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Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 9:54:10 AM   
Jacobthm


Posts: 237
Joined: 7/9/2007
Status: offline 		At the risk of sounding like an "artiste" post your favoritte poem with a brief reason why you like it.
Profile   Post #: 1
RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 10:13:06 AM   
SugarMyChurro


Posts: 1912
Joined: 4/26/2007
Status: offline 		http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ozymandias

A. Shelley wrote it. And I love Shelley's work.

B. It's an important piece that reminds us that not only do all things change, but that most civilizations (political powers) tend to actually vanish. Sure, we are all smug about it now. Just wait...

(in reply to Jacobthm)
Profile   Post #: 2
RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 10:15:23 AM   
Level


Posts: 25145
Joined: 3/3/2006
Status: offline 		William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

             THE SECOND COMING

  Turning and turning in the widening gyre
  The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
  Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
  Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
  The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
  The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
  The best lack all convictions, while the worst
  Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
  Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
  The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
  When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
  Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
  A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
  A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
  Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
  Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
  The darkness drops again but now I know
  That twenty centuries of stony sleep
  Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
  And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
  Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Why do I like it? It's just a beautiful use of words and imagery.

_____________________________

Fake the heat and scratch the itch
Skinned up knees and salty lips
Let go it's harder holding on
One more trip and I'll be gone

~~ Stone Temple Pilots

(in reply to Jacobthm)
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RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 10:31:40 AM   
windchymes


Posts: 9410
Joined: 4/18/2005
Status: offline 		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, 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. 

To say anything would just spoil the moment, at least for me.



      

< Message edited by windchymes -- 7/21/2007 10:44:02 AM >

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RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 10:35:46 AM   
KatyLied


Posts: 13029
Joined: 2/24/2005
From: Pennsylvania
Status: offline 		Poem for pissed off people entry:

Dorothy Parker

Frustration


If I had a shiny gun,
I could have a world of fun
Speeding bullets through the brains
Of the folk who give me pains;

Or had I some poison gas,
I could make the moments pass
Bumping off a number of
People whom I do not love.

But I have no lethal weapon-
Thus does Fate our pleasure step on!
So they still are quick and well
Who should be, by rights, in hell.

< Message edited by KatyLied -- 7/21/2007 10:36:04 AM >

_____________________________

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RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 11:11:50 AM   
raeanha


Posts: 75
Joined: 8/2/2005
Status: offline
The Jabberwocky
By Lewis Carroll
 
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.


"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"


He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.


And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!


One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.


"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.


'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
 
I've loved this poem since I first memorized it and recited it in 5th grade. My first theatrical triumph! There are lots of poems that I love, but this grand adventure will always be my favorite.

(in reply to KatyLied)
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RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 11:39:07 AM   
BlackKnight


Posts: 767
Joined: 1/1/2004
Status: offline 		raeanha, you just stole a peace of my heart, That is one of my all time favorites, ahhh 'Jabberwocky', a woman that can recite that from memory makes me want to throw her down an make love to her.

_____________________________

'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.'
Life of Reason, Reason in Common Sense, Scribner's, 1905, page 284"
George Santayana

Just because I'm paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get me!

(in reply to raeanha)
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RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 12:09:47 PM   
Jacobthm


Posts: 237
Joined: 7/9/2007
Status: offline 		There's two for me.

Mein Kampf by David Lerner
http://forums.neverside.com/thread/91508/

No it's not a bloody neo nazi poem. Read first then judge.

It's what I think all art should be about.

And of course "The Conqueror Worm" by Poe.
http://blogs.setonhill.edu/DennisJerz/EL266/010387.php

Simply because of the emotions it brings to surface. It borders on Lovecraftian sensibilities.


< Message edited by Jacobthm -- 7/21/2007 12:11:55 PM >

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RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 12:16:21 PM   
Level


Posts: 25145
Joined: 3/3/2006
Status: offline 		The Lerner piece is excellent.

_____________________________

Fake the heat and scratch the itch
Skinned up knees and salty lips
Let go it's harder holding on
One more trip and I'll be gone

~~ Stone Temple Pilots

(in reply to Jacobthm)
Profile   Post #: 9
RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 12:16:25 PM   
SeeksOnlyOne


Posts: 2012
Joined: 5/14/2007
Status: offline 		this is one of my favs....

I am part of the load
Not rightly balanced
I drop off in the grass,
like the old Cave-sleepers, to browse
wherever I fall.
For hundreds of thousands of years I have been dust-grains
floating and flying in the will of the air,
often forgetting ever being
in that state, but in sleep
I migrate back. I spring loose
from the four-branched, time -and-space cross,
this waiting room.
I walk into a huge pasture
I nurse the milk of millennia
Everyone does this in different ways.
Knowing that conscious decisions
and personal memory
are much too small a place to live,
every human being streams at night
into the loving nowhere, or during the day,
in some absorbing work.
(Mathnawi, VI 216-227)
Rumi, 'We Are Three'


_____________________________

it aint no good til it hurts just a little bit....jimmy somerville

in those moments of solitude, does everyone sometimes think they are insane? or is it just me?

(in reply to Jacobthm)
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RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 2:01:30 PM   
philosophy


Posts: 5284
Joined: 2/15/2004
Status: offline 		two pieces, the first by Swift because it makes me laugh

"We are God's chosen few
All others will be damned
There is no room in heaven for you
We can't have heaven crammed"

The second is one of Donne's sonnets, just google this first line for the full text

"Death be not proud, tho some have called thee mighty and dreadful........."

(in reply to SeeksOnlyOne)
Profile   Post #: 11
RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 2:17:37 PM   
spiral23


Posts: 1053
Joined: 1/10/2007
Status: offline 		The Law of the Yukon
This is the law of the Yukon, and ever she makes it plain:
"Send not your foolish and feeble; send me your strong and your sane--
Strong for the red rage of battle; sane, for I harry them sore;
Send me men girt for the combat, men who are grit to the core;
Swift as the panther in triumph, fierce as the bear in defeat,
Sired of a bulldog parent, steeled in the furnace heat.
Send me the best of your breeding, lend me your chosen ones;
Them will I take to my bosom, them will I call my sons;
Them will I gild with my treasure, them will I glut with my meat;
But the others--the misfits, the failures--I trample under my feet.
Dissolute, damned and despairful, crippled and palsied and slain,
Ye would send me the spawn of your gutters--Go! take back your spawn again.

"Wild and wide are my borders, stern as death is my sway;
From my ruthless throne I have ruled alone for a million years and a day;
Hugging my mighty treasure, waiting for man to come,
Till he swept like a turbid torrent, after him swept--the scum.
The pallid pimp of the dead-line, the enervate of the pen,
One by one I weeded them out, for all that I sought was--Men.
One by one I dismayed them, frighting them sore with my glooms;
One by one I betrayed them unto my manifold dooms.
Drowned them like rats in my rivers, starved them like curs on my plains,
Rotted the flesh that was left, poisoned the blood in their veins;
Burst with my winter upon them, searing forever their sight,
Lashed them with fungus-white faces, whimpering wild in the night;

"Staggering blind through the storm-whirl, stumbling mad through the snow,
Frozen stiff in the ice-pack, brittle and bent like a bow;
Featureless, formless, forsaken, scented by wolves in their flight,
Left for the wind to make music through ribs that are glittering white;
Gnawing the black crust of failure, searching the pit of despair,
Going outside with an escort, raving with lips all afoam,
Writing a cheque for a million, driveling feebly of home;
Lost like a louse in the burning...or else in the tented town
Seeking a drunkard's solace, sinking and sinking down;
Steeped in the slime at the bottom, dead to a decent world,
Lost 'mid the human flotsam, far on the frontier hurled;
In the camp at the bend of the river, with its dozen saloons aglare,
Its gambling dens ariot, its gramophones all ablare;
Crimped with the crimes of a city, sin-ridden and bridled with lies,
In the hush of my mountained vastness, in the flush of my midnight skies.
Plague-spots, yet tools of my purpose, so natheless I suffer them thrive,
Crushing my Weak in their cluthces, that only my Strong may survive.

"But the others, the men of my mettle, them who would 'stablish my fame
Unto its ultimate issue, winning me honor, not shame;
Searching my uttermost valleys, fighting each step as they go,
Shooting the wrath of my rapids, scaling my ramparts of snow;
Ripping the guts of my mountains, looting the beds of my creeks,
Them will I take to my bosom, and speak as a mother speaks.
I am the land that listens, I am the land that broods;
Steeped in eternal beauty, crystalline waters and woods.
Long have I waited lonely, shunned as a thing accurst,
Monstrous, moody, pathetic, the last of the land and first;
Visioning camp-fires at twilight, sad with longing forlorn,
Feeling my womb o'er-pregnant with the seed of cities unborn.
Wild and wide are my borders, stern as death is my sway,
And I wait for the men who will win me--and I will not be won in a day;
And I will not be won by weaklings, subtle, suave and mild,
But by men with the hearts of vikings, and simple faith of a child;
Desperate, strong and resistless, unthrottled by fear or defeat,
Them will I gild with my treasure, them will I glut with my meat.

"Lofty I stand from each sister land, patient and wearily wise,
With the weight of a world of sadness in my quiet, passionless eyes;
Dreaming alone of a people, dreaming alone of a day,
When men shall not rape my riches, and curse me and go away;
Making a bawd of my bounty, fouling the hand that gave--
Till I rise in my wrath and I sweep on their path and I stamp them into a grave.
Dreaming of men who will bless me, of women esteeming me good,
Of children born in my borders of radiant motherhood,
Of cities leaping to stature, of fame like a flag unfurled,
As I pour the tide of my riches in the eager lap of the world."

This is the Law of the Yukon, that only the Strong shall thrive;
That surely the Weak shall perish, and only the Fit survive.
Dissolute, damned and despairful, crippled and palsied and slain,
This is the Will of the Yukon,--Lo, how she makes it plain!

ROBERT SERVICE


(in reply to philosophy)
Profile   Post #: 12
RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 5:59:09 PM   
Arpig


Posts: 9930
Joined: 1/3/2006
From: Increasingly further from reality
Status: offline 		My favourite poet is Maddy van D, a Newfoundland poet who passed away a year and a half ago. my favourite poenm of hers is Then Again
THEN AGAIN

Whenever I think about you
And all the things we could do
A touch of lace, a taste of leather
And I do so love you
Life is never what it seems
And love comes on us all unseen
So I dance upon your tether
Your kiss will set me free
But then again
Now and then
I could make you smile
If you've got some time to spend
But then again

The memory of your smiles
Across all these cold miles
Just another junkie girl to you
But all the same I'll be true
I am yours can't you see
All that I want is you for me
I would pay him cash money
Just to set you free
But then again
Now and then
Once we begin we start the end
But then again

You’re all my world to me
But what am I to you
Just another pretty cunt
For the boys in the crew
But I’ll still give you your way
If you'll just take me away
And leave me at her feet if only for one day
Again and again
Just tell me when
I’ll stand her up
I’ll make her wave and bend
But then again

Now and then
I could make you smile
If you've got some time to spend
But then again

Maddy vanD


http://geocities.com/maddyvand/

_____________________________

Big man! Pig Man!
Ha Ha...Charade you are!

Why do they leave out the letter b on "Garage Sale" signs?

CM's #1 All-Time Also-Ran


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RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 7:35:31 PM   
dovie


Posts: 1211
Status: offline
greetings Jacob,
 
my favorite:
 
Alone
(1830)
                by Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
My passions from a common spring —
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow — I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone —
And all I loved — I loved alone —
Then — in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life — was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still —
From the torrent, or the fountain —
From the red cliff of the mountain —
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold —
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by —
From the thunder and the storm —
And the cloud that took the form
When the rest of Heaven was blue
Of a demon in my view. —

this poem helped me understand that i was not alone in my "differences;" soothed me even as i endured my own "stormy life."

be well,
dovie

_____________________________

"Sometimes love is a nice long lick!"

gentle dove with 38's *the kind you shoot with*


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RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 8:03:47 PM   
velvetears


Posts: 2933
Joined: 6/19/2006
Status: offline 		FR

William Wordsworth's Tintern Abbey (too long to post) i first read his poetry in HS and this particular poem has always remained very special to me.

This is a short poem by a wonderful current poet named Javan
             
  I think I would rather possess

Eyes that know no sight

Ears that know no sound

Hands that know no touch

Than a Heart
That knows no Love


< Message edited by velvetears -- 7/21/2007 8:05:10 PM >

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Religion is for people who are scared of hell, Spirituality is for people who have been there

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RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 11:04:58 PM   
SDFemDom4cuck


Posts: 2809
Joined: 5/23/2005
From: P'burgh PA
Status: offline 		Auugh there are so many. Anything by Kahlil Gibran. I believe someone already beat me to Frost's Yellowed Woods. Then there's Pablo Neruda.

Sonnet LXXXI
And now you're mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
and you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber.

No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,
we will go together, over the waters of time.
No one else will travel through the shadows with me,
only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.

Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
and let their soft drifting signs drop away; your eyes closed like two gray
wings, and I move

after, following the folding water you carry, that carries
me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.

Pablo Neruda
XVII (I do not love you...)
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

The Saddest Poem
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.

Pablo Neruda
I could go on and on with Neruda but I'll leave a link to his poems. http://www.poemhunter.com/pablo-neruda/
 
I can't remember who to attribute this last one to but it's one I love.
 
I Don't Care
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing...

It doesn't interest me how old you are - I want to know if you are willing to risk looking like a fool for true love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain...

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or sooth it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning me to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, your own or mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes"!

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children, and when the time comes in that grief; turn to me and hold me unafraid to cry for the loss of it.

I want to know if you can live with the unfairness of life. With the understanding that life isn't always 50/50. Some days you have to give more than you get and on others you will get more because you are incapable of giving. Can you live with that knowledge and continue to live each day with the slate wiped clean at the end of it. Can you accept that on some days one of us will hate the other, but at the end of the day love will make amends before you lie down beside me and sleep, without a word said; apologies unnecessary.

I want to know if you can love and be loved, trust and be trustworthy, comfort and grieve, laugh, sing, dance, live life full out  with abandon, without embarrassment, to just BE and live and hold grateful what you have and not miss what it is you don’t have.


< Message edited by SDFemDom4cuck -- 7/21/2007 11:06:59 PM >

_____________________________

Ms Jo

She dealt her pretty words like Blades -
How glittering they shone -
And every One unbared a Nerve
Or wantoned with a Bone -

I want a sensitive man - one who'll cry when I hit him.

(in reply to Jacobthm)
Profile   Post #: 16
RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 11:12:25 PM   
Mercnbeth


Posts: 11766
Status: offline
Edgar Allan Poe has been my long time favorite. My favorite work of his:
 
A Dream Within A Dream
 
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep - while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

(in reply to SDFemDom4cuck)
Profile   Post #: 17
RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/21/2007 11:49:31 PM   
kiyari


Posts: 631
Status: offline 		Jabberwocky! Yes, I second (third?) that one.

Poe seems to be a common muse in here...

Another Poe which touched Me ~

ANNABELLE LEE  - Author: Edgar Allan Poe

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 sepulcher
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 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 sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

_____________________________

Black Water Dragon

(in reply to Mercnbeth)
Profile   Post #: 18
RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/22/2007 1:46:27 AM   
Hottiegurl


Posts: 180
Joined: 3/27/2006
Status: offline 		Oh the joys of reading stories and poetry I love it all.  I go back into history a lot.  I also love the movie of this.. great classic.. The movie is Omar Khayyam with Cornell Wilde.  These are just some of my favorites and ones in the movie as well.  The first one you most likely have heard.
 
    The Rubaiyat by Omar Khayyam
 
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp
Abode his destined Hour, and went his way.

Ah, Love! could you and I with Him conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits--and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
 
And when like her, oh, Saki, you shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in your joyous errand reach the spot
Where I made One--turn down an empty Glass!



 

(in reply to kiyari)
Profile   Post #: 19
RE: Your favoritte poems. - 7/22/2007 5:41:35 AM   
slaveluci


Posts: 4294
Joined: 3/2/2007
From: Little Rock, AR
Status: offline



I actually have two favorites so I'll list both if that's ok.....

#1:

"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.....#2:

"Christ Climbed Down"

Christ climbed down
from his bare tree
this year
and ran away to where there we no rootless Christmas trees
hung with candy canes and breakable stars.

Christ climbed down
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
there were no gilded Christmas trees
and no tinsel Christmas trees
and no tinfoil Christmas trees
and no pink plastic Christmas trees
and no black Christmas trees
and no powder blue Christmas trees
hung with electric candles and encircled by tin electric trains
and clever cornball relatives.

Christ climbed won
from His bare Tree
this year
and ran away to where
no intrepid Bible salesmen
covered the territory
in two-tone cadillacs
and where no Sears Roebuck crèches complete with plastic babe in manger
arrived by parcel post, the babe by special delivery...

Christ climbed down
from his bare Tree
this year
and softly stole away into
some anonymous Mary's womb again
where in the darkest night
of everybody's anonymous soul
He awaits again
and unimaginable
and impossibly
Immaculate Reconception
the very craziest of Second Comings.

Lawrence Ferlinghetti. from A Coney Island of the Mind. New Directions, 1958.
 
Every poem from "A Coney Island of the Mind" is great, btw..............luci

< Message edited by slaveluci -- 7/22/2007 5:45:02 AM >

_____________________________

To choose a good book, look in an inquisitor’s prohibited list. ~John Aikin

(in reply to Jacobthm)
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