Favorite Poems

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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby D-LOGAN » Mon May 08, 2017 3:33 pm

“See the TURTLE of enormous girth!
On his shell he holds the earth.
His thought is slow but always kind;
He holds us all within his mind.
On his back all vows are made;
He sees the truth but may not said.
He loves the land and loves the sea,
And even loves a child like me”

-Stephen King.
  • 5

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

Postby jbobsully11 » Sun Aug 13, 2017 12:55 am

I just heard of this one earlier today, and find it especially fitting for the US today:
"Let America be America Again", by Langston Hughes
  • 4

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 » Tue Sep 12, 2017 8:48 pm

Some people can read about the suffering of humans, but the suffering of dogs is too much for them. (My mother is like that, but with cats.) They should not read the following poem.

John Updike: Dog's Death

She must have been kicked unseen or brushed by a car.
Too young to know much, she was beginning to learn
To use the newspapers spread on the kitchen floor
And to win, wetting there, the words, "Good dog! Good dog!"

We thought her shy malaise was a shot reaction.
The autopsy disclosed a rupture in her liver.
As we teased her with play, blood was filling her skin
And her heart was learning to lie down forever.

Monday morning, as the children were noisily fed
And sent to school, she crawled beneath the youngest's bed.
We found her twisted and limp but still alive.
In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she tried

To bite my hand and died. I stroked her warm fur
And my wife called in a voice imperious with tears.
Though surrounded by love that would have upheld her,
Nevertheless she sank and, stiffening, disappeared.

Back home, we found that in the night her frame,
Drawing near to dissolution, had endured the shame
Of diarrhoea and had dragged across the floor
To a newspaper carelessly left there. Good dog.
  • 4

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 D-LOGAN » Fri Sep 15, 2017 12:37 pm

Ceasefire

I

Put in mind of his own father and moved to tears

Achilles took him by the hand and pushed the old king

Gently away, but Priam curled up at his feet and

Wept with him until their sadness filled the building.

II

Taking Hector's corpse into his own hands Achilles

made sure it was washed and, for the old king's sake,

Laid out in uniform, ready for Priam to carry

Wrapped like a present home to Troy at daybreak.

III

When they had eaten together, it pleased them both

To stare at each other's beauty as lovers might,

Achilles built like a god, Priam good-looking still

And full of conversation, who earlier had sighed:

IV

I get down on my knees and do what must be done

And kiss Achilles' hand, the killer of my son.

-Michael Longley

Watched Troy the other night, reminded me of this. Brilliant film.
  • 2

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

Postby jbobsully11 » Wed May 30, 2018 5:47 am

"Alone" 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 lov’d—I lov’d alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry 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 roll’d
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—
  • 6

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 jbobsully11 » Thu Oct 04, 2018 4:08 pm

I'm pretty sure I've heard of this one before, but forgot that it existed until a few days ago, from a comment made to a song on Youtube that Sekhmet posted in the tea party thread.

"There was a little girl" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.
  • 4

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 IamNotCreepy » Thu Oct 04, 2018 6:20 pm

Sounds like my daughter.
  • 4

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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby cmsellers » Sat Jan 19, 2019 8:36 pm

Discovered an amusing new poem

Oliver Goldsmith wrote:An Elegy On The Death of a Mad Dog

Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a man
Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran—
Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad—
When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad, and bit the man.

Around from all the neighbouring streets
The wond'ring neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost its wits
To bite so good a man.

The wound it seemed both sore and sad
To every Christian eye;
And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light
That showed the rogues they lied,—
The man recovered of the bite,
The dog it was that died!
  • 3

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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby Aquila89 » Wed Jan 30, 2019 7:58 pm

This comment inspired me to post a poem by Wisława Szymborska.

Cat in an Empty Apartment

Die? One does not do that to a cat.
Because what's a cat to do
in an empty apartment?
Climb the walls.
Caress against the furniture.
It seems that nothing has changed here,
but yet things are different.
Nothing appears to have been relocated,
yet everything has been shuffled about.
The lamp no longer burns in the evenings.

Footsteps can be heard on the stairway,
but they're not the ones.
The hand which puts the fish on the platter
is not the same one which used to do it.

Something here does not begin
at its usual time.
Something does not happen quite
as it should
Here someone was and was,
then suddenly disappeared
and now is stubbornly absent.

All the closets were peered into.
The shelves were walked through.
The rug was lifted and examined.
Even the rule about not scattering
papers was violated.

What more is to be done?
Sleep and wait.

Let him return,
at least make a token appearance.
Then he'll learn
that one shouldn't treat a cat like this.
He will be approached
as though unwillingly,
slowly,
on very offended paws.
With no spontaneous leaps or squeals at first.
  • 3

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 » Sun Mar 15, 2020 6:22 am

I just read these two from the book Anatomy of a Poet, by CJ Heck.

"Choices"

Life is full of crossroads,
the hard lefts or rights,
and little pathways
of curves, this way or that.
Each way has its own set
of bumps and potholes
and the occasional hairpin turn.
I've wondered at times
how my life might have differed
had I taken a different route.
Lord knows,
I could have used
a few more straight stretches
but at least I made choices,
some good, some not so good.
How sad for those
who merely hitchhike along
never daring to choose at all.
-----

"No More Words, Show Me"

Words slowly chip away
at the good that was
til they deaden
a giving heart.
Plates piled high
with hurtful names,
or full of blame,
pointing angry fingers
with words.
(Clean up your plate,
must eat up the reasons,
all the reasons
why I had to change,
never you).
Finish lines moved
with more words.
I love you's
thrown like confetti
as if your 'because'
was real.
No more words.
If you love me,
show me.
  • 1

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 jbobsully11 » Thu Apr 02, 2020 9:34 pm

a few more from Anatomy of a Poet (the first one is spoilered for length):

Spoiler: show
"I Am A Lady"

First and foremost,
I am a lady,
but I am so much more.
I am capable of
great insight and quiet wisdom,
undying devotion and love.
I am willing to give
more than receive
as long as it doesn’t
become habit
and you take and take
and never offer
anything in return.
I am a lady.
I am more than
a receptacle,
a body to be viewed
and screwed
at your leisure
giving no thought
to what goes on
above my neck.
I’ll not be
your window dressing,
nor your bobble-head doll
who nods in agreement
with everything
you say and do.
I am a lady.
I’ve heard it said
that to kiss a man
when he wants
to be kissed
is like scratching a place
that doesn’t itch,
but I can guarantee you
that I’ll always have an itch
and not just for kisses,
but only if I am loved
and the love is shared
with respect, kindness,
honesty and faithfulness.
Rest assured,
it will all be returned
to you ten-fold,
because you see,
once the bedroom door
closes and the passion
rages in my blood,
I don’t have to be
a lady any more...
-----

"In Search of Sleep"

Sleep, you ornery rascal,
why do you elude me?
Like a crush, you tease my senses,
you taunt me with your charms.
Needing you,
I'm bribed and baited,
Much smitten with desire.
Your allure in awkward places
has me always hiding yawns.
You deflower me in a movie,
your corrupt me on my couch.
Should you take up prostitution,
might I gladly buy some time?
Sleep come take me lying down,
not driving in my car!
Then sighing in depravity,
Again, I call from bed...
Sleep, you naughty pervert,
I want you, take me now!
-----

"Perfection..."

I’m coming, love.
I can hardly wait
to see you again,
and I'm high
on lusty feelings.
Your seductive body
molded with perfection,
as if for my eyes only.
Inhaling your rich scent,
I close my eyes
and imagine my body
melded into yours,
feeling your power
and your strength
as we move as one…
Now, if the damned salesman
will only come down
another thousand
or give me a little more
for my trade-in,
you'll finally be mine.
  • 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 jbobsully11 » Sat Aug 29, 2020 4:42 pm

“Invictus” by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
  • 2

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 jbobsully11 » Fri Jan 08, 2021 11:07 pm

Not long ago, I read a poem that was similar to "The Chaos," posted by Craic- on page 2 of this thread:

"Why English is So Hard"

We’ll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes,
But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes.
One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese,
Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.
You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice,
Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice.

If the plural of man is always called men,
Why shouldn’t the plural of pan be called pen?
If I speak of my foot and show you my feet,
And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet?
If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth,
Why shouldn’t the plural of booth be called beeth?

Then one may be that, and three would be those,
Yet hat in the plural would never be hose,
And the plural of cat is cats, not cose.
We speak of a brother and also of brethren,
But though we say mother, we never say methren.
Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him,
But imagine the feminine: she, shis and shim!
  • 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 Pedgerow » Sat Apr 17, 2021 6:51 pm

This isn't a favourite poem (I have just had it recommended to me on Facebook), but I think other posters will like it. It's certainly good enough to share.

Prayer for my Unborn Niece or Nephew, by Ross Gay

Today, November 28th, 2005, in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania,
I am staring at my hands in the common pose
of the hungry and penitent. I am studying again
the emptiness of my clasped hands, wherein I see
my sister-in-law days from birthing
the small thing which will erase,
in some sense, the mystery of my father's departure;
their child will emerge with ten fingers,
and toes, howling, and his mother will hold
his gummy mouth to her breast and the stars
will hang above them and not one bomb
will be heard through that night. And my brother will stir,
waking with his wife the first few days, and he will run
his long fingers along the soft terrain of his child's skull
and not once will he cover the child's ears
or throw the two to the ground and cover them
from the blasts. And this child will gaze
into a night which is black and quiet.
She will pull herself up to her feet
standing like a buoy in wind-grooved waters,
falling, and rising again, never shaken
by an explosion. And her grandmother
will watch her stumble through a park or playground,
will watch her sail through the air on swings,
howling with joy, and never once
will she snatch her from the swing and run
for shelter because again, the bombs are falling.
The two will drink cocoa, the beautiful lines
in my mother's face growing deeper as she smiles
at the beautiful boy flipping the pages of a book
with pictures of dinosaurs, and no bomb
will blast glass into this child's face, leaving
the one eye useless. No bomb will loosen the roof,
crushing my mother while this child sees
plaster and wood and blood where once his Nana sat.
This child will not sit with his Nana, killed by a bomb,
for hours. I will never drive across two states
to help my brother bury my mother this way. To pray
and weep and beg this child to speak again.
She will go to school with other children,
and some of them will have more food than others,
and some will be the witnesses of great crimes,
and some will describe flavors with colors, and some
will have seizures, and some will read two grade
levels ahead, but none of them will tip their desks
and shield their faces, nor watch as their teacher
falls out of her shoes, clinging to the nearest child.
This child will bleed
and cry and curse his living parents
and slam doors and be hurt and hurt again. And she will feel
clover on her bare feet. Will swim in frigid waters.
Will climb trees and spy cardinal chicks blind
and peeping. And no bomb will kill this child's parents.
No bomb will kill this child's grandparents. No bomb
will kill this child's uncles. And no bomb will kill
this child, who will raise to his mouth
some small morsel of food of which there is more
while bombs fall from the sky like dust
brushed from the hands of a stupid god and children
whose parents named them will become dust
and their parents will drape themselves in black
and dream of the tiny mouths which once reared
to suckle or gasp at some bird sailing by
and their tears will make a mud which will heal nothing,
and today I will speak no word
except the name of that child whose absence
makes the hands of her parents shiver. A name
which had a meaning.

As will yours.

—for Mikayla Grace
  • 2

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Re: Favorite Poems

Postby jbobsully11 » Thu Aug 12, 2021 11:33 pm

I first read this one about 15 years ago, but was just reminded of it earlier today.

"Spell Chequer"
by Martha Snow

Eye halve a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.

Eye strike a quay and type a word
And weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar write
It shows me strait a weigh.

As soon as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee fore two long
And eye can put the error rite
It's rare lea ever wrong.

Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased two no
It's letter perfect awl the weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.
  • 4

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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