Page 1 of 2 12 LastLast
Results 1 to 15 of 18

Thread: Favourite poem

  1. #1
    dizzy up the girl Recognized Member Rye's Avatar
    Join Date
    Dec 2002
    Location
    a tiny boot
    Posts
    24,891
    Articles
    4
    Blog Entries
    3
    Contributions
    • Hosted Eyes on You
    • Former Cid's Knight

    Default Favourite poem

    What is your favourite poem? Post it please. I have two favourites, I absolutly love them. One is by one of my favourite singers, Kristine Sa. Another is from my favourite book of all time, Zazoo.

    Zazoo:

    She swam like no one I had known,
    this little girl of mine,
    as if into a fish she'd grown---
    all silver-finned and fine.
    But when the surface glazed with ice
    that sealed away her paradise
    she couldn't bear my sage advice
    on nature's sweet design,
    and wept--like no one I had known---
    this little girl of mine.

    But then she slept in air so clear
    that she could hardly help but hear
    the sound of someone coasting near
    along the bright divide.
    When she awoke, two slender skates
    sharp-edged for carving figure eights
    lay winking in the sunlight by her side--
    two glinting blades on midnight boots,
    longing to be tried.

    And now she flies, on nights so cold
    the dry canal ice sounds too old
    to creak and crack and barely hold
    her blades from slipping through--
    this under- and yes, over-water,
    liveliest, by far, granddaughter
    ever to have worn a skating shoe:
    this loveliest,
    no longer little
    girl I call Zazoo.

    ____________

    Anything Is Possible
    Kristine Sa

    A crumpled leaf fell from the ground
    and landed on a tree.
    A drop of rain rippled through the sky,
    it had fallen from the sea.
    An owl closed his eyes at ten,
    and slept throughout the night.
    A touch of water kissed a wick,
    and lit the candle bright.
    Who talks of the impossible?
    I say they should wake up.
    For bees can very well be stung
    by baby buttercups.
    Truth is nothing but a lie,
    and reality is a dream.
    Once awaken, you'll find the world
    Is not to what it seems.
    To every rule made in life,
    an exemption is conceived.
    Anything is possible, if only you believe.





  2. #2

    Default

    Unfortuanately, high school killed the whole concept of poetry for me. When you spend two months pulling apart a poem line by line, it ruins the whole thing.

  3. #3
    dizzy up the girl Recognized Member Rye's Avatar
    Join Date
    Dec 2002
    Location
    a tiny boot
    Posts
    24,891
    Articles
    4
    Blog Entries
    3
    Contributions
    • Hosted Eyes on You
    • Former Cid's Knight

    Default

    Yeah, I know how that's like. xD They make you hate it more than appreciate it. The only poems that I was introduced to in school that I still like are Of Mice and Men and any Robert Frost poem, since he's great.


  4. #4
    casual mind slip
    Join Date
    Jun 2005
    Location
    Lawrence, KS
    Posts
    1,811

    Default

    Not really a poetry person, but this one was sad.

    The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

    Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
    he wrote a poem
    And he called it "Chops"
    because that was the name of his dog
    And that's what it was all about
    And his teacher gave him an A
    and a gold star
    And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
    and read it to his aunts
    That was the year Father Tracy
    took all the kids to the zoo
    And he let them sing on the bus
    And his little sister was born
    with tiny toenails and no hair
    And his mother and father kissed a lot
    And the girl around the corner sent him a
    Valentine signed with a row of X's
    and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
    And his father always tucked him in bed at night
    And was always there to do it

    Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
    he wrote a poem
    And he called it "Autumn"
    because that was the name of the season
    And that's what it was all about
    And his teacher gave him an A
    and asked him to write more clearly
    And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
    because of its new paint
    And the kids told him
    that Father Tracy smoked cigars
    And left butts on the pews
    And sometimes they would burn holes
    That was the year his sister got glasses
    with thick lenses and black frames
    And the girl around the corner laughed
    when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
    And the kids told him why
    his mother and father kissed a lot
    And his father never tucked him in bed at night
    And his father got mad
    when he cried for him to do it.

    Once on a paper torn from his notebook
    he wrote a poem
    And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
    because that was the question about his girl
    And that's what it was all about
    And his professor gave him an A
    and a strange steady look
    And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
    because he never showed her
    That was the year that Father Tracy died
    And he forgot how the end
    of the Apostle's Creed went
    And he caught his sister
    making out on the back porch
    And his mother and father never kissed
    or even talked
    And the girl around the corner
    wore too much makeup
    That made him cough when he kissed her
    but he kissed her anyway
    because that was the thing to do
    And at three a.m. he tucked himself into bed
    his father snoring soundly

    That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
    he tried another poem
    And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
    Because that's what it was really all about
    And he gave himself an A
    and a slash on each damned wrist
    And he hung it on the bathroom door
    because this time he didn't think
    he could reach the kitchen.

  5. #5
    ...you hot, salty nut! Recognized Member fire_of_avalon's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2003
    Posts
    17,442
    Blog Entries
    34
    Contributions
    • Former Cid's Knight

    Default

    The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S Eliot. You find something new and twisting every time you re-read it. Also, there's a poem the head lady of Governor's School read on our first day there talking about chickens that's really good. I just know it ends "And that's the chicken I want to be" or something.

    Also the one about the buzzsaw by Robert Frost is so weird and awesome.

    Signature by rubah. I think.

  6. #6
    RX Queen Recognized Member kikimm's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2004
    Location
    I'M ON A BOAT
    Posts
    7,241
    Contributions
    • Former Cid's Knight

    Default

    I think the only poetry I've ever liked is stuff from EoFFers.
    --Box Box Box Box

  7. #7

    Default

    The Walrus and The Carpenter
    by Lewis Carroll

    The sun was shining on the sea,
    Shining with all his might:
    He did his very best to make
    The billows smooth and bright--
    And this was odd, because it was
    The middle of the night.

    The moon was shining sulkily,
    Because she thought the sun
    Had got no business to be there
    After the day was done--
    "It's very rude of him," she said,
    "To come and spoil the fun!"

    The sea was wet as wet could be,
    The sands were dry as dry.
    You could not see a cloud, because
    No cloud was in the sky:
    No birds were flying overhead--
    There were no birds to fly.

    The Walrus and the Carpenter
    Were walking close at hand;
    They wept like anything to see
    Such quantities of sand:
    "If this were only cleared away,"
    They said, "it would be grand!"

    "If seven maids with seven mops
    Swept it for half a year.
    Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
    "That they could get it clear?"
    "I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
    And shed a bitter tear.

    "O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
    The Walrus did beseech.
    "A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
    Along the briny beach:
    We cannot do with more than four,
    To give a hand to each."

    The eldest Oyster looked at him,
    But never a word he said:
    The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
    And shook his heavy head--
    Meaning to say he did not choose
    To leave the oyster-bed.

    But four young Oysters hurried up,
    All eager for the treat:
    Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
    Their shoes were clean and neat--
    And this was odd, because, you know,
    They hadn't any feet.

    Four other Oysters followed them,
    And yet another four;
    And thick and fast they came at last,
    And more, and more, and more--
    All hopping through the frothy waves,
    And scrambling to the shore.

    The Walrus and the Carpenter
    Walked on a mile or so,
    And then they rested on a rock
    Conveniently low:
    And all the little Oysters stood
    And waited in a row.

    "The time has come," the Walrus said,
    "To talk of many things:
    Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
    Of cabbages--and kings--
    And why the sea is boiling hot--
    And whether pigs have wings."

    "But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
    "Before we have our chat;
    For some of us are out of breath,
    And all of us are fat!"
    "No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
    They thanked him much for that.

    "A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
    "Is what we chiefly need:
    Pepper and vinegar besides
    Are very good indeed--
    Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
    We can begin to feed."

    "But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
    Turning a little blue.
    "After such kindness, that would be
    A dismal thing to do!"
    "The night is fine," the Walrus said.
    "Do you admire the view?

    "It was so kind of you to come!
    And you are very nice!"
    The Carpenter said nothing but
    "Cut us another slice:
    I wish you were not quite so deaf--
    I've had to ask you twice!"

    "It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
    "To play them such a trick,
    After we've brought them out so far,
    And made them trot so quick!"
    The Carpenter said nothing but
    "The butter's spread too thick!"

    "I weep for you," the Walrus said:
    "I deeply sympathize."
    With sobs and tears he sorted out
    Those of the largest size,
    Holding his pocket-handkerchief
    Before his streaming eyes.

    "O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
    "You've had a pleasant run!
    Shall we be trotting home again?'
    But answer came there none--
    And this was scarcely odd, because
    They'd eaten every one.

    of all poems, this one stuck out to me [for some reason]. it's the only poem from like junior high or high school that i retraced from the internet.

  8. #8
    The King's Shield The Summoner of Leviathan's Avatar
    Join Date
    Nov 2004
    Location
    Insomnia
    Posts
    7,730

    FFXIV Character

    Patroclus Menoetius (Sargatanas)


  9. #9
    ...you hot, salty nut! Recognized Member fire_of_avalon's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2003
    Posts
    17,442
    Blog Entries
    34
    Contributions
    • Former Cid's Knight

    Default

    A friend of mine loves Desiderata.

    Signature by rubah. I think.

  10. #10

    Default

    Pretty much anything by Robert Frost.

    The one Foa mentioned:

    'OUT, OUT--'
    The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
    And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
    Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
    And from there those that lifted eyes could count
    Five mountain ranges one behind the other
    Under the sunset far into Vermont.
    And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
    As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
    And nothing happened: day was all but done.
    Call it a day, I wish they might have said
    To please the boy by giving him the half hour
    That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
    His sister stood beside them in her apron
    To tell them 'Supper'. At the word, the saw,
    As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
    Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap--
    He must have given the hand. However it was,
    Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
    The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh.
    As he swung toward them holding up the hand
    Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
    The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all--
    Since he was old enough to know, big boy
    Doing a man's work, though a child at heart--
    He saw all spoiled. 'Don't let him cut my hand off
    The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!'
    So. But the hand was gone already.
    The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
    He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
    And then -- the watcher at his pulse took fright.
    No one believed. They listened at his heart.
    Little -- less -- nothing! -- and that ended it.
    No more to build on there. And they, since they
    Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.

    Also, I rather like this one:

    A cup of wine, under the flowering trees;
    I drink alone, for no friend is near.
    Raising my cup I beckon the bright moon,
    For he, with my shadow, will make three men.
    The moon, alas, is no drinker of wine;
    Listless, my shadow creeps about at my side.
    Yet with the moon as friend and the shadow as slave
    I must make merry before the Spring is spent.
    To the songs I sing the moon flickers her beams;
    In the dance I weave my shadow tangles and breaks.
    While we were sober, three shared the fun;
    Now we are drunk, each goes his way.
    May we long share our odd, inanimate feast,
    And meet at last on the Cloudy River of the sky

    Li Po for the win.
    Last edited by Jebus; 12-04-2005 at 06:54 AM.
    lol signature

  11. #11
    absolutely haram Recognized Member Madame Adequate's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2005
    Location
    Kirkwall
    Posts
    23,357

    FFXIV Character

    Hiero Dule (Brynhildr)
    Contributions
    • Former Cid's Knight

    Default

    The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock is indeed a great poem.

    But this one is probably my favorite ever:

    To His Coy Mistress - Andrew Marvell

    Had we but world enough, and time,
    This coyness, Lady, were no crime
    We would sit down and think which way
    To walk and pass our long love's day.
    Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
    Should'st rubies fine: I by the tide
    Of Humber would complain. I would
    Love you ten years before the Flood,
    And you should, if you please, refuse
    Till the conversion of the Jews.
    My vegetable love should grow
    Vaster than empires, and more slow.
    An hundred years should go to praise
    Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
    Two hundred to adore each breast,
    But thirty thousand to the rest.
    An age at last to every part,
    And the last age should show your heart.
    For, Lady, you deserve this state,
    Nor would I love at lower rate.
    But at my back I always hear
    Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;
    And yonder all before us lie
    Deserts of vast eternity.
    Thy beauty shall no more be found,
    Nor, in my marble vault, shall sound
    My echoing song: then worms shall try
    That long preserved virginity,
    And your quaint honour turn to dust,
    And into ashes all my lust.
    The grave's a fine and private place,
    But none, I think, do there embrace.
    Now therefore, while the youthful hue
    Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
    And while thy willing soul transpires
    At every pore with instant fires,
    Now let us sport us while we may,
    And now, like amorous birds of prey,
    Rather at once our time devour
    Than languish in his slow-chapt power.
    Let us roll all our strength and all
    Our sweetness up into one ball,
    And tear our pleasures with rough strife
    Through the iron gates of life:
    Thus, though we cannot make our sun
    Stand still, yet we will make him run.

  12. #12
    Mr. Encyclopedia Kirobaito's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2001
    Location
    Seattle, WA
    Posts
    6,359

    Default

    <i>The Box</i> - Lascelles

    Once upon a time in the land of Hushabye
    Round about the wondrous days of yore
    They came across a sort of box
    Bound up with chains and locked with locks
    And labeled
    "Kindly do not touch, it's war"

    A decree was issued round about
    All with a flourish and a shout
    And gayly colored mascots
    Tripping lightly on before
    Don't fiddle with this deadly box
    Or break its chains, or pick its locks
    And please don't ever play about with war

    Well the children understood
    Children happen to be good
    And just as good around the days of yore
    They didn't try to pick the locks
    Or break into the deadly box
    They never tried to play about with war

    Mommies didn't either
    Sisters, aunts or grannies neither
    Because they were sweet
    And quiet and gentle
    In those wondrous days of yore
    Just as much the same as now
    They aren't the ones to blame somehow
    For opening up that deadly box of war

    But someone did

    Someone battered in the lid
    And spilled the insides out across the floor
    A sort of bouncy bumpy ball
    Made up of flags and guns and all
    With the cheers and the horrors
    And the death that go with war

    Well it bounced right out
    And went bashing all about
    And bumping into everything in store
    And what was said most unfair
    Was that it didn't really seem to care much
    Who it bumped, or what or why or for

    It bumped the children mainly
    And I tell you this quite plainly
    It bumps them every day
    And more and more
    And leaves them dead and burnt and dying
    Cause when it bumps it's very very sore
    There is a way to stop this ball
    It isn't very hard at all
    All you need is wisdom and I'm absolutely sure
    We could get it back into the box
    And bind the chains and lock the locks
    But no one seems
    To want to save the children anymore

    Well that's the way it all appears
    It's been bouncing round for years and years
    In spite of all the wisdom wizzed
    Since those wond'rous days of yore
    And the time they came across
    The box bound up with chains and locked with locks
    And labeled "Kindly do not touch, it's WAR"

  13. #13
    ZeZipster's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2002
    Location
    act or process of locating (lo-kashon)
    Posts
    2,303

    Default

    Here is
    a test to find
    whether your mission earth
    is finished:
    If you're alive,
    it isn't
    - Richard Bach, Illusions

    Argue
    for your limitations
    and sure enough,
    they're
    yours

    - Richard Bach, Illusions

  14. #14
    A World Unseen Rusty's Avatar
    Join Date
    Apr 2004
    Location
    Australia
    Posts
    2,891

    Default

    Here dead we lie
    Because we did not choose
    To live and shame the land
    From which we sprung.

    Life, to be sure,
    Is nothing much to lose,
    But young men think it is,
    And we were young.

    - Here Dead We Lie by A.E Housman.

  15. #15

    Default

    These are good:

    <B>Irish Patterns in Ink</B>

    it cut down flowers
    and hid the silver
    of her dancing star

    as longing unfulfilled
    grew blue out of her
    and wept in shadow -

    loved on paper -
    that which loved
    the tearing wound

    -Dorothy D. Mienko

    ---

    <B>God's Gift</B>

    isn't life,
    it's the last
    string of fireflies
    plugged into your mind.

    -Bren

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •