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  #41  
Old 22.08.2008, 22:35
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Re: Your Favourite Poems

Cool and inspiring! I can just visualise Maya reading this.

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I just finished reading Maya Angelou`s book, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, which was excellent. Here is my favorite poem by her and probably one of my all-time favorites.

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Maya Angelou
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  #42  
Old 22.08.2008, 22:49
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Re: Your Favourite Poems

I get chills every time I read it!! Phenomenal Woman rocks!

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Cool and inspiring! I can just visualise Maya reading this.
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  #43  
Old 28.08.2008, 23:08
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Re: Your Favourite Poems

Just because of the mood I'm in right now;

People

I like people quite well
at a little distance.
I like to see them passing and passing
and going their own way,
especially if I see their aloneness alive in them.
Yet I don't want them to come near.
If they will only leave me alone
I can still have the illusion that there is room enough in the
world.

D.H.Lawrence

Enjoyed all the other posted poems, I sometimes forget and when I get back to reading the various collections available, well,,, they just give me that "top-up" that can be lacking in life sometimes....

Ros
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  #44  
Old 28.11.2009, 09:01
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Do you have a favourite poem?

Well? What is it?
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  #45  
Old 28.11.2009, 09:01
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

Cloths of Heaven
William Butler Yeats

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
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  #46  
Old 28.11.2009, 10:46
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

Darkness

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 consumed,
And men were gathered 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 smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked 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 twined 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 devoured,
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
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answered 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 raked up,
And shivering scraped 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 stirred 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 withered in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them--She was the Universe.


Lord Byron
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  #47  
Old 28.11.2009, 15:50
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

Definitely Sylvia Plath's "Daddy":

You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time---
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off the beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene

An engine, an engine,
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been sacred of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You----

Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.

If I've killed one man, I've killed two---
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you b@st@rd, I'm through.
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  #48  
Old 28.11.2009, 15:58
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

Probably a well known choice but one that I have been able to apply to so many situations. For the travelers among us...

Robert Frost "Road not taken"

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.
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  #49  
Old 28.11.2009, 16:25
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

Don't anyone dare quote "If"
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  #50  
Old 28.11.2009, 17:01
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

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Don't anyone dare quote "If"
Yeah, fancy the uncultured masses being able to enjoy poetry, too!

The thought of it!
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  #51  
Old 28.11.2009, 17:31
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

Doctor O'Dell
Fell down a well,
And broke his collar bone.
But doctors should attend the sick
And leave the well alone.
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  #52  
Old 20.12.2009, 01:12
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

My favourite:

Some people are like ships in the night:
came, and shipped silently away
others´ touched your soul
and you´re never the same again.
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  #53  
Old 20.12.2009, 01:24
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps, you will then gradually without noticing it live along some distant day into the answer. Perhaps you do carry within yourself the possibility of shaping and forming as a particularly happy and sure way of living.

Train yourself to it – but take whatever comes out of your being, out of your own will, out of some need of your inmost being; take it upon yourself and hate nothing.

R.M. Rilke, taken from Letters to a Young Poet
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  #54  
Old 20.12.2009, 01:31
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

I wouldn't say this is my most favourite poem, but it's gotten stuck in my head and I can't get it out:

The Second Coming

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. Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?



---William Butler Keats
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  #55  
Old 20.12.2009, 01:35
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

In life devote yourself to joy and love
Behold the beauty of the peaceful dove
Those who live, in the end must all perish
Live as if you are already in heavens above.

Khayyam

Last edited by Macchiato; 20.12.2009 at 01:47.
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  #56  
Old 20.12.2009, 01:51
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

I love "La Venoge" by Jean Villard Gilles. It is a very humorous hymn to an unknown little river in Canton Vaud.
There was an English translation floating on the internet but I cannot find it anymore.
Jacques Brel was very much inspired by Jean Villard Gilles.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Venoge_(poem)
http://www.lavenoge.net/poeme_2.htm
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  #57  
Old 20.12.2009, 01:52
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

Pablo Neruda's Poem 20 out of 20 poemas de amor y una cancion desesperada

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Escribir, por ejemplo : 'La noche está estrellada,
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos'.
El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.
En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos.
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.
Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.
Oir la noche immensa, más inmensa sin ella.
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.
Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.
La noche está estrellada y ella no está conmigo.
Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.
Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.
Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.
La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos arboles.
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.
Ya no la quiero, es cierto pero cuánto la quise.
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.
De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.
Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.
Es tan corto al amor, y es tan largo el olvido.
Porque en noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos,
mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.
Aunque ésta sea el último dolor que ella me causa,
y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.

English Translation: http://www.westal.net/hp/mint/poems/puedo.htm
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  #58  
Old 20.12.2009, 02:24
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

By Robert Frost

[u]Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening[/b]

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

----------------------

For those who like poetry, join the Poetry club meeting in Morge once a month
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  #59  
Old 20.12.2009, 02:41
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

Along These Lines

And so you cry for her, and the poem falls to the page
As if it knew all along that what we make of ourselves we take
From one another's hearts - tearing and shouting until we learn
How awkwardly, upstairs and behind shut doors we are born
Already owing interest on what we have borrowed from the world

Hugo Williams
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  #60  
Old 20.12.2009, 04:18
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Re: Have you got a favourite poem?

When Beethoven wrote his final symphony, he sought to immortalize a poem that swept through Europe and captured the imagination of many idealists like himself. He succeeded---only too well. Now there are many classical music fans who erroneously think Beethoven himself wrote the poem rather than Friedrich Schiller. Worse, although you can buy copies of Beethoven's Ninth on-line or in any music store all over the world, outside of German-speaking countries you are unlikely to find translated books of Schiller's poetry in any English bookstore.

Still worse, there are people who think that if music is beautiful enough, the meaning of the lyrics is irrelevant. A classic example was during the opening ceremonies of the 1992 Albertville Olympics when a little girl sung "The Marseillasie" at the beginning. The American network didn't bother to run subtitles during the anthem, and most Americans sighed and thought it was just lovely. French viewers however, who knew very well what the lyrics to that anthem meant were outraged to hear a little girl sing about drenching the fields with the enemy's blood. A debate enused on whether the anthem should be changed.

The point is that there are people who listen to Beethoven's Ninth and don't bother to read a translation of the lyrics to "Ode To Joy" because they think it's irrelevant. I disagree. So I am now presentlng to you, the entire poem of Schiller's Ode To Joy.

http://www.schillerinstitute.org/tra...ode%20to%20joy

http://www.raptusassociation.org/ode1785.html
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