Your Favorite Poems

[journey]

Share your favorite poems.

Here's one of mine:

Souls And Rain-Drops

Light rain-drops fall and wrinkle the sea
Then vanish, and die utterly
One would not know that rain-drops fell
If the round sea-wrinkles did not tell.

So souls come down and wrinkle life
And vanish in the flesh-sea strife
One might not know that souls had place
Were't not? for the wrinkles in life's face.


-Unknown

[SLCPUNK]

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I?m a schizophrenic

And so am I.

[D]

Im nothing without your touch my? love
im nothing without your kiss
to spend each night in your arms my flower
is man's idea of bliss

to not hear your voice each day
would be to die 7 times by god's wrath
if i were anything other than human
id be the water in your bath.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? Prince

[Danny]

"The Tiff"

You aks if I have your number
And I reply
It's tatooed to my ass

[SLCPUNK]

Im nothing without your touch my? love
im nothing without your kiss
to spend each night in your arms my flower
is man's idea of bliss

to not hear your voice each day
would be to die 7 times by god's wrath
if i were anything other than human
id be the water in your bath.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? Prince

Damn, that's pretty tight!

[D]

 Because I could not stop for Death


Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.


                                      Emily Dickinson

[journey]

Dylan Thomas? ?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 the 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.

[matt88]

I can no longer take the pain
I have to make it end
I'm going to slit my wrists again
So goodbye to you my friend

Before I go I need to tell you
How I feel inside
What you really mean to me -
A better friend would be hard to find

You’ve always been there for me
No matter what imp going through
You make me sit and talk about it
But I can see its hurting you

So many times you’ve stopped me
You say you need me in your life
But I can only see me bringing you down
Each time I pick up the knife

I know I promised you I wouldn’t
But you'll be okay just wait and see
I know you can live a happy life
You’re better off without me

I drag the knife across my skin
Blood runs to the floor
Each time i'm cutting deeper
I cant stand living anymore

I close my eyes as I drift up
Finally leaving reality behind
I see the angels gather around
But heavens not what I had in mind

The angels I see are white
As if they're glowing from within
But I am dull, my wings are broken
I guess suicides a sin

They leave me alone in misery
As I watch you from above
Wishing I could be with you
Wishing I could feel your love

But I chose to take my life
And I took you away as well
I didn’t realise how much you loved me
I'm putting you through hell

I can see now, that you truly cared
And loved me with all your heart
I wish I didn’t take my life
Its torn us both apart

I can see you know, holding a knife
Your locked inside your room
You drag the knife across your skin
And I hear you whisper “well be together soon”.


My best friend wrote this not to long ago. I think she's very talented. In a few years she'll be writing A-grade material

[Skeletor]

'The Throne of Tragedy' by J?rn Henrik Sv?ren

Hear!
From this day forth
are the heights of Horeb broken
and the sea of sulphur
-ice.

And blasphemy!
in heaven's chambers:
Souls had fled their halls
and closed was the book of life.
And behold!
The great, white throne:
black
with sacred blood.

Our father-
Dead by his own hands:
an epitaph
worthy no king.

And so is everything
a nameless lie.
Who, my god,
am I?

Man knows me
as Lucifer, the serpent of old.
The wretched hold my banner high.
Your gift
-all life!-
I grant a grave.
Yet I am not your death.

Come carry forth the crown
to your once held throne.
Here is where my suffering should cease
-but alas: I am crowned
in grief unheard of!

In this lone monarchy
-without friend of foe-
I greet the morning sun
with strife and a song:
Please speak my name!
And leave me not
in the dust of death.

I am weighed down
beneath the tragedy crown,-
nameless,
and alone,
a fatherless son.

[MCT]

A Wish? - Matthew Arnold

I ask not that my bed of death
From bands of greedy heirs be free;
For these besiege the latest breath
Of fortune's favoured sons, not me.

I ask not each kind soul to keep
Tearless, when of my death he hears;
Let those who will, if any, weep!
There are worse plagues on earth than tears.

I ask but that my death may find
The freedom to my life denied;
Ask but the folly of mankind,
Then, at last, to quit my side.

Spare me the whispering, crowded room,
The friends who come, and gape, and go;
The ceremonious air of gloom -
All which makes death a hideous show!

Nor bring, to see me cease to live,
Some doctor full of phrase and fame,
To shake his sapient head and give
The ill he cannot cure a name.

Nor fetch, to take the accustomed toll
Of the poor sinner bound for death,
His brother doctor of the soul,
To canvass with official breath

The future and its viewless things -
That undiscovered mystery
Which one who feels death's winnowing wings
Must need read clearer, sure, than he!

Bring none of these; but let me be,
While all around in silence lies,
Moved to the window near, and see
Once more before my dying eyes

Bathed in the sacred dew of morn
The wide aerial landscape spread -
The world which was ere I was born,
The world which lasts when I am dead.

Which never was the friend of one,
Nor promised love it could not give,
But lit for all its generous sun,
And lived itself, and made us live.

There let me gaze, till I become
In soul with what I gaze on wed!
To feel the universe my home;
To have before my mind -instead

Of the sick-room, the mortal strife,
The turmoil for a little breath -
The pure eternal course of life,
Not human combatings with death.

Thus feeling, gazing, let me grow
Composed, refreshed, ennobled, clear;
Then willing let my spirit go
To work or wait elsewhere or here!

[Jim]

Now I havn't read much poetry, but I do enjoy it.

MCT...

...I havn't read that before. It's incredible.

[MCT]

...I havn't read that before. It's incredible.

Just one example of what some people refer to as - 'the good stuff'...........

Here's another:

A Poison Tree - William Blake

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I water'd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with my smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veil'd the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree
================================================================
And now, something a little more simplistic........one of those little gems that one  periodically comes across:

Blood and Water - Jay Macpherson

"Blood," my mother said, "is thicker."
Dulls sooner, clots quicker,
Crusts over.

Water, said my heart, is sweeter,
Sings clearer, leaps fleeter,
Gives ever.

[Doc Emmett Brown]

The poems that I love best are the ones that communicate the wonder of nature and science to us.? Although scientists are the ones who wonder the most about nature, it is often the poets who express this wonderment and magical feeling.

This is my absolute favorite poem by James Elroy Flecker

To a Poet a Thousand Years Hence

I who am dead a thousand years,
And wrote this sweet archaic song,
Send you my words for messengers
The way I shall not pass along.

I care not if you bridge the seas,
Or ride secure in the cruel sky,
Or build consummate palaces
Of metal or of masonry.

But have you wine and music still,
And statues and a bright-eyed love,
And foolish thoughts of good and ill,
And prayers to them who sit above?

How shall we conquer? Like a wind
That falls at eve our fancies blow,
And old Maeonides the blind
Said it three thousand years ago,

O friend unseen, unborn, unknown,
Student of our sweet English tongue,
Read out my words at night, alone:
I was a poet, I was young.

Since I can never see your face,
And never shake you by the hand,
I send my soul through time and space
To greet you. You will understand.

If only I could tell him that I want to ride the cruel sky and read out his words, alone, in the starry skies.

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.

That one is for Axl?

[Eazy E]

Roses are brown,

Violets are brown,

Who the hell shit in my garden?

[MCT]

To A Young Ass - Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Its mother being tethered near it

Poor little Foal of an oppress?d race!
I love the languid patience of thy face:
And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread,
And clap thy ragged coat, and pat thy head.
But what thy dulled spirits hath dismay?d,
That never thou dost sport along the glade?
And (most unlike the nature of things young)
That earthward still thy moveless head is hung?
Do thy prophetic fears anticipate,
Meek Child of Misery! thy future fate?
The starving meal, and all the thousand aches
?Which patient Merit of the Unworthy takes??
Or is thy sad heart thrill?d with filial pain
To see thy wretched mother's shorten?d chain?
And truly, very piteous is her lot -
Chain?d to a log within a narrow spot,
Where the close-eaten grass is scarcely seen,
While sweet around her waves the tempting green!

Poor Ass! they master should have learnt to show
Pity - best taught by fellowship of Woe!
For much I fear me that He lives like thee,
Half famished in a land of Luxury!
How askingly its footsteps hither bend?
It seems to say, 'And have I then one friend?'
Innocent foal! thou poor despis?d forlorn!
I hail thee Brother - spite of the fool's scorn!
And fain would take thee with me, in the Dell
Of Peace and mild Equality to dwell,
Where Toil shall call the charmer Health his bride,
And Laughter tickle Plenty's ribless side!
How thou wouldst toss thy heels in gamesome play,
And frisk about, as lamb or kitten gay!
Yea! and more musically sweet to me
Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be,
Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest
The aching of pale Fashion's vacant breast!

[N.I.B]

im too lazy to type it our, n im pretty sure youve all heard this poem before, but my all time favourite poem is
The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe

[MCT]

The Last Word - Matthew Arnold

Creep into thy narrow bed,
Creep, and let no more be said!
Vain thy onset! all stands fast.
Thou thyself must break at last.

Let the long contention cease!
Geese are swans, and swans are geese.
Let them have it how they will!
Thou art tired: best be still.

They out-talked thee, hissed thee, tore thee?
Better men fared thus before thee;
Fired their ringing shot and passed,
Hotly charged - and sank at last.

Charge once more, then, and be dumb!
Let the victors, when they come,
When the forts of folly fall,
Find thy body by the wall!

[Prometheus]

WILD nights! Wild nights!?
Were I with thee,?
Wild nights should be?
Our luxury!?
? ?
Futile the winds? ? ? ? ?
To a heart in port,??
Done with the compass,?
Done with the chart.?
? ?
Rowing in Eden!?
Ah! the sea!? ? ? ? ?
Might I but moor?
To-night in thee!

-Emily Dickinson

[Mattman]

"The Odyssey" by Homer technically counts as a poem, right? ?

In that case...

http://darkwing.uoregon.edu/~joelja/odyssey.html

[Hodgson]

This is my absolute favorite poem by James Elroy Flecker

To a Poet a Thousand Years Hence

Thanks for posting that.  I've read a lot of poetry and I'm not quite sure how I overlooked him before.  But I've done a yahoo search and have already found others by him that I like.

Here's a favorite of mine by Robert Graves:


WARNING TO CHILDREN

Children, if you dare to think
Of the greatness, rareness, muchness,
Fewness of this precious only
Endless world in which you say
You live, you think of things like this:
Blocks of slate enclsoing dappled
Red and green, enclosing tawny
Yellow nets, enclosing white
And black acres of dominoes,
Where a neat brown paper parcel
Tempts you to untie the string.
In the parcel a small island,
On the island a large tree,
On the tree a husky fruit.
Strip the husk and pare the rind off:
In the kernal you will see
Blocks of slate enclosed by dappled
Red and gree, enclosed by tawny
Yellow nets, enclosed by white
And Black acres of dominoes,
Where the same brown paper parcel--
Children, leave the string alone!
For who dares undo the parcel
Finds himself at once inside it,
On the island, in the fruit,
Blocks of slate about his head,
Finds himself enclosed by dappled
Green and red, enclosed by yellow
Tawny nets, enclosed by black
And white acres of dominoes,
With the same brown paper parcel
Still unopened on his knee.
And, if he then should dare to think
Of the fewness, muchness, rareness,
Greatness of this endless only
Precious world in which he says
He lives--he then unties the string.