Favorite Poems
 

Ok, I know theres artsy folk out there, and for those who write their own poetry please post, I love to read others work. If not, you can always post a favorite poem you know it.

Oh, and if it starts with " There was once a man from Nantucket..."

That doesnt count :P

Lord Byron - She walks in beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meets in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o'er her face, 10
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,?
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.

Still I Rise
Maya Angelou


You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

The Green Hills of Earth
Robert A. Heinlein

Let the sweet fresh breezes heal me
As they rove around the girth
Of our lovely mother planet
Of the cool, green hills of Earth.

We rot in the moulds of Venus,
We retch at her tainted breath.
Foul are her flooded jungles,
Crawling with unclean death.

[ --- the harsh bright soil of Luna ---
--- Saturn's rainbow rings ---
--- the frozen night of Titan --- ]

We've tried each spinning space mote
And reckoned its true worth:
Take us back again to the homes of men
On the cool, green hills of Earth.

The arching sky is calling
Spacemen back to their trade.
ALL HANDS! STAND BY! FREE FALLING!
And the lights below us fade.

Out ride the sons of Terra,
Far drives the thundering jet,
Up leaps a race of Earthmen,
Out, far, and onward yet ---

We pray for one last landing
On the globe that gave us birth;
Let us rest our eyes on the friendly skies
And the cool, green hills of Earth.

Put Something In

Draw a crazy picture,
Write a nutty poem,
Sing a mumble-grumble song,
Whistle through your comb.
Do a loony-goony dance
'Cross the kitchen floor,
Put something silly in the world
That ain't been there before.

--S.S.

There was a man called Dave
Who kept a dead whore in a cave
He said "I admit
I am a bit of a shit
But think of the money I save."

Believe*me,*if*all*those*endearing*young*charms,
***Which*I*gaze*on*so*fondly*today,
Were*to*change*by*tomorrow,*and*fleet*in*my*arms,
***Like*fairy-gifts*fading*away,
Thou*wouldst*still*be*adored,*as*this*moment*thou* art,
***Let*thy*loveliness*fade*as*it*will,
And*around*the*dear*ruin*each*wish*of*my*heart
***Would*entwine*itself*verdantly*still.
It*is*not*while*beauty*and*youth*are*thine*own,
***And*thy*cheeks*unprofaned*by*a*tear
That*the*fervor*and*faith*of*a*soul*can*be*known,
***To*which*time*will*but*make*thee*more*dear;
No,*the*heart*that*has*truly*loved*never*forgets,
***But*as*truly*loves*on*to*the*close,
As*the*sunflower*turns*on*her*god,*when*he*sets,
***The*same*look*which*she*turned*when*he*rose.

Never Give All The Heart by W.B. Yeats

NEVER give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women if it seem
Certain, and they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that's lovely is
But a brief, dreamy. Kind delight.
O never give the heart outright,
For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.

I know people will make fun of me for posting this one. But what can I say this is my favorite. I think it is because I, and I believe everyone, have been in his shoes.

Casey at the Bat

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought if only Casey could but get a whack at that --
We'd put up even money now with Casey at the bat.

But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake.
And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat.
For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Johnnie safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place,
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped --
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.

From the benches, bleak with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm waves on a worn and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone in the stands,
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it and the umpire said, "Strike two."

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and the echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.


They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clinched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh! somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville -- mighty Casey has struck out.

Zombie Fishing Trip by DarkBob

I was fishing one day, just me and my daughter
When a slimy green hand rose out of the water
It was of a man, been dead for a year
No amount of words could express my fear
He walked out of the water, I looked at him in doubt
Then on my daughter he began to pig out

Robert Frost - Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour 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.

Another favorite of mine Baudelaire.

'The Litanies of Satan
by Charles Baudelaire

O thou, of Angels loveliest, most wise,
O God betrayed by fate, deprived of praise,
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!
O Prince of exile, who was dispossessed,
Who ever rises stronger when oppressed,
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!
O thou who knowest all, Hell's sovereign,
Known healer of mankind's afflictions,
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!
Thou who the lepers and pariahs doomed
Show out of love the Paradise to come,
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!
Thou who in Death, your mistress old and strong,
Breeds Hope - delightful aberration!
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!
Thou who dost give the outlaw the proud glance
Which damns the crowd who watch his sufferance,
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!
Thou who dost know where greedy earth enfolds
The precious stones a jealous God concealed,
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!
Thou whose clear eye knows the deep sepulchres
Where multitudes of metals lie interred,
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!
Thou whose great hand conceals the precipice
From the somnambulist whom roofs entice,
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!
Thou who by magic softens the old bones
Of loitering drunks by horses trampled down,
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!
Thou who, consoling frail mankind in pain,
Taught us to make our guns and gun-cotton,
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!
Thou who didst set thy mark, accomplice skilled,
Upon the heart of Croesus harsh and vile,
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!
Thou who put into women's hearts and eyes
The cult of wounds, the love of poverty,
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!
Staff of the exile and discoverer,
Confessor of condemned conspirator,
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!
Father to those whom in his sombre wrath
God drove from his Paradise on earth,
Satan, have mercy on my long distress!'

from 'Flowers Of Evil.'

heres more.
http://www.geocities.com/Paris/Arc/5340/bflowers.htm

Pretty ballsy of you to post this postmodern French bullshit with all the anti-French sentiment flying around here lately :winkwink:

ive been a big fan of the guy since college myself, so im just breakin balls.

Ive heard of that one before, really pretty

Yeah well, theoretically since my family migrated from there in the 1600s and moved to New Orleans i got a fair amount of French blood, im just American.

yeah i really got into Baudelaire in college, I was a Literature major (at first)

:glugglug

Ive read other poens of hers, shes awesome

A couple love poems...

Your words are my food, your breath is my wine
You are everything to me.

- Sarah Bernhardt -

I love you not only for what you are,
but for what I am when I am with you

- Elizabeth Barrett Browning -

Roses are red,
violets are blue,
I'm schizophrenic,
and so am I.

poe - the raven
dr seuss - the lorax