Favorite poems/poets

[MissU28]

A few poems came up in the Random Thought Thread....

so I thought we could post a few of our favorites..

My favorite poet is Langston Hughes. I took an African American poetry class in college and really enjoyed it and was able to research him and his life.

But I also love Pablo Neruda...and I posted part of his poem "If You Forget Me" in the Random Thought Thread....but here it is in its entirety:

If You Forget Me

I want you to know

one thing.

You know how this is:

if I look

at the crystal moon, at the red branch

of the slow autumn at my window,

if I touch

near the fire

the impalpable ash

or the wrinkled body of the log,

everything carries me to you,

as if everything that exists,

aromas, light, metals,

were little boats

that sail

toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,

if little by little you stop loving me

I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly

you forget me

do not look for me,

for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,

the wind of banners

that passes through my life,

and you decide

to leave me at the shore

of the heart where I have roots,

remember

that on that day,

at that hour,

I shall lift my arms

and my roots will set off

to seek another land.

But

if each day,

each hour,

you feel that you are destined for me

with implacable sweetness,

if each day a flower

climbs up to your lips to seek me,

ah my love, ah my own,

in me all that fire is repeated,

in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,

my love feeds on your love, beloved,

and as long as you live it will be in your arms

without leaving mine.

Pablo Neruda

[Mickalino]

I actually write poetry myself......

I once met a girl named Robin.

I wrote a poem for her, til she started sobbin.

I said, "why do you cry, oh lady in burgundy & gold ?

She said your jokes and poems are getting old.

I said, "tis time I retire the ink and pen".

She agreed, and so did her buddy named "Ren"

So I began to express myself on an internet forum.

They said, "you're doing no better, your threads are boring."

[motorhead]

There was a thread about poems before however,I like it.

I have a 3x GF who has a poem in the Smithsonian Institution.

I'll tell you later.

Waitin', watchin' the clock, it's four o'clock, it's got to stop

Tell him, take no more, she practices her speech

As he opens the door, she rolls over...

Pretends to sleep, as he looks her over

She lies and says she's in love with him, can't find a better man...

She dreams in color, she dreams in red, can't find a better man...

Can't find a better man

Can't find a better man

Ohh...

Talkin' to herself, there's no one else who needs to know...

She tells herself, oh...

Memories back when she was bold and strong

And waiting for the world to come along...

Swears she knew it, now she swears he's gone

She lies and says she's in love with him, can't find a better man...

She dreams in color, she dreams in red, can't find a better man...

She lies and says she still loves him, can't find a better man...

She dreams in color, she dreams in red, can't find a better man...

Can't find a better man.

Can't find a better man

She loved him, yeah...she don't want to leave this way

She needs him, yeah...that's why she'll be back again

Can't find a better man (can't find a better man)

[MissU28]

uh....pearl jam?

[mbws]

Bob Dylan - The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll

William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll

With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger

At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin'.

And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him

As they rode him in custody down to the station

And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.

But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,

Take the rag away from your face.

Now ain't the time for your tears.

William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years

Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres

With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him

And high office relations in the politics of Maryland,

Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders

And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling,

In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking.

But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,

Take the rag away from your face.

Now ain't the time for your tears.

Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen.

She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children

Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage

And never sat once at the head of the table

And didn't even talk to the people at the table

Who just cleaned up all the food from the table

And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level,

Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane

That sailed through the air and came down through the room,

Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle.

And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger.

But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,

Take the rag away from your face.

Now ain't the time for your tears.

In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel

To show that all's equal and that the courts are on the level

And that the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded

And that even the nobles get properly handled

Once that the cops have chased after and caught 'em

And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom,

Stared at the person who killed for no reason

Who just happened to be feelin' that way without warnin'.

And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished,

And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance,

William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence.

Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,

Bury the rag deep in your face

For now's the time for your tears.

[mbws]

uh....pearl jam?

Yes. Songwriters are poets.

Songs are poems with melodies.

[motorhead]

uh....pearl jam?

Very nice.I love there words.

Isn't a lot of good music made out of poems?

You may know that I love PJ?

[skinsfan07]

http://www.extremeskins.com/showthread.php?t=282928

This is the official thread.

[MissU28]

http://www.extremeskins.com/showthread.php?t=282928

This is the official thread.

official=mad ghey;)

but okay...MY BADDDDDDDD

[Old Bay]

Charge of the Light Brigade by Tenyson. I actually did a report about it in a poetry focused college class. Kept me sane, it did.

[#98QBKiller]

I like Allen Ginsberg, Walt Whitman, and Shel Silverstein among others. Will have to copy and paste some of my favorites in this thread.

As far as poetry slam guys, I like Gemineye:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YPz9lL0y8sE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wQsrp5Mk6oo&feature=related

Among others

[gbear]

- Stephen Crane:

A man said to the universe:

"Sir I exist!"

"However," replied the universe,

"The fact has not created in me

A sense of obligation."

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

I always read that as the obligation is from ourselves to ourselves. We make of the world what we as a people will. It's a personal obligation but also a societal one.

[TGI Jef]

laundry by alan ginsberg

ill find it in a minute

[#98QBKiller]

laundry by alan ginsberg

ill find it in a minute

Also a Supermarket in California if you can find that one.

[CrypticVillain]

A poem by me

Time is not on my side

I have nowhere to run and nowhere to hide

Some say I should enjoy the ride

To grab life and coast on the tide

But for me life is not a beach

It is is something else that is not part of my speech

I had a girl who beauty was like the first breath of life

You knew that it was going to be good, especially if she became my wife.

As far as time goes, there is one thing I know,

when yours is up, you just gotta go.

-MLp33zy

[PleaseBlitz]

Shel Silverstein.

There is a place where the sidewalk ends

And before the street begins,

And there the grass grows soft and white,

And there the sun burns crimson bright,

And there the moon-bird rests from his flight

To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black

And the dark street winds and bends.

Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow

We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And watch where the chalk-white arrows go

To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,

For the children, they mark, and the children, they know

The place where the sidewalk ends.

[mel25]

my favorite poem would have to be "If" by Rudyard Kipling

IF

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with triumph and disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breath a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

[Lombardi's_kid_brother]

Rune of the Finland Woman

For Sára Karig

"You are so wise," the reindeer said, "you can bind the winds of the world in a single strand."—H. C. Andersen, "The Snow Queen"

She could bind the world's winds in a single strand.

She could find the world's words in a singing wind.

She could lend a weird will to a mottled hand.

She could wind a willed word from a muddled mind.

She could wend the wild woods on a saddled hind.

She could sound a wellspring with a rowan wand.

She could bind the wolf's wounds in a swaddling band.

She could bind a banned book in a silken skin.

She could spend a world war on invaded land.

She could pound the dry roots to a kind of bread.

She could feed a road gang on invented food.

She could find the spare parts of the severed dead.

She could find the stone limbs in a waste of sand.

She could stand the pit cold with a withered lung.

She could handle bad puns in the slang she learned.

She could dandle foundlings in their mother tongue.

She could plait a child's hair with a fishbone comb.

She could tend a coal fire in the Arctic wind.

She could mend an engine with a sewing pin.

She could warm the dark feet of a dying man.

She could drink the stone soup from a doubtful well.

She could breathe the green stink of a trench latrine.

She could drink a queen's share of important wine.

She could think a few things she would never tell.

She could learn the hand code of the deaf and blind.

She could earn the iron keys of the frozen queen.

She could wander uphill with a drunken friend.

She could bind the world's winds in a single strand.

Marilyn Hacker

[Mickalino]

Did I ever tell you that Mrs. McCave

Had twenty-three sons, and she named them all Dave?

Well, she did. And that wasn’t a smart thing to do.

You see, when she wants one, and calls out “Yoo-Hoo!

Come into the house, Dave!” she doesn’t get one.

All twenty-three Daves of hers come on the run!

This makes things quite difficult at the McCaves’

As you can imagine, with so many Daves.

And often she wishes that, when they were born,

She had named one of them Bodkin Van Horn.

And one of them Hoos-Foos. And one of them Snimm.

And one of them Hot-Shot. And one Sunny Jim.

And one of them Shadrack. And one of them Blinkey.

And one of them Stuffy. And one of them Stinkey.

Another one Putt-Putt. Another one Moon Face.

Another one Marvin O’Gravel Balloon Face.

And one of them Ziggy. And one Soggy Muff.

One Buffalo Bill. And one Biffalo Buff.

And one of them Sneepy. And one Weepy Weed.

And one Paris Garters. And one Harris Tweed.

And one of them Sir Michael Carmichael Zutt.

And one of them Oliver Boliver Butt.

And one of them Zanzibar Butt-Buck McFate . . . .

But she didn’t do it. And now it’s too late

[Lombardi's_kid_brother]

Philip Larkin - This Be The Verse

They **** you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you.

But they were ****ed up in their turn

By fools in old-style hats and coats,

Who half the time were soppy-stern

And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

And don't have any kids yourself.

[Lombardi's_kid_brother]

Casualty by Seamus Heaney

I

He would drink by himself

And raise a weathered thumb

Towards the high shelf,

Calling another rum

And blackcurrant, without

Having to raise his voice,

Or order a quick stout

By a lifting of the eyes

And a discreet dumb-show

Of pulling off the top;

At closing time would go

In waders and peaked cap

Into the showery dark,

A dole-kept breadwinner

But a natural for work.

I loved his whole manner,

Sure-footed but too sly,

His deadpan sidling tact,

His fisherman's quick eye

And turned observant back.

Incomprehensible

To him, my other life.

Sometimes on the high stool,

Too busy with his knife

At a tobacco plug

And not meeting my eye,

In the pause after a slug

He mentioned poetry.

We would be on our own

And, always politic

And shy of condescension,

I would manage by some trick

To switch the talk to eels

Or lore of the horse and cart

Or the Provisionals.

But my tentative art

His turned back watches too:

He was blown to bits

Out drinking in a curfew

Others obeyed, three nights

After they shot dead

The thirteen men in Derry.

PARAS THIRTEEN, the walls said,

BOGSIDE NIL. That Wednesday

Everyone held

His breath and trembled.

Continued....

[Lombardi's_kid_brother]

Daddy

by: Sylvia Plath

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 beautiful Nauset.

I used to pray to recover you.

Ach, du.

--------blah blah blah -------------

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 ****, I'm through.

[Lombardi's_kid_brother]

Can you tell I was an English major?

I saw Paul Muldoon give a reading two weeks ago. I want to just sit in a room and have him talk to me for 36 to 38 hours.

[unsonny]

There was a thread about poems before however,I like it.

I have a 3x GF who has a poem in the Smithsonian Institution.

I'll tell you later.

Waitin', watchin' the clock, it's four o'clock, it's got to stop

Tell him, take no more, she practices her speech

As he opens the door, she rolls over...

Pretends to sleep, as he looks her over

She lies and says she's in love with him, can't find a better man...

She dreams in color, she dreams in red, can't find a better man...

Can't find a better man

Can't find a better man

Ohh...

Talkin' to herself, there's no one else who needs to know...

She tells herself, oh...

Memories back when she was bold and strong

And waiting for the world to come along...

Swears she knew it, now she swears he's gone

She lies and says she's in love with him, can't find a better man...

She dreams in color, she dreams in red, can't find a better man...

She lies and says she still loves him, can't find a better man...

She dreams in color, she dreams in red, can't find a better man...

Can't find a better man.

Can't find a better man

She loved him, yeah...she don't want to leave this way

She needs him, yeah...that's why she'll be back again

Can't find a better man (can't find a better man)

Cant find a buttered ham:doh:

[scskin]

Dolemite FTW!!!!