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Give me pretty words!
I know I updated, like, a half an hour ago--but! I had a thought (scary as that is).
I love poetry and I have my favorite poets, but I haven't really branched out past the classic poetry writers like Emily Dickinson, Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Frost, etc.
So.
List me your favorite poems, right here in the comments, and tell me why you like them so much. That's right. GO NOW, DO EEET. :D
I love poetry and I have my favorite poets, but I haven't really branched out past the classic poetry writers like Emily Dickinson, Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Frost, etc.
So.
List me your favorite poems, right here in the comments, and tell me why you like them so much. That's right. GO NOW, DO EEET. :D
ONE of my favorites
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes!
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire!
And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand! & what dread feet!
What the hammer! what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain
What the anvil, what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spear
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see
Did he who made the Lamb make thee!
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry!
Poison Tree - Blake
I told my wrath, my wrath did end
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.
And into my garden stole,
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretchd beneath the tree.
The Lamb
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life & bid thee feed,
By the stream & o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, wooly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little Lamb, I'll tell thee,
Little Lamb, I'll tell thee:
He is called by thy name,
For he calls himself a Lamb.
He is meek & he is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child & thou a lamb.
We are called by his name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Night - Blake
The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest.
And I must seek for mine.
The moon like a flower.
In heaven's high bower,
With silent delight
Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight;
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen they pour blessing.
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.
They look in every thoughtless nest,
Where birds are cover'd warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm;
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping
They pour sleep on their head
And sit down by their bed.
When wolves and tygers howl for prey,
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away.
And keep them from the sheep.
But if they rush dreadful,
The angels, most heedful,
Recieve each mild spirit,
New worlds to inherit.
And there the lion's ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold.
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold,
Saying "Wrath, by his meekness,
And, by his health, sickness
Is driven away
From our immortal day.
"And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep;
Or think on him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee and weep.
For, wash'd in life's river,
My bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold
As I guard o'er the fold."
the CORRECT version of the following:
I felt a funeral in my brain,
And mourners, to and fro,
Kept treading, treading, till it seemed
That sense was breaking through.
And when they all were seated,
A service like a drum
Kept beating, beating, till I thought
My mind was going numb.
And then I heard them lift a box,
And creak across my soul
With those same boots of lead,
Then space began to toll
As all the heavens were a bell,
And Being but an ear,
And I and silence some strange race,
Wrecked, solitary, here.
And then a plank in reason, broke,
And I dropped down and down--
And hit a world at every plunge,
And finished knowing--then--
Re: the CORRECT version of the following:
Another Dickinson...
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.
We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.
We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.
Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
Re: Another Dickinson...
Re: Another Dickinson...
Re: Poison Tree - Blake
Re: ONE of my favorites
He Remembers Forgotten Beauty - WB Yeats
This is my ALLLLLLTIME favourite ever everest ever.
When my arms wrap you round I press
My heart upon the loveliness
That has long faded from the world
The jewelled crowns that kings have hurled
In shadowy pools, when armies fled
The love-tales wrought with silken thread
By dreaming ladies upon cloth
That has made fat the murderous moth
The dew-cold lillies ladies bore
Through many a sacred corridor
Where such great clouds of incense rose
That only God's eyes did not close
For that pale breast and lingering hand
Come from a more dream-heavy land
A more dream-heavy hour than this
And as you sigh from kiss to kiss
I hear white Beauty sighing too
For hours when all must fade like dew
But flame on flame, and deep on deep
Throne on throne, where in half-sleep
Their swords upon their iron knees
Brood her high lonely mysteries.
AND YOU CAN CHECK THAT YOURSELF I BET YOU ANYTHING I GOT IT ALL RIGHT!
Love that poem. NOTHING beats that poem
no subject
It's called The Soldier, by Rupert Brooke
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
Ok so I couldn't recite that one right off. But I love it. It makes me sad and think of all the composers who went off the rails and/or died in the First World War...
Re: He Remembers Forgotten Beauty - WB Yeats
That is a gorgeous poem, too. I ♥ Yeats!
no subject
p.s. you can have as many as you want! that's the fun of it!
Re: He Remembers Forgotten Beauty - WB Yeats
A proper poet.
He said things
that made you think
and said them nicely.
He saw things
that you or I
could never see
and saw them clearly.
He had a way
with language.
Images flocked around
him like birds,
St Francis, he was,
of the words. Words?
Why he could almost make 'em talk.
no subject
Here we go!
When we buried
the dog in
the garden on
the grave we put
a cross and
the tall man
next door was
cross.
'Animals have no
souls,' he said.
'They must have animal
souls,' we said. 'No,'
he said and
shook his head.
'Do you need a
soul to go
to Heaven?' we
asked. He nodded
his head. 'Yes,'
he said.
'That means my
hamster's not
in heaven,' said
Kevin. 'Nor is
my dog,' I said.
'My cat could sneak
in anywhere,' said
Clare. And we thought
what a strange place Heaven
must be with
nothing to stroke
for eternity.
We were all
seven.
We decided we
did not want to
go to Heaven.
For that the
tall man next
door is to blame.
I like that.
Re: He Remembers Forgotten Beauty - WB Yeats
Re: He Remembers Forgotten Beauty - WB Yeats
Re: He Remembers Forgotten Beauty - WB Yeats
I've thought of a poem
I carry it carefully,
nervously, in my head,
Like a saucer of milk;
in case I should spill some lines
before I put it down.
-Shallow Poem by Gerda Mayer
Re: He Remembers Forgotten Beauty - WB Yeats
Re: He Remembers Forgotten Beauty - WB Yeats
Re: Here we go!
Re: Here we go!
My Eyes are Watering by Trevor Harvey
I've got a cold
And that is why
My eyes are watering.
It's nothing to do
With getting caught
When I had planned
To SMASH
The rounders ball
SO FAR
That is would go
Into PERMANENT ORBIT
Round the school.
It would've done, too -
If Lucy Smith
Hadn't RUSHED
To catch it.
"Look at Trevor -
He's having a cry!"
Not true.
I've got a cold
And THAT is why
My eyes are watering.
OK?
Re: Here we go!
Re: Here we go!
Re: Here we go!
Re: The Lamb