Favorite Poems

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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby cmsellers » Tue Jun 10, 2014 7:32 pm

Readersprite wrote:This one goes by a FAR catchier title:
On A Stupendous Leg of Granite, Discovered Standing by Itself in the Deserts of Egypt, with the Inscription Inserted Below
IN Egypt's sandy silence, all alone,
Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws
The only shadow that the Desert knows:—
"I am great OZYMANDIAS," saith the stone,
"The King of Kings; this mighty City shows
"The wonders of my hand."— The City's gone,—
Nought but the Leg remaining to disclose
The site of this forgotten Babylon.

We wonder,—and some Hunter may express
Wonder like ours, when thro' the wilderness
Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chace,
He meets some fragment huge, and stops to guess
What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.

I like both versions, but when I was visiting Sardis, the former capital of Lydia, Horace Smith's version was the one that really resonated.
Despite the impressive ruins and beautiful setting, Sardis doesn't even even appear on most travel guides (I assume that this is because more of Ephesus and Pergamon have been unearthed, and because those sites are easier for Cruise ship passengers to get to.)

Any rate, the stop for Sardis is in the middle of nowhere, then you walk for about two miles past a small village in beautiful but desolate countryside.

Only the Roman portion of the city has been uncovered, though grassy knolls give hints as to where older structures might be buried. And on those knolls are flocks of grazing sheep, together with the occassional behive or shepherd.

Howling wolves and London thus seem more appropriate to Sardis, the New York City of the ancient world, than do mighty statues in a desert.

Any rate, here's my favorite poem:
Emily Dickinson wrote:There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry—
This traverse may the poorest take
Without opress of toll—
How frugal is the chariot
That bears the human soul

Though I only just realized in looking the poem up that it's "coursers" and not "corsairs." I usually just recite it.
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That's just not true at all.
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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby Blackfish » Sun Aug 24, 2014 11:02 am

The Conqueror Worm by Edgar Allen Poe
Spoiler: show
Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, he winged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly—
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Wo!

That motley drama—oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And the angels sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.

Out—out are the lights—out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
And the angels, all pallid, and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.
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In the night there is something wild
Can you hear it breathing?
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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby EvilerDictator » Wed Sep 17, 2014 1:37 pm

SONNET 71
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled 
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:
Nay, if you read this line, remember not 
The hand that writ it; for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
If thinking on me then should make you woe. 
O, if, I say, you look upon this verse
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.
But let your love even with my life decay,
   Lest the wise world should look into your moan
   And mock you with me after I am gone. 
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Have me, I'm a love albatross!
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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby jbobsully11 » Sun Oct 12, 2014 3:26 am

Here's an odd one I first read in a textbook in sixth grade, apparently about how little kids think of arithmetic.
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Crimson847 wrote:In other words, transgender-friendly privacy laws don't molest people, people molest people.

(Presumably, the only way to stop a bad guy with a transgender-friendly privacy law is a good guy with a transgender-friendly privacy law, and thus transgender-friendly privacy law rights need to be enshrined in the Constitution as well)
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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby Aquila89 » Sun Oct 12, 2014 3:42 pm

A good poem about depression - on reddit, of all places.
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As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.
--Carl Jung
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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby jbobsully11 » Mon Oct 13, 2014 3:29 pm

Aquila89 wrote:A good poem about depression - on reddit, of all places.

That poem (and some of the comments) sent chills down my spine. Just... wow.
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Crimson847 wrote:In other words, transgender-friendly privacy laws don't molest people, people molest people.

(Presumably, the only way to stop a bad guy with a transgender-friendly privacy law is a good guy with a transgender-friendly privacy law, and thus transgender-friendly privacy law rights need to be enshrined in the Constitution as well)
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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby Matthew Notch » Sat Oct 25, 2014 7:25 pm

A good one by Bill Watterson.

My mom and my dad are not what they seem.
Their dull appearance is part of their scheme.
I know of their plans. I know their techniques.
My parents are outer space alien freaks!

They landed on Earth in spaceships humongous
Posing as grownups, they now walk among us.
My parents deny this, but I know the truth.
They're here to enslave me and spoil my youth.

Early each morning, as the sun rises,
Mom and Dad put on their Earthling disguises.
I knew right away their masks weren't legit.
Their faces are lined - they sag and don't fit.

The earth's gravity makes them sluggish and slow.
They say not to run, wherever I go.
They live by the clock. They're slaves to routines.
They work the year 'round. They're almost machines.

They deny that TV and fried food have much worth.
They cannot be human. They're not of this Earth.
I cannot escape their alien gaze,
And they're warping my mind with their alien ways.
For sinister plots, this one is a gem.
They're bringing me up to turn ME into THEM!
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"I do feel that if she happens to favour attractive, successful, intelligent men I will be at a disadvantage."--Anglerphobe

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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby Aquila89 » Sat Nov 29, 2014 12:30 am

Another good one from the same redditor:

I have my say,' say I, with pride;
I say, 'my say', and feel inside
A shiny sense of warmth and worth -
For I've my part and place on Earth.

'My say,' I say, 'is worth the same
As any folk of funds or fame,
For I've,' say I, with cherished glee,
'A voice in my democracy.'


And so it is I sleep at night,
And know that all is well and right -
While golden men on business boards
All have their say... and mine, and yours.
  • 2

As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.
--Carl Jung
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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby Jack Road » Sat Nov 29, 2014 2:19 pm



Anybody interested in doing a TCS Poetry Reading? I was thinking about doing it if anyone could handle music and audio, maybe visual.

Could someone just do all the things for me? Is what I am saying.

All of this guy's readings are just gorgeous by the way.
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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby jbobsully11 » Sat Nov 29, 2014 3:44 pm

Aquila: I've been checking that Redditor's posts for new poems ever since you put that first one here; those poems are really amazing. If I copied all my favorites, I'd be here forever, but here's one:

If I could write a verse one day
To help you see, I would.
'There's folks who've got it worse,' you say,
'But you? You've got it good.'

Of course you're right.
I know it's true.
But here's the thing, you see -
No matter what they're going through,
It stays the same for me.


You see, it's not about the stuff
That will or won't occur -
I've love in life and friends enough
To make me wish it were.

I'm not 'upset' because I'm poor,
Nor 'sad' for something small.
They've got it worse - I know I've more.
I simply am. That's all.
  • 3

Crimson847 wrote:In other words, transgender-friendly privacy laws don't molest people, people molest people.

(Presumably, the only way to stop a bad guy with a transgender-friendly privacy law is a good guy with a transgender-friendly privacy law, and thus transgender-friendly privacy law rights need to be enshrined in the Constitution as well)
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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby Blackfish » Wed Dec 03, 2014 3:34 am

Sack of the Gods

Strangers drawn from the ends of the earth, jewelled and plumed were we;
I was Lord of the Inca race, and she was Queen of the Sea.
Under the stars beyond our stars where the new-forged meteors glow,
Hotly we stormed Valhalla, a million years ago!

Ever 'neath high Valhalla Hall the well-tuned horns begin,
When the swords are out in the underworld, and the weary Gods come in.
Ever through high Valhalla Gate the Patient Angel goes
He opens the eyes that are blind with hate - he joins the hands of foes.

Dust of the stars was under our feet, glitter of stars above
Wrecks of our wrath dropped reeling down as we fought and we spurned and we strove.
Worlds upon worlds we tossed aside, and scattered them to and fro,
The night that we stormed Valhalla, a million years ago!

They are forgiven as they forgive all those dark wounds and deep.
Their beds are made on the Lap of Time and they lie down and sleep.
They are forgiven as they forgive all those old wounds that bleed.
They shut their eyes from their worshippers; they sleep till the world has need.

She with the star I had marked for my own - I with my set desire -
Lost in the loom of the Night of Nights - lighted by worlds afire -
Met in a war against the Gods where the headlong meteors glow,
Hewing our way to Valhalla, a million years ago!

They will come back - come back again, as long as the red Earth rolls.
He never wasted a leaf or a tree. Do you think He would squander souls?

- Rudyard Kipling

I don't entirely get everything going on here (who is the 'Patient Angel' alluding to?) but it's so beautiful nonetheless.
  • 4

In the night there is something wild
Can you hear it breathing?
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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby D-LOGAN » Wed Jan 14, 2015 12:23 am

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.


"The Cremation of Sam McGee" by Robert W. Service

Chilling ...
  • 5

Not just yet, I'm still tender from before.
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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby Deathclaw_Puncher » Wed Jan 14, 2015 2:11 am

Ozymandias
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

The Voluspa
Heidi men call me when their homes I visit,
A far seeing Volva, wise in talismans.
Caster of spells, cunning in magic.
To wicked women welcome always.

Arm rings and necklaces, Odhinn you gave me
To learn my lore, to learn my magic:
Wider and wider through all worlds I see.

Outside I sat by myself when you came,
Terror of the gods, and gazed in my eyes.
What do you ask of me? Why tempt me?
Odhinn, I know where your eye is concealed,
Hidden away in the well of Mimir:
Mimir each morning his mead drinks
From Valfather's pledge. Well would you know more?

Of Heimdal too and his horn I know.
Hidden under the holy tree
Down on it pours a precious stream
from Valfather's pledge
Well would you know more?

Silence I ask of the sacred folk,
Silence of the kith and kin of Heimdal:
At your will Valfather, I shall well relate
The old songs of men I remember best.

I tell of giants from times forgotten.
Those who fed me in former days:
Nine worlds I can reckon, nine roots of the tree.
The wonderful ash, way under the ground

When Ymir lived long ago
Was no sand or sea, no surging waves.
Nowhere was there earth nor heaven above.
Bur a grinning gap and grass nowhere.

The sons of Bur then built up the lands.
Moulded in magnificence middle-Earth:
Sun stared from the south on the stones of their hall,
From the ground there sprouted green leeks.

Sun turned from the south, sister of Moon,
Her right arm rested on the rim of Heaven;
She had no inkling where her hall was,
Nor Moon a notion of what might he had,
The planets knew not where their places were.

The high gods gathered in council
In their hall of judgement. all the rulers:
To Night and to Nightfall their names gave,
The Morning they named and the Mid-Day,
Mid-Winter, Mid-Summer, for the assigning of years.

At Ida's Field the Aesir met:
Temple and altar they timbered and raised,
Set up a forge to smithy treasures,
Tongs they fashioned and tools wrought;

Played chess in the court and cheerful were;
Gold they lacked not, the gleaming metal
Then came three, the Thurs maidens,
Rejoicing in their strength, from Giant-home.

The high Gods gathered in council.
In their hall of judgement: Who of the dwarves
Should mould man by master craft
From Brimir's blood and Blain' s limbs?

Motsognir was their mighty ruler,
Greatest of dwarves, and Durin after him :
The dwarves did as Durin directed,
Many man forms made from the earth.

Nyi and Nidi, Nordri, Sudri, Austri and Vestri, Althjof, Dvalin, Bivor, Bavor Bombur, Nori, An and Anar, Ai, Mjodvitnir, Veignr and Gandalf, Vindalf, Thorin, Thror and Thrain, Thekkur, Litur, Vitur, Nar and Nyradur, Fili, Kili, Fundin, Nali Hefti, Vili, Hanar, Sviur, Billing, Bruni, Bildur, and Buri, Frar, Hornbori Fraegur, Loni, Aurvangur, Jari, Eikinskjaldi:
(All Durin's folk I have duly named,)

I must tell of the dwarves in Dvalin' s host;
Like lions they were in Lofar's time:
In Juravale's marsh they made their dwelling,
From their Stone hall set out on journeys,

There was Draupnir and Dolgthrasir, Har, Haugspori, Hlevangur, Gloi, Dori, Ori, Dufur, Andvari, Skirvir, Virvir Skafidur, Ai, Alf and Yngvi, Eikinskjaldi, Fjalar and Frosti, Finn and Ginnar: Men will remember while men live
The long line of Lofar's forbears.

Then from the host three came,
Great, merciful, from the God's home:
Ash and Elm on earth they found,
Faint, feeble, with no fate assigned them

Breath they had not, nor blood nor senses,
Nor language possessed, nor life-hue:
Odhinn gave them breath, Haenir senses,
Blood and life hue Lothur gave.

I know an ash tree, named Yggdrasil:
Sparkling showers are shed on its leaves
That drip dew, into the dales below,
By Urd's well it waves evergreen,
Stands over that still pool,
Near it a bower whence now there come
The Fate Maidens, first Urd,
Then Verdandi, the second
Skuld ,third of the Norns: scorer of runes,
The laws that determine the lives of men
They fixed forever and their fate sealed.

The first war in the world I well remember,
When Gullveig was spitted on spear-points
And burned in the hall of. the high god:
Thrice burned, thrice reborn,
Often laid low, she lives yet,

The gods hastened to their hall of judgement,
Sat in council to discover who
Had tainted all the air with corruption
And Odhinn's maid offered to the giants,

At the host Odhinn hurled his spear
In the first world-battle; broken was the plankwall
Of the gods fortress: the fierce Vanes
Caused war to occur in the fields.

The gods hastened to their hall of judgement,
Sat in council to discover who
Had tainted all the air with corruption
And Odhinn's maid offered to the giants.

One Thorr felled in his fierce rage;
Seldom he sits when of such he hears:
Oaths were broken, binding vows,
Solemn agreements sworn between them.

Valkyries I saw, coming from afar,
Eagerly riding to aid the Goths;
Skuld bore one shield, Skogul another
Gunn, Hild, Gondul and Spearskogul:
Duly have I named the daughters of Odhinn,
The valiant riders the Valkyries.

Baldur I saw the bleeding God,
His fate still hidden, Odhinn's Son:
Tall on the plain a plant grew,
A slender marvel, the mistletoe.

From that fair shrub, shot by Hodur,
Flew the fatal dart that felled the god,
But Baldur' s brother was born soon after:
Though one night old, Odhinn's Son
Took a vow to avenge that death.

His hands he washed not nor his hair combed.
Till Baldur's bane was borne to the pyre:
Deadly the bow drawn by Vali,
The strong string of stretched gut,
But Frigga wept in Fensalir
For the woe of Valhalla. Well, would you know more?

I see one in bonds by the boiling springs;
Like Loki he looks, loathsome to view:
There Sigyn sits, sad by her husband,
In woe by her man. Well would you know more?

From the east through Venom Valley runs
Over jagged rocks the River Gruesome.

North, in Darkdale, stands the dwelling place
Of Sindri's kin, covered with gold;
A hall also in Everfrost,
The banquet hall of Brimir the giant.

A third I see, that no sunlight reaches,
On Dead Man's Shore: the doors face northward,
Through its smoke vent venom drips,
Serpent skins enskein that hall.

Men wade there tormented by the stream,
Vile murderers, men forsworn
And artful seducers of other mens wives:
Nidhogg sucks blood from the bodies of the dead
The wolf rends them. Well, would you know more?

In the east dwells a crone, in Ironwood:
The brood of Fenris are bred there
Wolf-monsters, one of whom
Eventually shall devour the sun.

The giants watchman, joyful Eggthur
Sits on his howe and harps well:
The red cock, called All-Knower
Boldly crows from Birdwood.

Goldencomb to the gods crows
Who wakes the warriors in Valhalla:
A soot red hen also calls
From Hel's hall, deep under the ground.

Loud howls Garm before Gnipahellir,
Bursting his fetters, Fenris runs:
Further in the future afar I behold
The twilight of the gods who gave victory.

Brother shall strike brother and both fall,
Sisters' sons defiled with incest;
Evil be on earth, an age of. whoredom,
Of sharp sword-play and shields clashing,
A wind-age, a wolf-age till the world ruins:
No man to another shall mercy show.

The waters are troubled, the waves surge up:
Announcing now the knell of Fate,
Heimdal winds his horn aloft,
On Hel's road all men tremble

Yggdrasil trembles, the towering ash
Groans in woe; the wolf is loose:
Odhinn speaks with the head of Mimir
Before he is swallowed by Surt's kin.

From the east drives Hrym, lifts up his shield
The squamous serpent squirms with rage
The great worm with the waves contending
The pale-beaked eagle pecks at the dead,
Shouting for joy: the ship Naglfar

Sails out from the east, at its helm Loki
With the children of darkness, the doom-bringers
Offspring of monsters, allies of the wolf,
All who Byleists's brother follow.

What of the gods? What of the elves?
Gianthome groans the gods are in council
The dwarves grieve before their door of stone,
Masters of walls. Well, would you know more?

Surt with the bane of branches comes
From the south, on his sword the sun of the Valgods,
Crags topple, the crone falls headlong,
Men tread Hel's road, the Heavens split open.

A further woe falls upon Hlin
As Odhinn comes forth to fight the wolf;
The killer of Beli battles with Surt:
Now shall fall Frigga's beloved.

Now valiant comes Valfather's son,
Vidar, to vie with Valdyr in battle,
Plunges his sword into he son of Hvedrung,
Avenging his father with a fell thrust.

Now the son of Hlodyn and Odhinn comes
To fight with Fenris; fiercest of warriors
He mauls in his rage all Middle-Earth;
Men in fear all flee their homesteads;
Nine paces back steps Bur's son
Retreats from the worm of taunts unafraid.

Now death is the portion of doomed men,
Red with blood the buildings of gods,
The sun turns black in the summer after,
Winds whine. Well, would know more?

Earth sinks in the sea, the sun turns black,
Cast down from Heaven are the hot stars,
Fumes reek, into flames burst,
The sky itself is scorched with fire.

I see Earth rising a second time
Out of the foam, fair and green;
Down from the fells fish to capture,
Wings the eagle; waters flow.

At lda's Field the Aesir meet:
They remember the worm of Middle-Earth,
Ponder again the great twilight
And the ancient runes of the high god

Boards shall be found of a beauty to wonder at,
Boards of gold in the grass long after,
The chess boards they owned in the olden days,

Unsown acres shall harvests bear,
Evil be abolished, Baldur return
And Hropt's hall with Hod rebuild,
Wise gods. Well, would you know more?

Haenir shall wield the wand of prophecy,
The sons two brothers set up their dwelling
In wide Windhome. Well, would you know more?

Fairer than sunlight, I see a hall
A hall thatched with gold in Gimle:
Kind Lords shall live there in delight for ever.

Now rides the Strong One to Rainbow Door,
Powerful from heaven, the All-Ruler:
From the depths below a drake comes flying
The dark dragon from Darkfell,
Bears on his pinions the bodies of men,
Soars overhead I sink now.
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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby RainyDays » Fri Feb 13, 2015 11:49 pm

Short poem, WWII era. This one has come up over and over again in my life, often in different classes, and every time that last line hits harder.

The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.

-Randall Jarrell


The following author's note clarifies some of the imagery:

"A ball turret was a Plexiglas sphere set into the belly of a B-17 or B-24, and inhabited by two .50 caliber machine-guns and one man, a short small man. When this gunner tracked with his machine guns a fighter attacking his bomber from below, he revolved with the turret; hunched upside-down in his little sphere, he looked like the foetus in the womb. The fighters which attacked him were armed with cannon firing explosive shells. The hose was a steam hose."
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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby LegionofShrooms » Sun Feb 22, 2015 9:03 pm

Thank you for posting a link to that reddit page. I've not heard of that person before, but they have a surprising gift, and I'm glad I read it.

As for favorite poems, there are many for me, but the passage that always stuck with me most was from Robert Frost's "Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening".

The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep
.
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