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 7 of 7 pages. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
Caseena
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l(a le af fa ll s) one l iness by E.E. Cummings I thought it was just nonsense when I first read it; a few readings later, I went, "Whoa...." and after a few more readings thought, "There's layers of meaning here." Very clever poem. Reply #121. May 17 19, 2:27 PM |
rubytops 
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St Agnes Eve John Keats Reply #122. Jun 09 19, 10:12 AM |
pokho
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Hard to pick one , so just mentioning off the top of my head - "We Only Want the Earth" by James Connolly https://www.marxists.org/archive/connolly/1907/xx/wewnerth.htm Reply #123. Jun 23 19, 4:30 PM |
Mixamatosis
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Not my favourite poem but an amusing one. I don't know where else to post it. 'Spell Checker'. Poem 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. Reply #124. Jul 10 20, 11:43 PM |
| rubytops
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I love it...... Reply #125. Jul 11 20, 7:24 AM |
Dagny1
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That's great! Thanks for sharing. Reply #126. Jul 11 20, 11:07 AM |
DireWolf74
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Mine is "The Dream" by Lord Byron Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off waking toils, They do divide our being; they become A portion of ourselves as of our time, And look like heralds of eternity; They pass like spirits of the past—they speak Like sibyls of the future; they have power— The tyranny of pleasure and of pain; They make us what we were not—what they will, And shake us with the vision that's gone by, The dread of vanished shadows—Are they so? Is not the past all shadow?—What are they? Creations of the mind? Reply #127. Jul 11 20, 1:38 PM |
| DireWolf74
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The one Mix posted is great too. :-) Reply #128. Jul 11 20, 1:39 PM |
horadada
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Robert W. Service. The cremation of Sam McGee. Reply #129. Jul 11 20, 1:57 PM |
| rubytops
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One of my favourite poems is:. When You Are Old......William Butler Yeats. When you are old and gray and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrims soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. Reply #130. Jul 15 20, 1:50 PM |
paulmallon
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"The Cremation of Sam McGee" (Robert W. Service) Reply #131. Sep 06 20, 12:51 PM |
| SeaBreeze12
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"The Second Coming," W.B. Yeats. I'm not sure it's my favorite, but I do think about it a lot in our anxious times. Reply #132. Sep 23 20, 7:58 PM |
| SeaBreeze12
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Here's the first verse of the poem I mentioned above, "The Second Coming." Sorry I didn't post it earlier. 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 conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. Reply #133. Oct 05 20, 1:48 PM |
| paulmallon
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Poe's, "The Raven" Reply #134. Oct 05 20, 10:31 PM |
VBookWorm
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'The Raven' by Edgar Allen Poe. Reply #135. Oct 04 22, 10:48 AM |
lordprescott
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"How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix" by Robert Browning. Reply #136. Jan 18 23, 10:41 AM |
| rubytops
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Christabel...... Coleridge 'Tis the middle of the night by the castle clock And the owls have awakened the crowing clock Reply #137. Feb 07 23, 2:56 PM |
| Philip_Eno
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Down The Stream The Swans All Glide by Spike Milligan Down the stream the swans all glide; It's quite the cheapest way to ride. Their legs get wet, Their tummies wetter: I think after all The bus is better Reply #138. Feb 09 23, 3:25 PM |
| Eruditio
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I have several favorites (for example, by Poe, Carroll, Lear, not always in that order), but here is one by E. Y. Harburg in his collection Rhymes for the Irreverent that I quite enjoy: Shall I Write to My Congressman? A Congressman has got two ends, A sitting, and a thinking end, And since his livelihood depends Upon his seat--why bother, friend? * * * * * * * Seriously, though, if you have something to say to your elected representatives, don't hesitate to write them. At least you can say you tried. Reply #139. Oct 12 23, 10:46 PM |
139 replies. On page 7 of 7 pages. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
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