Your favorite poem or song?

I like...

If I were a dog, and you were a flower

I'd lift up my leg and give you a shower

The Doors version of Gloria

A sadder and a wiser man he rose the morrow mawn....

Heya Judy! How have you been?

Hmmm.. All I can say is that I dig "Mother" by Danzig

Turn on your icq Pat

The Doors - An American Prayer/ Hour For Magic/ Freedom Exists/ A Feast Of Friends

I also like e.e. cummings Somewhere I have Never Traveled, Shakespeare's sonnet 29, and Desiderata

There once was a man from Nantucket...

There's sooooooooooooooooooo many

damn me and my musical existance.

I love musicals too Tala

The Waking

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.


Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.


********

When I go mad,
I call my friends by phone:
I am afraid they might think
they're alone.

Theodore Roethke

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.

Robert Frost

No no no no no. Not "musicals."

MUSICAL. I'm a musician as well as a lover of good music.

(Though I admit a weakness for Phantom of the Opera....damn me and my dark side....but hey, the dark side has better cookies).

Thank you Raven... I love you

I got you hon.. just mentioned musicals as my personal prefs

Righto.

Carry on then.

Yes carry on please

HIGHS & LOWS
Staring at the stars cast up in the sky
The tears stream down and I begin to cry
The glowing embers spark as I inhale
My emotions have left, already set sail

The wind carries their meaning further away
For a lack of words, I have nothing to say
The smoke billows, my mouth becomes dry
My mind becomes numb as I get high

Thoughts race through my head, speeding so slow
The once-glowing light ceases to glow
My feelings follow suit, losing their steam
I wish things were how they used to seem

Or the Waste Land by T.S. Eliot.. what a classic you gotta love him.
Just the first part...

I. The Burial of the Dead

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish?Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Frisch weht der Wind
Der Heimat zu
Mein Irisch Kind
Wo weilest du?
'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
'They called me the hyacinth girl.'
-Yet when we came back, late, from the hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Oed' und leer das Meer.
Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, The Lady of the Rocks, The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.
Unreal City,
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: 'Stetson!
'You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
'That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
'Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
'Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
'O keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,
'Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
'You! Hypocrite lecteur! - mon semblable, - mon frère!'

always been my favorite...

Eminence Front - The Who

Good poetry right there.

Here are a few I like:

There once was a girl from Nantucket
whose pussy was big as a bucket
I put my dick in
and said with a grin
I'm gonna need a fence post to fuck it

A spiritual healer named Lee
Ducked into the alley to pee
He pissed in the eye
Of this blind homeless guy
Who screamed "Holy shit! I can see!

There once was a man from Nantucket
Whose dick was so big he could suck it
He said with a grin
As he wiped off his chin
If my ear was a hahahaha I would fuck it

There once was a young man who...
laid an extraordinary long poo.
He let out a scream!
Can this be a dream?
That'll never flush down the loo