Subject: Name your favorite poem.
Posted by: Les_Johnson
Date: Dec 10 07
Mine is Hugh Selwyn Mauberley by Ezra Pound. It puts lead in my pencil everytime I read it. Les
Posted by: Les_Johnson
Date: Dec 10 07
Mine is Hugh Selwyn Mauberley by Ezra Pound. It puts lead in my pencil everytime I read it. Les
139 replies. On page 2 of 7 pages. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
toocool4u
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Continued from Reply 17: Matt B looked at the board and said, "Well, well, well, It appears these pieces are forged straight from H***." "Using this board I win all the time, I've won so many souls it's almost a crime." "Not mine," replied Matt and made his first move, "The game has begun, now prepare to lose." The game went on and on and on, For days and for months and for years before long. "Just give it up Matt, the match is too even, You'll have a pitcher of punch and then I'll be leaving." Matt B was shocked, "Me? Give up? Never, We'll keep right on playing if it takes us forever." To be continued...(maybe, or I might just leave you hanging) Reply #21. Feb 04 08, 6:19 PM |
juliewalls
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My favourite poem of all time has to be To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvel, it's sheer bliss. Reply #22. Feb 13 08, 9:43 AM |
Silver_Knight 
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I favor Emily Dickinson's untitled poem which starts "I'll tell you how the sun rose..." Reply #23. Feb 13 08, 9:09 PM |
Trigger7
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"Lone Dog" by Irene Rutherford McLeod. We had to memorize this poem in Grade 5, and stand beside our desks to recite it . I was so shy and nervous way back then, but even now I still love the rhyming words and strong story. Reply #24. Feb 13 08, 10:00 PM |
highfells
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My favourite poem is "The Destined Hour", a powerful tale by F. L. Lucas. To Abou Seyd his servant came, Hussein, With ashen lips - “O Master, let me go Home to Samarra - I would come again In three days’ space.” Then, with a smile upon his sword-scarred face, The old Seyd answered: “Son, what drives thee so? Some sudden trouble? Nay, I need not know. For Allah is the Lord of all men’s ways.” “Oh Master, listen - I will tell thee why. In our bazaar but now I saw there stood A stranger, tall and silent. Passing by, I peered into his face. But ah, my breath Failed. For beneath his hood Two eyes burned – hollow. Master, it was Death! He raised his hand to strike. Oh let me fly! - Though Allah is the Lord of all men’s days”. Then Abou Seyd, old captain that had seen A hundred times across the battle glide The face of Death, inclined his head, serene; And Hussein vanished through the columned court. But laying God’s word aside, Across the noonday glare his Master sought The buzz of the bazaar. “Poor fool!” he thought. “Yet Allah is the Lord of all men’s ways. Loud swarmed the buyers round each booth and stall; But there by Omar’s Mosque, at the market’s end, Watched one shape like a shadow, gaunt and tall. Then drawing near, said Abou Seyd, “My friend, Why threaten my poor slave - so wantonly - That harmed thee not at all? In my hot youth I might have threatened thee, Forgetting Allah, Lord of all men’s days.” Then that dark face upon him bent such eyes, The scar upon Seyd’s cheek grew grey with fear. “I threatened not thy servant, Abou Seyd. But in surprise I raised my hand, to see him standing near. For this same night God bids my hand be laid Upon him at Samarra, far from here. Yet Allah is the Lord of all men’s ways.” Reply #25. Feb 15 08, 4:29 PM |
bluepolarbear
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Well, 'The Arrow and the Song' probably. I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, i knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong That it can follow the flight of a song? Long, long afterwards in an oak, I found the arrow still unbroke, And the song from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend. - H.W. Longfellow Well my interpretations are these: The arrow symbolizes good deeds done to a person. They will never forget it. The song symbolizes the memories shared together by friends. They will keep it in their hearts forever. Reply #26. Feb 15 08, 8:40 PM |
| Trigger7
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Here it is - My Favourite Poem, by Irene Rutherford McLeod. She was born in Australia in 1891, but I dont know when she wrote this poem, or when she died. I hope you enjoy it! LONE DOG I'm a lean dog, a keen dog, a wild dog and lone, I'm a rough dog , a tough dog, hunting on my own. I'm a bad dog, a mad dog, teasing silly sheep, I love to sit and bay the moon, to keep fat souls from sleep I'll never be a lap dog, licking dirty feet, A sleek dog, a meek dog, cringing for my meat, Not for me the fireside, the well-filled plate, But shut door, and sharp stone, and cuff, and kick,and hate. Not for me, the other dogs, running by my side, Some have run a short while, but none of them would bide. O mine is still the lone trail, the hard trail, the best, Wide wind, and wild stars, and hunger of the quest! Reply #27. Feb 16 08, 2:59 PM |
cheekymunkysm
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My favourite poem is the one on the AFI CD, Sing The Sorrow. It comes on at the start This Time Imperfect and it's a beautiful poem... Reply #28. Feb 16 08, 5:35 PM |
talentedone
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"Song" by Christina Rossetti When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me Plant thou no roses at my head Nor shady cypress tree Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on, as if in pain; And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget. Reply #29. Feb 16 08, 5:53 PM |
agony
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Oh, how about Ogden's Nash's "A Word to Husbands"? To keep your marriage brimming, With love in the loving cup Whenever you're wrong admit it Whenever you're right Shu t up. Modified so it could get past the censor. Reply #30. Feb 16 08, 10:40 PM |
| Bruce007
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"Charge of the Light Brigade" by Alfred Tennison. Reply #31. Feb 16 08, 11:15 PM |
Cymruambyth
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I have many, many poems that I like, but one that comes to mind is A.E. Housman's 'Loveliest of Trees' Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide. Now of my three-score years and ten Twenty will not come again And take from seventy springs a score That only lives me fifty more. And since to look at things in bloom Fifty springs is little room About the woodlands I will go To see the cherry hung with snow. Reply #32. Feb 24 08, 4:20 PM |
Jorgy4
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Theme in Yellow by Carl Sandburg. Reply #33. Feb 25 08, 1:37 PM |
papo2228
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My favorite poem was written by Ruben Darío and its title is "Los motivos del lobo ". It´s one of the greatest in tne Spanish language. It´s about St. Francis of Assizi and a wolf. Reply #34. Feb 25 08, 1:52 PM |
| skumma
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Cargoes by John Masefield was always one of my favourites, even at school; I love the rythym. QUINQUIREME of Nineveh from distant Ophir, Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine. Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus, Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores, With a cargo of diamonds, Emeralds, amythysts, Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores. Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack, Butting through the Channel in the mad March days, With a cargo of Tyne coal, Road-rails, pig-lead, Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays. Reply #35. Feb 26 08, 7:03 AM |
| rxbigdawg
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One of my favorite poets is ee cummings: a clown's smirk in the skull of a baboon... (LI) a clown's smirk in the skull of a baboon (where once good lips stalked or eyes firmly stirred) my mirror gives me,on this afternoon; i am a shape that can but eat and turd ere with the dirt death shall him vastly gird, a coward waiting clumsily to cease whom every perfect thing meanwhile doth miss; a hand's impression in an empty glove, a soon forgotten tune,a house for lease. I have never loved you dear as now i love e.e. cummings Reply #36. Feb 26 08, 9:34 AM |
| Cymruambyth
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Skumma, Martin Shaw set 'Cargoes' too music and it was one of the songs we sang at my school. The music uses and enhances the rhthym of Masefield's words and it is still one of my favourite songs. Reply #37. Feb 26 08, 2:00 PM |
DanielPoulson
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I think that my favourite is "Prayer Before Birth" by Louis MacNeice. I shan't type it out but if you're interested, you can read it here: http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=1560 Reply #38. Feb 26 08, 2:10 PM |
| skumma
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Cym- yes; it is so musical, growing up in Liverpool, the dirty British coasters I could see,the Quinquerimes fired my imagination and the stately Spanish galleons were like the second movement of a symphony. It wasn't until I discovered Sassoon, Graves, Owen, Thomas and Yeats that poetry started to appeal to me again. Reply #39. Feb 26 08, 2:11 PM |
| toocool4u
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Continued from reply 21: So Satan was trapped in an unending game, He had to keep playing, mumbling, "This is lame." He was clever Matt's captive and I tell you with glee, That when Satan died he lost his soul to Matt B. Matt took Satan's soul and put it into a jar, And said, "When you mess with Matt B, you never get far, I won the game, the price must be paid, I don't even want punch, I want lemonade!" So Matt turned around and walked out the door, Grabbed some change and went to the store. Reply #40. Feb 29 08, 10:13 PM |
139 replies. On page 2 of 7 pages. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
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