open like the noose
for the first head.
Once upon a time
my hunger was for Jesus.
O my hunger! My hunger!
Before he grew old
he rode calmly into Jerusalem
in search of death.
This time
I certainly
do not ask for understanding
and yet I hope everyone else
will turn their heads when an unrehearsed fish jumps
on the surface of Echo Lake;
when moonlight,
its bass note turned up loud,
hurts some building in Boston,
when the truly beautiful lie together.
I think of this, surely,
and would think of it far longer
if I were not… if I were not
at that old fire.
I could admit
that I am only a coward
crying me me me
and not mention the little gnats, the moths,
forced by circumstance
to suck on the electric bulb.
But surely you know that everyone has a death,
his own death,
waiting for him.
So I will go now
without old age or disease,
wildly but accurately,
knowing my best route,
carried by that toy donkey I rode all these years,
never asking, “Where are we going?”
We were riding (if I'd only known)
to this.
Dear friend,
please do not think
that I visualize guitars playing
or my father arching his bone.
I do not even expect my mother's mouth.
I know that I have died before—
once in November, once in June.
How strange to choose June again,
so concrete with its green breasts and bellies.
Of course guitars will not play!
The snakes will certainly not notice.
New York City will not mind.
At night the bats will beat on the trees,
knowing it all,
seeing what they sensed all day.0 -
The road not taken by Robert Frost.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and sorry I could not travel both and be one traveler long I stood and looked down one as far as I could.
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other just as fair and having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear.
Though as for that the passing there,had worn them really about the same,and both that morning equally lay.
In leaves no steps had trodden black.
Oh! I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way.
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh.
Somewhere ages and ages hence, two roads diverged in a wood and I -I took the one less travelled by and that has made all the difference.0 -
Love all of these!!
I like Robert Frost too.. and had the opportunity to study The Road Not Taken and I loved it.0 -
If by Rudyard Kipling
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-toss,
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!0 -
REST
by: Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
O EARTH, lie heavily upon her eyes;
Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth;
Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth
With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.
She hath no questions, she hath no replies,
Hush'd in and curtain'd with a blessèd dearth
Of all that irk'd her from the hour of birth;
With stillness that is almost Paradise.
Darkness more clear than noonday holdeth her,
Silence more musical than any song;
Even her very heart has ceased to stir:
Until the morning of Eternity
Her rest shall not begin nor end, but be;
And when she wakes she will not think it long.0 -
Tears that fall on the outside
are soon washed away.
Tears that fall on the inside
stay and stay and stay....0 -
The road not taken by Robert Frost.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and sorry I could not travel both and be one traveler long I stood and looked down one as far as I could.
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other just as fair and having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear.
Though as for that the passing there,had worn them really about the same,and both that morning equally lay.
In leaves no steps had trodden black.
Oh! I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way.
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh.
Somewhere ages and ages hence, two roads diverged in a wood and I -I took the one less travelled by and that has made all the difference.
My favorite also.0 -
I have bunches. I love T.S. Eliot's "Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock" and "Preludes." I also like e.e. cummings, Pablo Neruda, and some of the modern poetry slammers (Shane Hawley is really good). Oh and I recently found this poem that I had to memorize in high school:
The Night Will Never Stay by Eleanor Farjean
The night will never stay
The night will still go by
Though with a million stars
You pin it to the sky
Though you bind it with the blowing wind
And buckle it with the moon
The night will slip away
Like sorrow or a tune0 -
Is it too presumptuous to post one of my own?
No? okay, then, I will
The Cat and His Kingdom
Now who can understand the cat
Who thinks himself a worthy prize?
Just sitting with the potted plants
While watching you with wary eyes,
And daring you to make him move
For he knows well his chosen place
And you are but a pawn for him~~
A toy amongst the human race.
For he is rule, master, King
And YOU invader to his throne
So never for a moment think
That this proud animal you own.
For he’s allowed you to exist
And roam his kingdom as you will
So he must watch your every move
While perched upon his windowsill.
8/4/82
Unfortunately, I am now highly allergic to cats, but once had a life with some lovely Siamese :glasses:
PL John0 -
Roses are Red,
Violets are Blue,
I'm schizophrenic,
and so am I0 -
I SAW A MAN PURSUING THE HORIZON
By Stephen Crane
I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
"It is futile," I said,
"You can never -"
"You lie," he cried,
And ran on.0 -
I particularly like the first and last verses:
The Cloud
By Percy Bysshe Shelley
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noon-day dreams.
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the Sun.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under,
And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast;
And all the night 'tis my pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers, Lightning my pilot sits;
In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, It struggles and howls at fits;
Over Earth and Ocean, with gentle motion, This pilot is guiding me,
Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea;
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, Over the lakes and the plains,
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, The Spirit he loves remains;
And I all the while bask in Heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes, And his burning plumes outspread,
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, When the morning star shines dead;
As on the jag of a mountain crag, Which an earthquake rocks and swings,
An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings.
And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit Sea beneath, Its ardours of rest and of love,
And the crimson pall of eve may fall From the depth of Heaven above,
With wings folded I rest, on mine äery nest, As still as a brooding dove.
That orbed maiden with white fire laden Whom mortals call the Moon,
Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor By the midnight breezes strewn;
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear,
May have broken the woof, of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her, and peer;
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees,
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these.
I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl;
The volcanos are dim and the stars reel and swim When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape, Over a torrent sea,
Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof --The mountains its columns be!
The triumphal arch, through which I march With hurricane, fire, and snow,
When the Powers of the Air, are chained to my chair, Is the million-coloured Bow;
The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove While the moist Earth was laughing below.
I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky;
I pass through the pores, of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die
--For after the rain, when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams, with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of Air
,-- I silently laugh at my own cenotaph And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise, and unbuild it again. --0 -
Roses are Red,
Violets are Blue,
I'm schizophrenic,
and so am I
THAT'S one of my favorite poems of all time!
:laugh: :laugh:0 -
Is it too presumptuous to post one of my own?
No? okay, then, I will
The Cat and His Kingdom
Now who can understand the cat
Who thinks himself a worthy prize?
Just sitting with the potted plants
While watching you with wary eyes,
And daring you to make him move
For he knows well his chosen place
And you are but a pawn for him~~
A toy amongst the human race.
For he is rule, master, King
And YOU invader to his throne
So never for a moment think
That this proud animal you own.
For he’s allowed you to exist
And roam his kingdom as you will
So he must watch your every move
While perched upon his windowsill.
8/4/82
Unfortunately, I am now highly allergic to cats, but once had a life with some lovely Siamese :glasses:
PL John
Aww makes me wanna hug my Toni!!0 -
This content has been removed.
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I don't read alot of poetry but I really like
Richard Cory by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
And Shakespeare Sonnet 130
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.0 -
Is it too presumptuous to post one of my own?
No? okay, then, I will
The Cat and His Kingdom
Now who can understand the cat
Who thinks himself a worthy prize?
Just sitting with the potted plants
While watching you with wary eyes,
And daring you to make him move
For he knows well his chosen place
And you are but a pawn for him~~
A toy amongst the human race.
For he is rule, master, King
And YOU invader to his throne
So never for a moment think
That this proud animal you own.
For he’s allowed you to exist
And roam his kingdom as you will
So he must watch your every move
While perched upon his windowsill.
8/4/82
Unfortunately, I am now highly allergic to cats, but once had a life with some lovely Siamese :glasses:
PL John
I really liked this.0 -
I really liked this.
THANKS, Little Miss Bossy
0 -
I love lots of poetry, some deeply moves me. This is just one of my favorites, but it makes me laugh every time.
THE LOSER
Mama said I'd lose my head
If it wasn't fastened on.
Today I guess it wasn't
'Cause while playing with my cousin
It fell off and rolled away
And now it's gone.
And I can't look for it
'Cause my eyes are in it,
And I can't call to it
'Cause my mouth is on it
(Couldn't hear me anyway
'Cause my ears are on it),
Can't even think about it
'Cause my brain is in it.
So I guess I'll sit down
On this rock
And rest for just a minute....
- Shel Silverstein0 -
Old mother hubbard
went to the cupboard
to get old rover a bone
but when she bent over
rover took over
and gave her a bone of his own!!!
Andrew Dice Clay0 -
I love lots of poetry, some deeply moves me. This is just one of my favorites, but it makes me laugh every time.
THE LOSER
Mama said I'd lose my head
If it wasn't fastened on.
Today I guess it wasn't
'Cause while playing with my cousin
It fell off and rolled away
And now it's gone.
And I can't look for it
'Cause my eyes are in it,
And I can't call to it
'Cause my mouth is on it
(Couldn't hear me anyway
'Cause my ears are on it),
Can't even think about it
'Cause my brain is in it.
So I guess I'll sit down
On this rock
And rest for just a minute....
- Shel Silverstein
LOVE, LOVE, LOVE Shel Silverstein! I have a few of his books..............hard to pick a fave, but I think this one rates up there:
Sick
by Shel Silverstein
"I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay,
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash, and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue--
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke--
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is---Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"0 -
Fitting for this time of year. One of my favourites:
Tam O' Shanter by Robert Burns
For its full glory and beauty, in Scots:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lGgZjyZrdzg 0 -
"There was an old man from Nantucket..."1
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My favourite poem has always been
As I was walking down the stair
I met a man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
I wish that man would go away0 -
Ahh, this is a good topic. One that comes to mind is my little girl's and my fav...
Songwriters: Alan Irwin Menken
(Disney's Tangled "Healing Incantation")
Flower, gleam and glow
Let your power shine
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine
Heal what has been hurt
Change the fates' design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine
What once was mine0 -
Walt Whitman (1819–1892). Leaves of Grass. 1900.
289. The Untold Want
THE untold want, by life and land ne’er granted,
Now, Voyager, sail thou forth, to seek and find.0
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