• Please take a moment to review some of the most important new forum features
  • December 15, 2020: There are some great new forum features to explore here and here.

My favorite poem

Recommended Pharmacies on Pharmacy Reviewer

sweeteeze

Distinguished member
Joined
Oct 16, 2012
Posts
512
I count myself incredibly lucky in that I have someone in my life that is my north, south, east & west and I could not imagine how lost I'd be without him.
@LuckyIrish -- I love that poem! I also love having someone being a compass in my life, too. The past ten years has seen much loss in my life. It has been a grieving decade. This poem just completely says it all for me, thanks for posting it!
 

Humbleweed

Honorable member
Joined
Jul 8, 2013
Posts
207
I love e e cummings. He wrote one about sex which I liked.

Here is the sexual sounding poem:


Hello Poetry
Log in
Sign up
E. E. Cummings (1894 - 1962)
I Like My Body When It Is With Your

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

Also this one:


"THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US; LATE AND SOON"

THE world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; 10
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.\\

I often repeat, "The world is too much with us," as a kind of a mantra to help me cope with life... I find myself often saying it these days. Sweet E

It's a lovely poem. "We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon" resonates so well because I think what we have -compassion,empathy,love is often given away for money,position,power - the "sordid boon". As a society, we have gained materially, but at what cost?

I also use mantras - which helps me become a better person & gives me a lift when I need it.

I hope you are coping wth life & winning - it's so, so difficult sometimes, but I think poems can help so much because the meaning often speaks to you, and only you. The best poems always seem to have been crafted as if the poet, often dead centuries, had lived your life.
 

DulyNoted

Exalted member
Joined
Apr 27, 2011
Posts
4,040
Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.


Edgar Allan Poe
 

Humbleweed

Honorable member
Joined
Jul 8, 2013
Posts
207
This is about wishing to be eternal, to love each other until the last star flickers, and fades.
Our gift is to be human, but that means we must die.

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient sleepless eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors;
No yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever or else swoon to death.

John Keats

I think of this poem often because it reminds me to treasure every moment spent with loved ones,
because one day they will be gone.

I hope you like it.
 

djrick

Exalted member
Joined
Aug 17, 2011
Posts
4,069
All that is gold does not glitter

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

J. R. R. Tolkien from his fantasy novel The Lord of the Rings
 

Django

Honorable member
Joined
Jan 24, 2012
Posts
347
I have two,
the best (easiest) by Dylan Thomas ,
who nailed his subject in my opinion.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


My personal (admittedly not well written) verse came to me from personal experience.

No Name

When I was younger and could clearly see,
Twice I saw what simply could not be.

Much of what I was taught as reality,
And years of personal experience of humanity,

There is something there, somewhere, maybe we are not ready to perceive,
But I have clear memory, it brought me hope, and I, for one, believe.


OK , yall can poke fun at me if you want.
 

Humbleweed

Honorable member
Joined
Jul 8, 2013
Posts
207
A poem by Amy D Liskey:

Sitting on the steps, looking across the lake,
Wondering why, life at times, can seem great.
But in that second, it took me to just think,
My life could change, faster than a blink.

Is this a reason why we should always cherish?
Not knowing when loved ones may suddenly perish.
Living everyday, like it was our very last,
for our days could be very long or go by very fast

So I'll cherish and take nothing for granted,
not say things that shouldn't be chanted.
If this is the last day I have on this earth,
I accept my life, for what it's been worth.

Tomorrow isn't promised to young or old alike,
Today may be the last day I'm able to hold you tight.
Don't wait for tomorrow, do it all today,
If tomorrow never comes, you'll never regret a day.
 

DulyNoted

Exalted member
Joined
Apr 27, 2011
Posts
4,040
The Road Not Taken - 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, as 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 step 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 traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
 

LeeAnn

Distinguished member
Joined
May 16, 2011
Posts
603
MY favorite since I was a child

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.


Edgar Allan Poe
 

grannyof2boys

Eminent member
Joined
Apr 8, 2013
Posts
1,885
@LeeAnn ..............wow---me too.......I loved reading anything by Edgar Allan Poe. that poem is also one of my most favorites since grade school. :)
 

HarryIrene

Renowned member
Joined
Oct 11, 2011
Posts
5,538
The thousandth and tenth day of the human totem pole.
The morning was distemper grey,
Of the thousandth and tenth day of the human totem pole.

The man at the bottom was smiling.
He had just finished his breakfast smiling.
It hadn't rained or manured for over two hours.
The man at the top was starving.
The pole was a horrible looking thing
With all of those eyes and ears
And waving hands for balance.
There was no way to get a copter in close
So everybody was starving together.
The man at the top had long ago given up
But didn't have nerve enough to climb down.
At night the pole would talk to itself and the chatter wasn't too good.
Obviously the pole didn't like itself, it wanted to walk!

It was the summer and it was hot
And balance wouldn't permit skinning to undergarments.
It was an integrated pole, it was taking on an reddish brown cast.
Exercise on the pole was isometric,
Kind of a flex and then balance
Then the highest would roll together,
The ears wiggle, hands balance.
There was a gurgling and googling heard
A tenth of the way up the pole.
Approaching was a small child
With statue of liberty doll.


pilgrim.jpg
 

djrick

Exalted member
Joined
Aug 17, 2011
Posts
4,069
Funeral Blues by WH Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with the juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and, with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin. Let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message: “He is dead!”
Put crepe bows around the white necks of the public doves.
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my north, my south, my east and west,
My working week and Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song.
I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one.
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can come to any good.


- I know it's a sad one but I find it so moving. Love the line "He was my north, my south, my east and west". It gets me every time. I count myself incredibly lucky in that I have someone in my life that is my north, south, east & west and I could not imagine how lost I'd be without him.



Thanks @LuckyIrish I missed this when you first posted---------->love it.
 

djrick

Exalted member
Joined
Aug 17, 2011
Posts
4,069
Bluebird

Bukowski, a favorite



Bluebird

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?
 

dame

Distinguished member
Joined
Dec 19, 2013
Posts
601
My favorite Bukowski. The Genius of the Crowd:

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art
 

mongoose

Distinguished member
Joined
Jan 19, 2012
Posts
769
I can not pinpoint a single Buk poem as my favorite, but the more Bukowski on here the better if you ask me.

But there is this (which is not Bukowski) if I have not posted it before:


so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

-William Carlos Williams

And another by WCW:

This Is Just to Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold


When in school, my roommates and I would take turns competing in bastardizing this poem, thinking we were so smart and original in doing so. Now there are contests on "modifying" this poem so that has probably been going on since the poem was published. We were not as smart as we thought.

Kind regards,

M
 
Last edited:

dame

Distinguished member
Joined
Dec 19, 2013
Posts
601
Because I'm longing for summer and Leonard is the man:

Leonard Cohen, Summer-Haiku

Silence

and a deeper silence

when the crickets

hesitate
 
Top
AdBlock Detected

Ad blocking browser plugins interfere with some features of this forum. For the best site experience please disable your ad blocker.

I've Disabled AdBlock    No Thanks