Favourite Poems

    • Favourite Poems

      This started out as just me posting a poem on Valentine’s Day. Now I’ve decided to turn this thread into somewhere where I and others can post their favourite poems.



      Valentine
      by Carol Ann Duffy



      Not a red rose or a satin heart.

      I give you an onion.
      It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
      It promises light
      like the careful undressing of love.

      Here.
      It will blind you with tears
      like a lover.
      It will make your reflection
      a wobbling photo of grief.

      I am trying to be truthful.

      Not a cute card or a kissogram.

      I give you an onion.
      Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
      possessive and faithful
      as we are,
      for as long as we are.

      Take it.
      Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring,
      if you like.
      Lethal.
      Its scent will cling to your fingers,
      cling to your knife.

    • Like I said above, I’ve decided to turn this thread into somewhere where from time to time I might post a poem I like. If anyone else wants to post one of their favourites, whatever it is, serious or funny, long or short, old or new, please feel free to. You don’t have to say why you like it or what it means to you - just post it.



      This is “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou.


      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 backyard.

      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.

    • I don't care much for modern poets. I prefer to read the poems of 19th. century English poets such as Coleridge, Kears, Byron and some others. Also I like the poem "The Lorelei" by Heine, in English, as I can't read it in German.

      I also like Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales" in the original middle English which I can read. My favorite tales are, "The Miller's Take", "The Wife Of Bath's Tale." and "The Knight's Tale".
      Vivimus Volare, Volamus Vivere,

    • D. Falcon_11 wrote:

      I don't care much for modern poets. I prefer to read the poems of 19th. century English poets such as Coleridge, Kears, Byron and some others. Also I like the poem "The Lorelei" by Heine, in English, as I can't read it in German.

      I also like Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales" in the original middle English which I can read. My favorite tales are, "The Miller's Take", "The Wife Of Bath's Tale." and "The Knight's Tale".
      Older poets are great too. Feel free to share some if you want to.

    • HannahW wrote:

      D. Falcon_11 wrote:

      I don't care much for modern poets. I prefer to read the poems of 19th. century English poets such as Coleridge, Kears, Byron and some others. Also I like the poem "The Lorelei" by Heine, in English, as I can't read it in German.

      I also like Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales" in the original middle English which I can read. My favorite tales are, "The Miller's Take", "The Wife Of Bath's Tale." and "The Knight's Tale".
      Older poets are great too. Feel free to share some if you want to.
      One of my favorite Romantic poet is Percy Shelley. I particularly enjoy his sonnet "Ozymandias", which I quote below"

      I met a traveler from an antique land
      Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
      Stand in the desert
      Near them, on the sand,
      Half sunk, shattered visage lies, whose brown,
      And wrinkled lip, and sneer, of cold command,
      Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
      Which yet survive, stamped these lifeless things,
      The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
      And on the pedestal these words appear"
      MY NAME IS OZYMANDIAS, KING OF KINGS:
      LOOK ON MY WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR!
      Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
      Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
      The lone and level sands stretch far away.

      This is a political poem written in 1817. It was aimed at the tyrants and despots in that time. Shelley was the most radical of the romantic poets. His views can be seen is many of his poetry. I like this sonnet because his view of the European political scene of his era could be applied to what we see today in world politics.. Anyone, please feel free to comment.
      Vivimus Volare, Volamus Vivere,

    • D. Falcon_11 wrote:

      One of my favorite Romantic poet is Percy Shelley. I particularly enjoy his sonnet "Ozymandias", which I quote below"
      I met a traveler from an antique land
      Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
      Stand in the desert
      Near them, on the sand,
      Half sunk, shattered visage lies, whose brown,
      And wrinkled lip, and sneer, of cold command,
      Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
      Which yet survive, stamped these lifeless things,
      The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
      And on the pedestal these words appear"
      MY NAME IS OZYMANDIAS, KING OF KINGS:
      LOOK ON MY WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR!
      Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
      Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
      The lone and level sands stretch far away.

      This is a political poem written in 1817. It was aimed at the tyrants and despots in that time. Shelley was the most radical of the romantic poets. His views can be seen is many of his poetry. I like this sonnet because his view of the European political scene of his era could be applied to what we see today in world politics.. Anyone, please feel free to comment.

      I have Wikipedia to thank for this, but apparently one of the episodes of season 5 of ‘Breaking Bad’ is titled ‘Ozymandias’, alluding to the collapse of main character Walter White's drug empire.

      I didn’t know this poem before but I like it. Thanks for posting it.

    • Walking home from college today, seeing the daffodils in the park, I thought of this. A poem that isn’t just about daffodils but about how the memories of pleasant moments can bring happiness when we are feeling down.


      Daffodils
      by William Wordsworth

      I wandered lonely as a cloud
      That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
      When all at once I saw a crowd,
      A host, of golden daffodils;
      Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
      Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

      Continuous as the stars that shine
      And twinkle on the milky way,
      They stretched in never-ending line
      Along the margin of a bay:
      Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
      Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

      The waves beside them danced; but they
      Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
      A poet could not but be gay,
      In such a jocund company:
      I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
      What wealth the show to me had brought:

      For oft, when on my couch I lie
      In vacant or in pensive mood,
      They flash upon that inward eye
      Which is the bliss of solitude;
      And then my heart with pleasure fills,
      And dances with the daffodils.

    • Because it's 'Oranges and Lemons Day' I'll share the nursery rhyme :thumbsup: about the church bells of London

      Display Spoiler
      Oranges and lemons,
      Say the bells of St. Clement's.

      You owe me five farthings,
      Say the bells of St. Martin's.

      When will you pay me?
      Say the bells at Old Bailey.

      When I grow rich,
      Say the bells at Shoreditch.

      When will that be?
      Say the bells of Stepney.

      I do not know,
      Says the great bell at Bow.

      Here comes a candle to light you to bed,
      And here comes a chopper to chop off your head!
      Chip chop chip chop the last man is dead



      Good Friend :play: Kinda Romantic :love: Ready to Rock :zomg:

      "If you try to follow fashion you'll always be chasing, and probably never catch it. If you be yourself and make your own style, fashion might just bump into you one day."

    • Than, Hannah, for quoting Wordsworth's poem "Daffodils". i think that it's one of Wordsworth's better poems.

      One of my favorite Wordsworth's poems is "THE TABLES TURNED".

      THE TABLES TURNED''

      Up! Up! my friend and quit your books,
      Or surely you'll grow double;
      Up! Up! my friend, and clear your looks;
      Why all the toil and trouble?

      That sun, above the mountain's head,
      A freshening luster mellow
      Through all the long green fields has spread,
      His first sweet evening yellow.

      Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife;
      Come, hear the woodlands linnet,
      How sweet his music! on my life,
      There's more of wisdom in it.

      And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
      He, too, is no means a preacher;
      Come forth into the light of things;
      Let nature be your teacher.

      She has a world of ready wealth,
      Our minds and hearts to bless;
      Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
      Truth breathed by cheerfulness.

      One impulse from a vernal wood
      May teach you more of man,
      Of moral evil and of good,
      Than all the sages can.

      Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
      Our meddling intellect
      Misshapes the beauteous forms of things;
      We murder to dissect.

      Enough of Science and of Art;
      Close up those barren leaves;
      Come forth, and bring with you a heart
      That watches and receives.

      William Wordsworth - 1798

      I particularly admire about this poem that Wordsworth is telling us that Nature is very important as much as education. This isn't a poem against reading books or the importance of education. He tells that leaning the laws of nature and appreciating them are just as important as getting an education. This poem is relevant today because all of us must work to preserve and protect our Earth from destruction by humankind.
      Vivimus Volare, Volamus Vivere,

    • As it’s National Poetry Day (thank you @BJade) …


      The Road Not Taken
      by Robert Frost

      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.


      A poem about choices, about the moments in life when we have to decide which way to go, and maybe about the need we have to believe we were brave and took ‘the road less traveled’, but did we really?

    • hopefully im reviving this thread! looking forward to more poems hehe i love poems!!

      here's a classic:



      Two-Headed Calf
      by Laura Gilpin

      Tomorrow when the farm boys find this
      freak of nature, they will wrap his body
      in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

      But tonight he is alive and in the north
      field with his mother. It is a perfect
      summer evening: the moon rising over
      the orchard, the wind in the grass. And
      as he stares into the sky, there are
      twice as many stars as usual.



      it follows a free verse style of poetry which i absolutely love!! super lovely imagery as well

    • another amazing poem! this ones about ... a lot of things . youll see



      Good Bones
      by Maggie Smith

      Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
      Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
      in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
      a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
      I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
      fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
      estimate, though I keep this from my children.
      For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
      For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
      sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
      is at least half terrible, and for every kind
      stranger, there is one who would break you,
      though I keep this from my children. I am trying
      to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
      walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
      about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
      right? You could make this place beautiful.



      as you can see i love free verse poetry LOL idk i just think that there's a lot more creative opportunity with not following a structure yk? its a poem about the tiniest good that is present in the world. about how there is at least a slight glimpse of hope that things could get better. "everything" sucks, yes, but that cant possibly be realistic and true! i think all we're trying to do is trying to see how the world can be a good place for us—but that's not enough.

    • This seemed appropriate for this morning …



      A Frosty Morning
      by Enid Blyton

      When the sun hangs low in the eastern sky,
      Caught in the trees that shiver and shy,
      Red as the robin that flits nearby,
      Sing hey, for a frosty morning!

      When the lane is a-glitter beneath our feet,
      Powered with crystal, delicate, sweet,
      And the quiet pond is a silver sheet,
      Sing hey, for a frosty morning!

      Come out, come out, while the sky is red,
      Over the crunching fields to tread,
      Ere the frost in the kindling sun lies dead,
      Sing, hey for a frosty morning!

    • @BJade I was going to post ‘Talking Turkeys’ but you beat me to it. It’s one of my favourite poems <3

      Instead I’ll post this one, “Luv Song” by Benjamin Zephaniah

      I am in luv wid a hedgehog
      I’ve never felt this way before
      I have luv fe dis hedgehog
      An everyday I luv her more an more,
      She lives by de shed
      Where weeds and roses bed
      An I just want de world to know
      She makes me glow.

      I am in luv wid a hedgehog
      She’s making me hair stand on edge,
      So in luv wid dis hedgehog
      An her friends
      Who all live in de hedge
      She visits me late
      An eats off Danny’s plate
      But Danny’s a cool tabby cat
      He leaves it at dat.

      I am in luv wid a hedgehog,
      She’s gone away so I must wait
      But I do miss my hedgehog
      Everytime she goes to hibernate.

    • One of my favorite English poets is Geoffrey Chaucer. His most famous work is "The Canterbury Tales". Chaucer is hailed as one of the greatest poet of his times only surpassed by William Shakespeare. He wrote "The Canterbury Tales" in the 14th. century and it endures today as a major work of English literature. It is written in what is called Middle English which is little heard or used today. The English language has evolved into another dialect which makes Middle English sound like a foreign tongue. I will quote from the Prologue to demonstrate this difference.

      "What that Aprill with his shoures soote
      The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
      And bathed every veyne in swich liquor
      Of which vertu engendredis the flour,
      Whan Zephirus eek with sweete breeth
      Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
      The tendre croppes, and the youge sonne
      Hath in the Ram his half y-ronne
      And smale fowelers maken melodye
      That slepen al the nyght with open eye,
      So peiketh hem Nature in hir corages.
      Than longen folk in goon on pilgrymagens."

      You can see that there are some words that are in usage today. If you are interested in the roots of the English language The Canterbury Tales are a good beginning.
      Vivimus Volare, Volamus Vivere,