Favorite Poem?

Tonight I can write the saddest lines

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before. Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her.

-Pablo Neruda

I will confess With cheerfulness, Love is a thing so likes me, That, let her lay On me all day, I'll kiss the hand that strikes me.I will not, I, Now blubb'ring cry, It, ah! too late repents me That I did fall To love at all-- Since love so much contents me.No, no, I'll be In fetters free; While others they sit wringing Their hands for pain, I'll entertain The wounds of love with singing.With flowers and wine, And cakes divine, To strike me I will tempt thee; Which done, no more I'll come before Thee and thine altars empty.-He was a total perv haha

Typically, I find rhyming poems to be cliche and lame, but I came across one on tumblr that I really liked. This goes out to all the transgender or genderless friends I have in my life and to anyone else. I really love this:A woman is a woman regardless of sex A man is a man in the same respects You can be both or a mix of the two Or you can be neither if that's what suits you But people are people, whatever their parts Because what really matters is inside of our hearts

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so, For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow, Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee, Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee doe goe, Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie. Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell, And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well, And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then; One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally, And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.(It seems more grim looking back on it! We read it in English class)

This is just a portion of the poem but in my eyes it is the best part: "It is easy enough to be pleasant, When life flows by like a song, But the man worth while is one who will smile, When everything goes dead wrong. For the test of the heart is trouble, And it always comes with the years, And the smile that is worth the praises of earth Is the smile that shines through tears. "

The Big Kids:My friends and I started the first day of kindergartenwith sweaty palms and runs in our tightsand Dillon got bashful when he saw me get on the busand hid his head in the seat.Michelle and I played dress up for hours in her mother's closettalking about what it would be like to act likethe big kids.My friends and I started the first day of middle schoolwith sweaty palms and new jeansand Dillon and I kissed under the jungle gym last yearbut he liked another girl more than me.And Michelle kissed all of her big brother's friendsand tried to be just likethe big kids.My friends and I started the first day of high schoolwith sweaty palms and big text booksand Dillon has been dating Hannah for two monthsand gives me looks in the hallway.It seems Michelle has been playing dress up in her mother'scloset againand all the boys look at her and she loves it.And it seems like no one will take you seriously unlessyou're a big kid.My friends and I said goodbye the last day of Senior Yearwith fond memories and our graduation capsand Dillon took his own life last yearbecause Hannah forgot they were datingfor a night.And Michelle stays home mostly nowbecause her baby needs her more then she need her degreeand it scares me nowbecause we arethe big kids.

somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands - E. E. Cummings