The "discuss your favorite poems" thread (Page 2)
My old man's a white old man
And my old mother's black
If ever i cursed my white ole man
I take my curses back
If ever I cursed my black ole mother
And whished she were in hell
I'm sorry for that evil wish and now i wish her well
My ole man died in a big fine house
My ole mah died in a shack
I wonder where im gunna die
Being neither white nor black
ExcellentOwl: Thanks alleycat. I've always liked Langston Hughes. "Dreams," "The Dream Keeper," "Dream Deferred"... Hm, I am sensing a pattern here. Haha, I like "Quiet Girl" as well.
alleycat09: thnx 4 the addition...its been a while since ive read him...quiet girl captures so much in saying so little, part of his true talent
Nathaniel Nirvana: just one of my faves,
an excert from percy shelleys triumph of life
Amid the sun, as he amid the blaze
Of his own glory, on the vibrating
Floor of the fountain, paved with flashing rays,
A shape all light, which with one hand did fling
Dew on the earth, as if she were the dawn,
And the invisible rain did ever sing
A silver music on the mossy lawn;
And still before me on the dusky grass,
Iris her many-coloured scarf had drawn;
Nathaniel Nirvana: excert from shelley's music
I pant for the music which is divine,
My heart in its thirst is a dying flower;
Pour forth the sound like enchanted wine,
Loosen the notes in a silver shower;
Like a herbless plain, for the gentle rain,
I gasp, I faint, till they wake again.
Nathaniel Nirvana: fragments of rain & wind ~ Shelley
The gentleness of rain was in the wind.
When soft winds and sunny skies
With the green earth harmonize,
And the young and dewy dawn,
Bold as an unhunted fawn,
Up the windless heaven is gone,-
Laugh-for ambushed in the day,-
Clouds and whirlwinds watch their prey.
The rude wind is singing
The dirge of the music dead;
The cold worms are clinging
Where kisses were lately fed.
Nathaniel Nirvana: I love all poems by Percy Shelley, and admire his life as he was a campaigner for freedom & freedom of expression.
My other fave poems are those of Dante Gabriel Rossetti of pre-raphelite fame, he was a brilliant artist & movement leader.
the other Dante was an inspirational genius too, especially with his Divine Comedie.
@_Electric Owl_ you haven't really mentioned much about your favourite poems yet, ?
ExcellentOwl: Good ones nathaniel, thank you.
I have too many, haha... I'll post one.
"Bluebird" by Charles Bukowski
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
Chairman Meow: XXVI
Good creatures, do you love your lives
And have you ears for sense?
Here is a knife like other knives,
That cost me eighteen pence.
I need but stick it in my heart
And down will come the sky
And earth's foundations will depart
And all you folk will die.
- A.E. Houseman
ruemorgueave: I'm digging the Shelley love, Prometheus Unbound is one of my favorites.
A favorite couple of quartets from Khayyam's Rubaiyat (yes, the FitzGerald translation, don't give me any grief, purists!)
And fear not lest Existence closing your
Account, and mine, should know the like no more;
The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'd
Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.
When You and I behind the Veil are past,
Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last,
Which of our Coming and Departure heeds
As the Sea's self should heed a pebblecast.
ruemorgueave: Musee des Beaux Arts - Auden
About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well they understood
its human position; how it takes place
While somoene else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting,
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not especially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's house
Stratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance, how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
ruemorgueave: Not as good as a couple of his others, so I recommend checking out Aubude (and reading on his fascinating dichotomous obsessiosn with the English countryside, religion, and sodomy.
This Be the Verse
They fuck 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 fucked 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.