Your favorite poem

[Ben_n_austin]

See Dlck run. Run Dlck run
See Dlck run. Run Dlck . Run, run, run.
Look, look, look. See, see, see.
See Dlck run. Run, run, run

Nice work. :laugh2:






Dick: :leave:

 

[Yeagermeister]

My My My Music
Hits me so hard
It makes me say
Oh my God
Thank you
For pleasing me
With a mind to rhyme
And two hype feet

:mchammer:

 

[silverbear]

Once upon a time, in the land of hushabye,
Around about the wondrous days of yore
I chanced across a sort of box, bound up with chains, and locked with locks
And labelled "kindly do not touch-- it's war"

A decree was issued 'round about, all with a flourish and a shout
And a gaily colored mascot tripping lightly on before
"Don't fiddle with this deadly box, or break the chains, or pick the locks
And please, don't ever play about with war"

The children understood, children happen to be good
And they were just as good in those wondrous days of yore
They didn't try to pick the locks, or break into that deadly box
They never tried to play about with war

Mothers didn't either, sisters, aunts and grannies neither
'Cause they were quiet, and sweet, and pretty in those wondrous days of yore
Very much the same as now, and not the ones to blame somehow
For opening up that deadly box of war

But someone did, someone battered in the lid
And spilled the insides out across the floor
A sort of bouncy, bumpy ball, made up of all the guns,
And tears, and death that goes with war

It went bouncing right out, and bashing all about, and bumping into everything in store
It bumped the children mainly, and I'll tell you this quite plainly
It bumps them every day, and more, and more
It leaves them dead and burned and dying, thousands of them sick, and crying
'Cause when it bumps, it's really very sore

Now, there's a way to stop the ball; it isn't difficult at all
I'm absolutely sure, that we could get it back into the box
And bind the chains, and lock the locks
But no one seems to want to save the children any more

At least, that's the way it all appears,
'Cause it's been bouncing 'round for years and years
In spite of all the wisdom wizzed since those wondrous days of yore
And the time they came across the box
Bound up with chains, and locked with locks
And labelled "kindly do not touch, it's war"

I don't know the author of that one, believe it or not I heard it on an album by the late John Denver... maybe he wrote it, I dunno...

 

[VietCowboy]

I love ironic, contrary poems. I wrote 2 in high school and college, one very girly (about love), and another making fun of Bush. I do love a lot of the poems already mentioned, especially Maya's. One of my fav. poem below:

[FONT=Arial,Helvetica,Univers,Zurich BT][SIZE=-1]Anything Is Possible

[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Arial,Helvetica,Univers,Zurich BT][SIZE=-1]A crumpled leaf fell from the ground
and landed on a tree.
A drop of rain rippled through the sky,
it had fallen from the sea.
An owl closed his eyes at ten,
and slept throughout the night.
A touch of water kissed a wick,
and lit the candle bright.
Who talks of the impossible?
I say they should wake up.
For bees can very well be stung
by baby buttercups.
Truth is nothing but a lie,
and reality is a dream.
Once awaken, you'll find the world
Is not to what it seems.
To every rule made in life,
an exemption is conceived.
Anything is possible, if only you believe.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Arial,Helvetica,Univers,Zurich BT][SIZE=-1]-Kristine Sa[/SIZE][/FONT]



If you can't already tell, I love inspirational stuff...(for more, view my quotes in signature)

 

[Hostile]

Gunga Din - by Rudyard Kipling

You may talk o' gin and beer
When you're quartered safe out 'ere,
An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;
But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water,
An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
Now in Injia's sunny clime,
Where I used to spend my time
A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,
Of all them blackfaced crew
The finest man I knew
Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
He was "Din! Din! Din!
You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!
Hi! slippery hitherao!
Water, get it! Panee lao!
You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din."

The uniform 'e wore
Was nothin' much before,
An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind,
For a piece o' twisty rag
An' a goatskin water-bag
Was all the field-equipment 'e could find.
When the sweatin' troop-train lay
In a sidin' through the day,
Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl,
We shouted "Harry By!"
Till our throats were bricky-dry,
Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.
It was "Din! Din! Din!
You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been?
You put some juldee in it
Or I'll marrow you this minute
If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"

'E would dot an' carry one
Till the longest day was done;
An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear.
If we charged or broke or cut,
You could bet your bloomin' nut,
'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear.
With 'is mussick on 'is back,
'E would skip with our attack,
An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire",
An' for all 'is dirty 'ide
'E was white, clear white, inside
When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire!
It was "Din! Din! Din!"
With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green.
When the cartridges ran out,
You could hear the front-files shout,
"Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!"

I shan't forgit the night
When I dropped be'ind the fight
With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.
I was chokin' mad with thirst,
An' the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.
'E lifted up my 'ead,
An' he plugged me where I bled,
An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green:
It was crawlin' and it stunk,
But of all the drinks I've drunk,
I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
It was "Din! Din! Din!
'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen;
'E's chawin' up the ground,
An' 'e's kickin' all around:
For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!"

'E carried me away
To where a dooli lay,
An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.
'E put me safe inside,
An' just before 'e died,
"I 'ope you liked your drink", sez Gunga Din.
So I'll meet 'im later on
At the place where 'e is gone --
Where it's always double drill and no canteen;
'E'll be squattin' on the coals
Givin' drink to poor damned souls,
An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
Yes, Din! Din! Din!
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
Though I've belted you and flayed you,
By the livin' Gawd that made you,
You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

 

[DallasCowpoke]

The Cowboy's Dream
Authorship ascribed to Wait Roberts, Double Diamond Ranch White Mountains, 1898. Father of Captain Roberts, of the Texas Rangers.

Last night, as I lay on the prairie,
And looked at the stars in the sky,
I wondered if ever a cowboy
Would drift to that sweet by and by.

I hear there's to be a grand round-up
Where cowboys with others must stand,
To be cut out by the riders of judgment
Who are posted and know all the brands.

The trail to that great mystic region
Is narrow and dim, so they say;
While the one that leads down to perdition
Is posted and blazed all the way.

Whose fault is it, then, that so many
Go astray, on this wild range fail,
Who might have been rich and had plenty
Had they known of the dim, narrow trail?

I wonder if at the last day some cowboy
Unbranded and unclaimed should stand,
Would he be mavericked by those riders of judgment
Who are posted and know all the brands?

I wonder if ever a cowboy
Stood ready for that Judgment Day,
And could say to the Boss of the Riders,
"I'm ready, come, drive me away"?

For they, like the cows that are locoed,
Stampede at the sight of a hand,
Are dragged with a rope to the round-up,
Or get marked with some crooked man's brand.

And I'm scared that I'll be a stray yearling,
A maverick, unbranded on high,
And get cut in the bunch with the "rusties"
When the Boss of the Riders goes by.

For they tell of another big owner
Who's ne'er overstocked, so they say,
But who always makes room for the sinner
Who drifts from the straight, narrow way.

They say he will never forget you,
That he knows every action and look;
So for safety you'd better get branded,
Have your name in the great Tally Book.

My wish for all cowboys is this:
That we may meet at that grand final sale;
Be cut out by the riders of judgment
And shoved up the dim, narrow trail.

 

[trickblue]

It’s easy to grin / When your ship comes in / And you’ve got the stock market beat. / But the man worthwhile, / Is the man who can smile, / When his shorts are too tight in the seat.

 

[trickblue]

Images
by Tyrone Green

Dark and lonely on a Summer's night.
Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord...

Watchdog barking. Do he bite?
Kill my Landlord. Kill my Landlord...

Slip in his window. Break his neck.
Then his house I start to wreck.
Got no reason. What the heck?
Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord...

C-I-L-L my Landlord!​

 

[DallasFanSince86]

Eldorado
By: Edgar Allan Poe

Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had journeyed long,
Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old,
This knight so bold,
And o'er his heart a shadow,
Fell as he found,
No spot of ground,
That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength,
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow;
"Shadow," said he,
"Where can it be,
This land of Eldorado?"

"Over the mountains
Of the moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,"
The shade replied,
"If you seek for Eldorado!"

 

[silverbear]

Gunga Din - by Rudyard Kipling

You may talk o' gin and beer
When you're quartered safe out 'ere,
An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;
But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water,
An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
Now in Injia's sunny clime,
Where I used to spend my time
A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,
Of all them blackfaced crew
The finest man I knew
Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
He was "Din! Din! Din!
You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!
Hi! slippery hitherao!
Water, get it! Panee lao!
You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din."

The uniform 'e wore
Was nothin' much before,
An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind,
For a piece o' twisty rag
An' a goatskin water-bag
Was all the field-equipment 'e could find.
When the sweatin' troop-train lay
In a sidin' through the day,
Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl,
We shouted "Harry By!"
Till our throats were bricky-dry,
Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.
It was "Din! Din! Din!
You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been?
You put some juldee in it
Or I'll marrow you this minute
If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"

'E would dot an' carry one
Till the longest day was done;
An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear.
If we charged or broke or cut,
You could bet your bloomin' nut,
'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear.
With 'is mussick on 'is back,
'E would skip with our attack,
An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire",
An' for all 'is dirty 'ide
'E was white, clear white, inside
When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire!
It was "Din! Din! Din!"
With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green.
When the cartridges ran out,
You could hear the front-files shout,
"Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!"

I shan't forgit the night
When I dropped be'ind the fight
With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.
I was chokin' mad with thirst,
An' the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.
'E lifted up my 'ead,
An' he plugged me where I bled,
An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green:
It was crawlin' and it stunk,
But of all the drinks I've drunk,
I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
It was "Din! Din! Din!
'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen;
'E's chawin' up the ground,
An' 'e's kickin' all around:
For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!"

'E carried me away
To where a dooli lay,
An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.
'E put me safe inside,
An' just before 'e died,
"I 'ope you liked your drink", sez Gunga Din.
So I'll meet 'im later on
At the place where 'e is gone --
Where it's always double drill and no canteen;
'E'll be squattin' on the coals
Givin' drink to poor damned souls,
An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
Yes, Din! Din! Din!
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
Though I've belted you and flayed you,
By the livin' Gawd that made you,
You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

The late, great Jim Croce actually turned that into a really nice song...

 

[AbeBeta]

This one was the first to ever grip me and make me realize, damn, I like this stuff.

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: somewhere in sands of the desert
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
Reel 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 Yeats, "The Second Coming"

 

[AbeBeta]

Too long to post, but the poem that is my favorite is Kaddish by Allen Ginsberg. It is a eulogy for his mother. It is pretty heavy.

If you can find a video of him reading it, it is best. Much like reading On the Road shook me to my core, hearing Ginsberg read Kaddish did the same.

 

[Ben_n_austin]

WG - Interesting poet. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maya_Angelou

People hate me for this, but I'm a huge fan of Malcom X as I stubbornly advocate civil rights.... Thanks for posting. This is off topic, but I just finished reading Lori Parks' The American Play and other works. She's sort of a controversial literary advocate for civil rights and uses fiction as a means of restoring the gap in history. I noted that Angelou's work is sometimes categorized as "autobiographical fiction". I'd like to read more from her....

Maya's biographical information is extensive, so I won't post the whole thing. But I found this interesting... Angelou became close friends with Malcolm X in Ghana and returned to America in 1964 to help him build a new civil rights organization, the Organization of African American Unit.

Unfortunately, I haven't read any of her stuff before. But I like it.

 

[Hostile]

Okay, it took me a while to find this. I wrote this in 1996 for a class and the teacher liked it a lot. This poem caused a lot of discussion in my class because people argued what it was about.

Do you know what it is about? Take your best guess. Only 2 people have ever got it right on their 1st guess.

Forbidden Love

Sixteen when first you seduced me with a kiss.
Tightly hold me, in your grip I am caught,
Warm all over, partly numb, feeling bliss;
Like a drug overcome me, fill my thoughts.

First love, brand new and good enough for me;
Certain that our perfect union breeds disgust;
True love, pure need, I have to make them see,
The want of your embrace can drive my lust.

My head swims, lost in the stupor you create.
Kindred spirits, I ache to be with you;
Can one so good as you cause them to hate?
They beg me let you go, begin anew.

Twelve steps, give me a moment to confess,
Unfold the sordid story of this mess.

 

[Ben_n_austin]

This is a short story I've always liked called What America Would Be Like Without Blacks by Ralph Ellison.

It's a short piece, but a long post so I won't post it.

http://www.teachingamericanhistory.org/library/index.asp?document=574

But it's an awesome essay/ write up, if anyone cares to read. I have an interest in literature written by blacks due to their educational, societal constraints imposed throughout history and how they managed to, sort of, distinguish themselves as respectable literarians in spite of the tyranny of the majority's efforts to silence their voices in history.

In any case, though Obama gets accused of playing the race card. I'd venture to say more vehement sentiments are held by those who judge based on skin color. But that's neither here, nor there. The story isn't about recent issues... (just a clarification).

 

[Ben_n_austin]

Okay, it took me a while to find this. I wrote this in 1996 for a class and the teacher liked it a lot. This poem caused a lot of discussion in my class because people argued what it was about.

Do you know what it is about? Take your best guess. Only 2 people have ever got it right on their 1st guess.

Forbidden Love

Sixteen when first you seduced me with a kiss.
Tightly hold me, in your grip I am caught,
Warm all over, partly numb, feeling bliss;
Like a drug overcome me, fill my thoughts.

First love, brand new and good enough for me;
Certain that our perfect union breeds disgust;
True love, pure need, I have to make them see,
The want of your embrace can drive my lust.

My head swims, lost in the stupor you create.
Kindred spirits, I ache to be with you;
Can one so good as you cause them to hate?
They beg me let you go, begin anew.

Twelve steps, give me a moment to confess,
Unfold the sordid story of this mess.

If I had to guess, I'd say that's about, sort of, a love/hate relationship? Or am I wrong? Additionally, I'd say there was someone who didn't want a girl you loved to be with you.

If I'm wrong, what is it about?

I love the stuff that's hard to interpret or that can be interpreted several ways.

 

[Hostile]

If I had to guess, I'd say that's about, sort of, a love/hate relationship? Or am I wrong? Additionally, I'd say there was someone who didn't want a girl you loved to be with you.

If I'm wrong, what is it about?

I love the stuff that's hard to interpret or that can be interpreted several ways.

Wrong. PM coming.

 

[Ben_n_austin]

Wrong. PM coming.

Great poem. It's a lot better now that I know what it's about.....

How about this one? What do you think it's about. I'm torn, but I'll give you my interpretation (without seeking others) if you don't think it's obvious. But what would you say this is about--without googling other analysis'.

Holy Sonnets by John Donne (1572-1632)

Holy Sonnets

Batter my heart, three personed God, for you
And yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend:
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow meand bend
Your force to break, blow, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurped town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you and would be loved fain,
But am betrothed by your enemy:
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

This one was the first to ever grip me and make me realize, damn, I like this stuff.

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: somewhere in sands of the desert
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
Reel 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 Yeats, "The Second Coming"

Abe, what do you like about that poem? Maybe you can help me find a deeper meaning.... I'm interested, but dense too.

**scratch that, I found this source to be helpful: http://www.humboldt.edu/~jlw47/thesecondcoming.html

.. and I guess it was a rather difficult poem to interpret...

 

[Ben_n_austin]

Holy Sonnets

Batter my heart, three personed God, for you
And yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend:
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow meand bend
Your force to break, blow, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurped town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you and would be loved fain,
But am betrothed by your enemy:
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

=========

OK, this is a refreshing thread. I love literature, especially short stories and poems we can read in a sitting and then discuss and analyze. That's the beauty of short stories and poems, no one gets lost wondering which page we're on or what chapter we're talking about.

But I'm going to attempt to analyze this poem.... (disclaimer) I haven't studied this genre or era, but I've read things close enough, I guess. I'm sure Danny can correct me, as I recall this is one of his favorite poets.

1 In the first line He's struggling w/ faith and refers to a three person God. Meaning: Heaven, Hell and his world. Or three persons being God, the devil and what he sees as a false dichotomy of reality and how God and the devil represent good and evil. Yet, something doesn't have to be one or the other.

2 In the second, he's talking about knocking on God's door and asking him to be his saviour. He breaths life in God's glory as he seeks to follow the teachings of Jesus and forgive.

3rd line he's writing about losing his faith and meandering down a different "bend" or fork in the road.

4th line, referring to the ultimatum associated with heaven and hell.

5th he's conveying the taboo of holding unacceptable religious beliefs, or having stray thoughts, given the time period he lives in....

6th he's talking about how his personal logic defies the notion of God.

7th Acknowledging the ruling power of God within society and the expectations of him to fit within the rules of the ruling power--even defend, in the name of God.

8 He expresses the ruling power holds his true beliefs captive, because of the so-called "tyranny of the majority".

9 He's playing it safe saying he loves him, though disingenuous. He's also insincere in saying he'd be loved in return by God.

10 In this lines he changes gears and reveals having sinned. And claims a binding relationship between himself and the so-called devil... or evil forces.

11. He contradicts his previous sentiments as he genuinely asks God to deliver him from evil--

12. Playing on his own words, he asks God to place him within God's constraints, so he can be divorced from evil.

13. Religion has been so imbedded in his life's learnings that he's captivated by the idea of God--

14. A stunning conclusion (going by my analysis): He says he doesn't have a choice to believe and feels forced to comply to social expectations due to the exclusion he'd likely experience for expressing his true thoughts.
-----------------------


That's be my outline, of course, not an essay. But I was really struggling, and still may be, trying to make sense out of that one.

 

[AbeBeta]

Abe, what do you like about that poem? Maybe you can help me find a deeper meaning.... I'm interested, but dense too.

**scratch that, I found this source to be helpful: http://www.humboldt.edu/~jlw47/thesecondcoming.html

.. and I guess it was a rather difficult poem to interpret...

I like how dense the poem is and how each line leaves you thinking about what the hell it is about -- it really burrowed into my head

don't know if i'd rely on that analysis of it though.