JoeVI said 7 years, 4 months ago:

So what’s your favorite poem? How about favorite poem?

Deleted User said 7 years, 4 months ago:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost

(◣_◢)Poet said 7 years, 4 months ago:

The Night Has a Thousand Eyes

Francis William Bourdillon (b. 1852)

THE NIGHT has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes, 5
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.

Deleted User said 7 years, 4 months ago:

The Little Orphan AnniebyJames Whitcomb Riley

Little Orphan Annie’s come to my house to stay.
To wash the cups and saucers up and brush the crumbs away. 
To shoo the chickens from the porch and dust the hearth and sweep,and make the fire and bake the bread to earn her board and keep. 
While all us other children, when the supper things is done, 
we sit around the kitchen fire and has the mostest fun,
a listening to the witch tales that Annie tells about..

and the goblins will get ya if ya don’t watch out!

Once there was a little boy who wouldn’t say his prayers,
and when he went to bed at night away up stairs, 
his mammy heard him holler and his daddy heard him bawl, 
and when they turned the covers down, he wasn’t there at all! 
They searched him in the attic room and cubby hole and press 
and even up the chimney flu and every wheres, I guess,
but all they ever found of him was just his pants and round-abouts..

and the goblins will get ya if ya don’t watch out!!

Once there was a little girl who always laughed and grinned
and made fun of everyone, of all her blood and kin,
and once when there was company and old folks was there,
she mocked them and she shocked them and said, she didn’t care.And just as she turned on her heels and to go and run and hide, 
there was two great big black things a standing by her side. 
They snatched her through the ceiling fore she knew what shes about,
and the goblins will get ya if ya don’t watch out!!

When the night is dark and scary, and the moon is full
and creatures are a flying and the wind goes Whoooooooooo, 
you better mind your parents and your teachers fond and dear, 
and cherish them that loves ya, and dry the orphans tears 
and help the poor and needy ones that cluster all about, 

or the goblins will get ya if ya don’t watch out!!!

Swifting said 7 years, 4 months ago:

I Carry Your Heart with Me
by E. E. Cummings

I carry your heart with me
(I carry it in my heart)

I am never without it
(anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)

I fear no fate
(for you are my fate,my sweet)

I want no world
(for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart
(I carry it in my heart)

I love this poem for two voices. It’s used a lot now. But, I still love it just the same and if that makes it a cliche then I don’t care.

Diana said 7 years, 4 months ago:

It’s very difficult for me to pick only one favorite poem. My favorite poet though is Nichita Stanescu, a Romanian poet. Here’s a poem by him that I enjoy:

Young lioness, love

Young lioness, love
Leaped in front of me.
It’s ambushed me in a tense wait, for long.
Its white fangs sunk into my face,
It bit me, love, today.

And suddenly, around me, the nature
became a circle, rolling,
Wider, closer,
Water throttling.

And the eye sight sprung high up!
Rainbow doubled, cut in half,
And my hearing went to join her
Right up there, near skylarks.

I brought my hand
To eyebrow, temple, chin,
But hand no longer knows them.
It wanders in abandon, hovers
Above a shiny desert, where
A bronze lioness slinks
Her sly moves
Some more,
A bit more.

someone said 7 years, 4 months ago:

Never Give All The Heart
by: William Butler Yeats

Never give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women if it seem
Certain, and they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that’s lovely is
But a brief, dreamy. Kind delight.
O never give the heart outright,
For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.

ravenclaw said 7 years, 4 months ago:

Edgar Allan Poe, Billy Collins, E.E. Cummings, Lewis Carroll (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson), and that guy that always calls himself Anonymous.

Resa said 7 years, 3 months ago:

I don’t really have a favorite poet, but “Annabel Lee” by Poe is one of my favorites. I’ll also show you guys one of my favorite sonnets.

Sonnet 75 by Edmund Spenser
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
Vain man, said she, that doest in vain assay
A mortal thing so to immortalize,
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eek my name be wiped out likewise.
Not so (quoth I), let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write your glorious name.
Where whenas Death shall all the world subdue,
Out love shall live, and later life renew.

The language is pretty old-timey, but I think it’s cute.

Deleted User said 7 years, 3 months ago:

anon makes the best stuff, so true:D

Swifting said 7 years, 3 months ago:

@Resa – LOVE the Annabel Lee!

Deleted User said 7 years, 3 months ago:

OK, so I’m not a poetry aficionado but I love this one.

The Guy in the Glass by Dale Wimbrow, (c)1934

When you get what you want in your struggle for pelf,
And the world makes you King for a day,
Then go to the mirror and look at yourself,
And see what that guy has to say.

For it isn’t your Father, or Mother, or Wife,
Who judgement upon you must pass.
The feller whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the guy staring back from the glass.

He’s the feller to please, never mind all the rest,
For he’s with you clear up to the end,
And you’ve passed your most dangerous, difficult test
If the guy in the glass is your friend.

You may be like Jack Horner and “chisel” a plum,
And think you’re a wonderful guy,
But the man in the glass says you’re only a bum
If you can’t look him straight in the eye.

You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years,
And get pats on the back as you pass,
But your final reward will be heartaches and tears
If you’ve cheated the guy in the glass.

Odd One said 7 years, 3 months ago:

I like this poem by shakespeare

All the World’s a Stage

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

AjaxMarie said 7 years, 3 months ago:

“Sleep” by Charles Anthony Silvestri

The evening hangs beneath the moon
A silver thread on darkened dune
With closing eyes and resting head
I know that sleep is coming soon

Upon my pillow, safe in bed
A thousand pictures fill my head
I cannot sleep, my mind’s a-flight
And yet my limbs seem made of lead

If there are noises in the night
A frightening shadow, flickering light
Then I surrender unto sleep
Where clouds of dream give second sight

What dreams may come, both dark and deep
Of flying wings and soaring leap
As I surrender unto sleep,
As I surrender unto sleep.

AjaxMarie said 7 years, 3 months ago:

anyone lived in a pretty howtown by e.e.cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn’t he danced his did.

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone’s any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hoe and then)they
said their nevers and they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt for forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain
– e e cummings