What are your favorite poems?

Question

Post one, please.

Answer 1

There are so many so many poems I love TD...infact the life is all about poetry...everything I read, I love...I love to read everything.

here is one that's a favourite of mine.

Fear No More (From Cymbeline by Shakespeare)

Fear no more the heat o' the sun;

Nor the furious winter's rages,

Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;

Golden lads and girls all must,

As chimney sweepers come to dust.

Fear no more the frown of the great,

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:

Care no more to clothe and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:

The sceptre, learning, physic, must

All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,

Nor the all-dread thunder-stone;

Fear not slander, censure rash;

Thou hast finished joy and moan;

All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!

Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

Nothing ill come near thee!

Quiet consummation have;

And renowned be thy grave!  

Answer 2

now, if you were teaching creative

writing, he asked, what would you

tell them?

I'd tell them to have an unhappy love

affair, hemorrhoids, bad teeth

and to drink cheap wine,

to keep switching the head of their

bed from wall to wall

and then I'd tell them to have

another unhappy love affair

and never to use a silk typewriter

ribbon,

avoid family picnics

or being photographed in a rose

garden;

read Hemingway only once,

skip Faulkner

ignore Gogol

stare at photos of Gertrude Stein

and read Sherwood Anderson in bed

while eating Ritz crackers,

realize that people who keep

talking about sexual liberation

are more frightened than you are.

listen to E. Power Biggs work the

organ on your radio while you're

rolling Bull Durham in the dark

in a strange town

with one day left on the rent

after having given up

friends, relatives and jobs.

never consider yourself superior and /

or fair

and never try to be.

have another unhappy love affair.

watch a fly on a summer curtain.

never try to succeed.

don't shoot pool.

be righteously angry when you

find your car has a flat tire.

take vitamins but don't lift weights or jog.

then after all this

reverse the procedure.

have a good love affair.

and the thing

you might learn

is that nobody knows anything--

not the State, nor the mice

the garden hose or the North Star.

and if you ever catch me

teaching a creative writing class

and you read this back to me

I'll give you a straight A

right up the pickle

barrel.

Answer 3

"The Ballad of Reading Gaol" by Oscar Wilde. I won't post it here, it's very long and easy to find online.

Answer 4

The More Loving One    

by W. H. Auden  

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMI...

The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost

http://www.bartleby.com/119/1.html

Answer 5

i've always loved the one where it's like "Quoth the raven, nevermore" It's my dads fault for reading it to me loads when i was younger.

Answer 6

Pablo Neruda--Cien Sonetos de Amor XVII

Elizabeth Bishop--Filling Station

    I guess I'm a sucker for love . . .

Answer 7

All my favorite poems are written by Martians.

Answer 8

"The House Was Quiet and the World Was Calm," by Wallace Stevens.

http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels...

Answer 9

"Leda and the Swan" by William Butler Yeats

A sudden blow: the great wings beating still

Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed

By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,

He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.

How can those terrified vague fingers push

The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?

And how can body, laid in that white rush,

But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?

A shudder in the loins engenders there

The broken wall, the burning roof and tower

And Agamemnon dead.

                                      Being so caught up,

Did she put on his knowledge with his power

Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?

Answer 10

luck of the draw i get to answer after this lano woodknot again.

i like the Shel Silverstein writings, and

Evadne Terra wrote a long series awhile back. i liked that alot.

that wont copy too well in here.

im terrible at picking favorites..its hard.

and i dont have any poet books..pathetic.

Answer 11

Ooh, I'm going to have fun reading through all these! As you too, no doubt. Don't think you're fooling anyone....

Dulce et Decorum Est - Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks

Knock kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs

And toward our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. many had lost their boots.

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of disappointed shells that fell behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick boys! --An ecstasy of fumbling;

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone stillwas yelling out and stumbling

And floundering like a man in fire or lime - -

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old lLe: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

Also 'Forgotten Sons' by Marillion

'Foreign Affair' & 'Small Change' both by Tom Waits

Proverbs of h**l by William Blake

These are just some....

Answer 12

poems with touch of nature ,world peace and love

Answer 13

None of yours, that's for sure.

As for egomaniacs, they're usually control freaks as well. Like giving people ultimatums and manipulating their bahaviour. Such as "Elaine, don't you have anything to do with him or you're off the book."

And thus I leave you to your own little world and tiny mind.

Answer 14

DARKNESS

by: George Gordon (Lord) Byron (1788-1824)

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.

The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars

Did wander darkling in the eternal space,

Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth

Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;

Morn came and went--and came, and brought no day,

And men forgot their passions in the dread

Of this their desolation; and all hearts

Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:

And they did live by watchfires--and the thrones,

The palaces of crowned kings--the huts,

The habitations of all things which dwell,

Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum'd,

And men were gather'd round their blazing homes

To look once more into each other's face;

Happy were those who dwelt within the eye

Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:

A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;

Forests were set on fire--but hour by hour

They fell and faded--and the crackling trunks

Extinguish'd with a crash--and all was black.

The brows of men by the despairing light

Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits

The flashes fell upon them; some lay down

And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest

Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd;

And others hurried to and fro, and fed

Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up

With mad disquietude on the dull sky,

The pall of a past world; and then again

With curses cast them down upon the dust,

And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd

And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,

And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes

Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl'd

And twin'd themselves among the multitude,

Hissing, but stingless--they were slain for food.

And War, which for a moment was no more,

Did glut himself again: a meal was bought

With blood, and each sate sullenly apart

Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;

All earth was but one thought--and that was death

Immediate and inglorious; and the pang

Of famine fed upon all entrails--men

Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;

The meagre by the meagre were devour'd,

Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,

And he was faithful to a corse, and kept

The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,

Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead

Lur'd their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,

But with a piteous and perpetual moan,

And a quick desolate cry, l*****g the hand

Which answer'd not with a caress--he died.

The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two

Of an enormous city did survive,

And they were enemies: they met beside

The dying embers of an altar-place

Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things

For an unholy usage; they rak'd up,

And shivering scrap'd with their cold skeleton hands

The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath

Blew for a little life, and made a flame

Which was a mockery; then they lifted up

Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld

Each other's aspects--saw, and shriek'd, and died--

Even of their mutual hideousness they died,

Unknowing who he was upon whose brow

Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,

The populous and the powerful was a lump,

Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless--

A lump of death--a chaos of hard clay.

The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,

And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths;

Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,

And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd

They slept on the abyss without a surge--

The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,

The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before;

The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,

And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need

Of aid from them--She was the Universe.

Answer 15

flying toasters mmmmmmm

Answer 16

"Mattina" ( in english " Morning") by Giuseppe Ungaretti:

M'illumino

d'immenso

translated:

I light up

from the immense

Answer 17

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner  

Answer 18

Some of my favorite poems are Petrarchian sonnets, written in English and French. Also many of the poems in Baudelaire's "Les Fleurs du Mal," tanslated literally into "Flowers of Evil." I also like compilations of contemporary poetry and poetry about animals, such as those found in a recently published book titled "Pavlov's Cat."

Here is one of my favorite animal poems from Pavlov's Cat:

Lines of Demarcation

by TD Euwaite

Black Mud Dauber glides in the breezless air

In and out through a hole in the screen I never patched

Between the windows, he builds his adobe hacienda

And now there are two busy do-it-yourselfers

The long brown hollow slowly turns gray

As the mud dries and solidifies their lair

I respect the claim they have made

I regard the stinger they brandish

Next spring, I will clean away the abandoned nest

For now, live and let live in peaceful coexistence