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  1. #1
    Paroxysm's Avatar
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    What's your favorite poem?

    BTW Don't feel compelled to read all of these, just a few if you wish.
    Post your own.

    Couple of mine:

    1.
    I met a traveller from an antique land
    Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
    Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
    Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
    And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
    Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
    Which yet survive, stamped on 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.
    ~ Percy Shelley, Ozymandias



    2.
    There is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average human being to supply any given army on any given day
    and the best at murder are those who preach against it and the best at hate are those who preach love and the best at war finally are those who preach peace
    those who preach god, need god those who preach peace do not have peace those who preach peace do not have love beware the preachers beware the knowers beware those who are always reading books beware those who either detest poverty or are proud of it beware those quick to praise for they need praise in return beware those who are quick to censor they are afraid of what they do not know beware those who seek constant crowds for they are nothing alone beware the average man the average woman beware their love, their love is average seeks average
    but there is genius in their hatred there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you to kill anybody not wanting solitude not understanding solitude they will attempt to destroy anything that differs from their own not being able to create art they will not understand art they will consider their failure as creators only as a failure of the world not being able to love fully they will believe your love incomplete and then they will hate you and their hatred will be perfect
    like a shining diamond like a knife like a mountain like a tiger like hemlock
    their finest art
    — Charles Bukowski



    3.
    Lost Generation by Jonathon Reed
    I realize this may be a shock but
    'Happiness comes from within'
    is a lie, and
    'Money will make me happy'
    So in thirty years I will tell my children
    they are not the most important thing in my life.
    My employer will know that
    I have my priorities straight because
    work
    is more important than
    family
    I tell you this
    Once upon a time
    Families stayed together
    but this will not be true in my era
    this is a quick fix society
    Experts tell me
    Thirty years from now I will be celebrating the 10th anniversary of my divorce
    I do not concede that
    I will live in a country of my own making
    In the future
    Environmental destruction will be the norm
    No longer can it be said that
    My peers and I care about this earth
    It will be evident that
    My generation is apathetic and lethargic
    It is foolish to presume that
    There is hope.
    And all of this will come true unless we choose to reverse it.
    (now reread bottom line to top)



    4.
    Since feeling is first
    who pays any attention
    to the syntax of things
    will never wholly kiss you;
    wholly to be a fool
    while Spring is in the world
    my blood approves,
    and kisses are a better fate
    than wisdom
    lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
    - the best gesture of my brain is less than
    your eyelids' flutter which says
    we are for each other; then
    laugh, leaning back in my arms
    for life's not a paragraph
    And death i think is no parenthesis
    -e.e. cummings

    Just wouldn't be much of a list of great poems w/o something by Robert Frost



    5.
    Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost
    Whose woods these are I think I know.
    His house is in the village though;
    He will not see me stopping here
    To watch his woods fill up with snow.
    My little horse must think it queer
    To stop without a farmhouse near
    Between the woods and frozen lake
    The darkest evening of the year.
    He gives his harness bells a shake
    To ask if there is some mistake.
    The only other sound's the sweep
    Of easy wind and downy flake.
    The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
    But I have promises to keep,
    And miles to go before I sleep,
    And miles to go before I sleep.



    6.
    One of my favorites:
    Invictus - William E. Henley
    Out of the night that covers me,
    Black as the pit from pole to pole,
    I thank whatever gods may be
    For my unconquerable soul.
    In the fell clutch of circumstance
    I have not winced nor cried aloud.
    Under the bludgeonings of chance
    My head is bloody, but unbowed.
    Beyond this place of wrath and tears
    Looms but the Horror of the shade,
    And yet the menace of the years
    Finds and shall find me unafraid.
    It matters not how strait the gate,
    How charged with punishments the scroll,
    I am the master of my fate:
    I am the captain of my soul.




    7.
    "Fire And Ice" by Robert Frost
    Some say the world will end in fire,
    Some say in ice.
    From what I've tasted of desire
    I hold with those who favor fire.
    But if it had to perish twice,
    I think I know enough of hate
    To say that for destruction ice
    Is also great
    And would suffice.




    8.
    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.



    9.
    If by Rudyard Kipling
    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 triu*** 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!



    10.
    Dulce et Decorum Est - Wilfred Owen
    Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
    Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
    Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
    And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
    Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
    But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
    Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
    Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

    Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
    Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
    But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
    And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
    Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
    As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
    In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
    He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

    If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
    Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
    And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
    His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
    If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
    Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
    Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
    Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
    My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
    To children ardent for some desperate glory,
    The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
    Pro patria mori
    *** "Dulce et Decorum est
    Pro patria mori" means "It is sweet and honourable to die for one’s country."



    11.
    A boat beneath a sunny sky,
    Lingering onward dreamily
    In an evening of July--
    Children three that nestle near,
    Eager eye and willing ear,
    Pleased a simple tale to hear--
    Long has paled that sunny sky:
    Echoes fade and memories die.
    Autumn frosts have slain July.
    Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
    Alice moving under skies
    Never seen by waking eyes.
    Children yet, the tale to hear,
    Eager eye and willing ear,
    Lovingly shall nestle near.
    In a Wonderland they lie,
    Dreaming as the days go by,
    Dreaming as the summers die:
    Ever drifting down the stream--
    Lingering in the golden gleam--
    Life, what is it but a dream?



    12.
    READ THIS ONE ALOUD:
    The Jabberwocky by Lewis Carrol
    'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.
    "Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!"
    He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought— So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought.
    And as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came!
    One, two! One, two! and through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galu***ing back.
    "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" He chortled in his joy.
    'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.



    13.
    How insane do you have to be
    to be a bear and climb a tree
    i mean you weigh a million pounds
    why the fuck dont you fall down
    it makes no sense if you ask me
    why god damn bears can climb a tree



    14.
    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.


    15.
    The Cremation of Sam Mcgee, Robert Service
    There are strange things done in the midnight sun
    By the men who moil for gold;
    The Arctic trails have their secret tales
    That would make your blood run cold;
    The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
    But the queerest they ever did see
    Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
    I cremated Sam McGee.

    Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
    Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
    He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
    Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."

    On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
    Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
    If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
    It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

    And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
    And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
    He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
    And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

    Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
    "It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold, till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
    Yet 'tain't being dead — it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
    So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

    A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
    And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
    He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
    And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

    There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
    With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
    It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
    But you promised true, and it's up to you, to cremate those last remains."

    Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
    In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
    In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
    Howled out their woes to the homeless snows — Oh God! how I loathed the thing.

    And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
    And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
    The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
    And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

    Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
    It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
    And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
    Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

    Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
    Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
    The flames just soared, and the furnace roared — such a blaze you seldom see;
    And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

    Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
    And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
    It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
    And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

    I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
    But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
    I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
    I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.

    And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
    And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and said: "Please close that door.
    It's fine in here, but I greatly fear, you'll let in the cold and storm —
    Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

    There are strange things done in the midnight sun
    By the men who moil for gold;
    The Arctic trails have their secret tales
    That would make your blood run cold;
    The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
    But the queerest they ever did see
    Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
    I cremated Sam McGee.
    Last edited by Paroxysm; 03-16-2010 at 11:07 PM.
    "We swallow greedily any lie that flatters us, but we sip only little by little at a truth we find bitter." ~ Denis Diderot

  2. #2
    GOD's Avatar
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    Roses Are Red, Violets are blue
    I am the God.

  3. #3
    Paroxysm's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Justin Bieber View Post
    Roses Are Red, Violets are blue
    Roses are red
    Violets are blue
    TLDR;
    They're different hue

    Roses are red
    Violets are blue
    This verse doesn't rhyme
    and neither does this one
    "We swallow greedily any lie that flatters us, but we sip only little by little at a truth we find bitter." ~ Denis Diderot

  4. #4
    Jabuuty671's Avatar
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    Ehh, I don't necessarily have a favorite poem or poems.
    It all depends on my mood.
    Sometimes my own written poems are the best because they bring memories


  5. #5
    Dave84311's Avatar
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    STICKS AND STONES.... really the only poem I know of





    THE EYE OF AN ADMINISTRATOR IS UPON YOU. ANY WRONG YOU DO IM GONNA SEE, WHEN YOU'RE ON MPGH, LOOK BEHIND YOU, 'CAUSE THATS WHERE IM GONNA BE


    "First they ignore you. Then they laugh at you. Then they fight you. Then you lose.” - Dave84311

    HAD VIRTUAL DETOX

  6. #6
    Gourav2122's Avatar
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    It comes from very old folk nonsense doggeral and there are many versions and differences. The one I learned from my friends probably a compilation of several old poems.

    ONE FONE DAY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

    Ladies and Gentlemen, skinny and stout,

    I'll tell you a tale I know nothing about;
    The Admission is free, so pay at the door,
    Now pull up a chair and sit on the floor.

    One fine day in the middle of the night,

    Two dead boys got up to fight;
    Back to back they faced each other,
    Drew their swords and shot each other.

    A blind man came to watch fair play,

    A mute man came to shout "Horray!"
    A deaf policeman heard the noise and
    Came to stop those two dead boys.

    He lived on the corner in the middle of the block,

    In a two-story house on a vacant lot;
    A man with no legs came walking by,
    and kicked the lawman in his thigh.

    He crashed through a wall without making a sound,

    into a dry creek bed and suddenly drowned;
    The long black hearse came to cart him away,
    But he ran for his life and is still gone today.

    I watched from the corner of the big round table,

    The only eyewitness to facts of my fable;
    But if you doubt my lies are true,

  7. #7
    Paroxysm's Avatar
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    Well that's progress...
    "We swallow greedily any lie that flatters us, but we sip only little by little at a truth we find bitter." ~ Denis Diderot

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    Czar's Avatar
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    'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
    All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

    "Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
    The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
    Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
    The frumious Bandersnatch!"

    He took his vorpal sword in hand:
    Long time the manxome foe he sought—
    So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
    And stood awhile in thought.

    And as in uffish thought he stood,
    The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
    Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
    And burbled as it came!

    One, two! One, two! and through and through
    The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
    He left it dead, and with its head
    He went galu***ing back.

    "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
    Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
    O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
    He chortled in his joy.

    'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
    All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

    Lewis Carroll

  9. #9
    Paroxysm's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Czar View Post
    'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
    All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

    "Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
    The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
    Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
    The frumious Bandersnatch!"

    He took his vorpal sword in hand:
    Long time the manxome foe he sought—
    So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
    And stood awhile in thought.

    And as in uffish thought he stood,
    The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
    Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
    And burbled as it came!

    One, two! One, two! and through and through
    The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
    He left it dead, and with its head
    He went galu***ing back.

    "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
    Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
    O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
    He chortled in his joy.

    'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
    All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

    Lewis Carroll
    I already posted this, it's the 12th one...
    "We swallow greedily any lie that flatters us, but we sip only little by little at a truth we find bitter." ~ Denis Diderot

  10. #10
    Czar's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Paroxysm View Post
    I already posted this, it's the 12th one...
    I only read the first one you posted.
    Whoopsie...

  11. #11
    scimmyboy's Avatar
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    i hate poetry. 'nuf said

  12. #12
    Paroxysm's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Justin View Post
    i hate poetry. 'nuf said
    Lies and propaganda. Everyone loves poetry.
    Last edited by Paroxysm; 03-16-2010 at 11:13 PM.
    "We swallow greedily any lie that flatters us, but we sip only little by little at a truth we find bitter." ~ Denis Diderot

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    Gourav2122's Avatar
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    Blue alice


    The Alice of blue was a tame and tender gentleman
    Singing songs to all the folks who lived in Wonderland
    He sang a song so blue to fill his empty little world
    Created sounds of madness waiting to be unfurled
    This Alice was as fragile as the flowers all around
    The madness took a hold of him and shot him to the ground
    Blood stained the roses to a bright and somber red
    And those who shunned him loved the roses soiled from where he bled









  14. #14
    Paroxysm's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Gourav2122 View Post

    The Alice of blue was a tame and tender gentleman
    Singing songs to all the folks who lived in Wonderland
    He sang a song so blue to fill his empty little world
    Created sounds of madness waiting to be unfurled
    This Alice was as fragile as the flowers all around
    The madness took a hold of him and shot him to the ground
    Blood stained the roses to a bright and somber red
    And those who shunned him loved the roses soiled from where he bled.
    Related:

    Richard Corey

    WHENEVER Richard Cory went down town,
    We people on the pavement looked at him:
    He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
    Clean favored, and imperially slim.

    And he was always quietly arrayed,
    And he was always human when he talked;
    But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
    "Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

    And he was rich—yes, richer than a king,
    And admirably schooled in every grace:
    In fine, we thought that he was everything
    To make us wish that we were in his place.

    So on we worked, and waited for the light,
    And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
    And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
    Went home and put a bullet through his head.
    "We swallow greedily any lie that flatters us, but we sip only little by little at a truth we find bitter." ~ Denis Diderot

  15. #15
    Gourav2122's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Paroxysm View Post
    Related:

    Richard Corey

    WHENEVER Richard Cory went down town,
    We people on the pavement looked at him:
    He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
    Clean favored, and imperially slim.

    And he was always quietly arrayed,
    And he was always human when he talked;
    But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
    "Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

    And he was rich—yes, richer than a king,
    And admirably schooled in every grace:
    In fine, we thought that he was everything
    To make us wish that we were in his place.

    So on we worked, and waited for the light,
    And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
    And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
    Went home and put a bullet through his head.
    ouch...
    do say, that is quite sad.
    The man had everything that everyone wanted.. just shot himself

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