Favourite Poem

POSTED BY: kpo
UPDATED: Saturday, June 19, 2010 03:04
VIEWED: 8120
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KPO

Friday, June 11, 2010 11:47 PM

Been wanting to start this thread for a while. I've never really taken to 'verse' as an art form, but I'm curious about it and keen to hear about other Browncoats' tastes.

I could probably give a couple as personal favourites:

Time does not bring relief
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go - so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, 'There is no memory of him here!'
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

And one more, though this is something of a national poem here in Britain:

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 Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors 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 worn-out 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 breathe 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!

Heads should roll

BORIS

Saturday, June 12, 2010 12:45 PM

I envy anyone that can interpret and appreciate poetry. I've never been able to do either.

PENGUIN

Saturday, June 12, 2010 1:39 PM

King of the Mythical Land that is Iowa

KATESFRIEND

Saturday, June 12, 2010 2:13 PM

This is a little poem I found on the internet accompanied by a picture of a little boy who was dressed like a gang member. But it could apply to anyone whom you see as different.

Please do not Judge Me for Living My Truth
It’s mine and I own it whatever it’s Proof
Please do not Fear for Me for my Soul is Safe
Should you see Darkness within Me
Fear not, for it is in the right Place
My Lessons are Many, my fears may be great
Yet it is Mine to Reveal, and Restore without Hate
If ever you view me standing at Hell’s Darkest Gate
Please let it be known, the Light in my Heart, Shall be my guide Home.
When I struggle with Darkness, Fear and ill Faith
Your Love, plain and simple, shall help me find Grace
So Pray, judge not my fears, with your Anger nor Pain
Instead speed me Light, with Joy, in great Haste!
I ask simply this please…
Do not Judge me for Living my Truth
I AM what I AM and with All of my Might
I AM Purely and Simply
A Being of Light.
~Janya

KATESFRIEND

Saturday, June 12, 2010 2:13 PM

This is a little poem I found on the internet accompanied by a picture of a little boy who was dressed like a gang member. But it could apply to anyone whom you see as different.

Please do not Judge Me for Living My Truth
It’s mine and I own it whatever it’s Proof
Please do not Fear for Me for my Soul is Safe
Should you see Darkness within Me
Fear not, for it is in the right Place
My Lessons are Many, my fears may be great
Yet it is Mine to Reveal, and Restore without Hate
If ever you view me standing at Hell’s Darkest Gate
Please let it be known, the Light in my Heart, Shall be my guide Home.
When I struggle with Darkness, Fear and ill Faith
Your Love, plain and simple, shall help me find Grace
So Pray, judge not my fears, with your Anger nor Pain
Instead speed me Light, with Joy, in great Haste!
I ask simply this please…
Do not Judge me for Living my Truth
I AM what I AM and with All of my Might
I AM Purely and Simply
A Being of Light.
~Janya

KATESFRIEND

Saturday, June 12, 2010 2:14 PM

This is a little poem I found on the internet accompanied by a picture of a little boy who was dressed like a gang member. But it could apply to anyone whom you see as different.

Please do not Judge Me for Living My Truth
It’s mine and I own it whatever it’s Proof
Please do not Fear for Me for my Soul is Safe
Should you see Darkness within Me
Fear not, for it is in the right Place
My Lessons are Many, my fears may be great
Yet it is Mine to Reveal, and Restore without Hate
If ever you view me standing at Hell’s Darkest Gate
Please let it be known, the Light in my Heart, Shall be my guide Home.
When I struggle with Darkness, Fear and ill Faith
Your Love, plain and simple, shall help me find Grace
So Pray, judge not my fears, with your Anger nor Pain
Instead speed me Light, with Joy, in great Haste!
I ask simply this please…
Do not Judge me for Living my Truth
I AM what I AM and with All of my Might
I AM Purely and Simply
A Being of Light.
~Janya

KATESFRIEND

Saturday, June 12, 2010 2:14 PM

This is a little poem I found on the internet accompanied by a picture of a little boy who was dressed like a gang member. But it could apply to anyone whom you see as different.

Please do not Judge Me for Living My Truth
It’s mine and I own it whatever it’s Proof
Please do not Fear for Me for my Soul is Safe
Should you see Darkness within Me
Fear not, for it is in the right Place
My Lessons are Many, my fears may be great
Yet it is Mine to Reveal, and Restore without Hate
If ever you view me standing at Hell’s Darkest Gate
Please let it be known, the Light in my Heart, Shall be my guide Home.
When I struggle with Darkness, Fear and ill Faith
Your Love, plain and simple, shall help me find Grace
So Pray, judge not my fears, with your Anger nor Pain
Instead speed me Light, with Joy, in great Haste!
I ask simply this please…
Do not Judge me for Living my Truth
I AM what I AM and with All of my Might
I AM Purely and Simply
A Being of Light.
~Janya

KATESFRIEND

Saturday, June 12, 2010 2:16 PM

Sorry about that, I kept getting kicked out with an error message.

THESOMNAMBULIST

Saturday, June 12, 2010 11:07 PM

Hey KPO.
Nice topic. I always liked that 'If' poem.

Personally though I'm a Ted Hughes fan. He wrote some great poems about nature and wildlife. And I think because I live in the countryside I understand his prose more so than any other poet.

Always liked this one:

The Warm and the Cold by Ted Hughes

Freezing dusk is closing
Like a slow trap of steel
On trees and roads and hills and all
That can no longer feel.
But the carp is in its depth
Like a planet in its heaven.
And the badger in its bedding
Like a loaf in the oven.
And the butterfly in its mummy
Like a viol in its case.
And the owl in its feathers
Like a doll in its lace.

Freezing dusk has tightened
Like a nut screwed tight
On the starry aeroplane
Of the soaring night.
But the trout is in its hole
Like a chuckle in a sleeper.
The hare strays down the highway
Like a root going deeper.
The snail is dry in the outhouse
Like a seed in a sunflower.
The owl is pale on the gatepost
Like a clock on its tower.

Moonlight freezes the shaggy world
Like a mammoth of ice -
The past and the future
Are the jaws of a steel vice.
But the cod is in the tide-rip
Like a key in a purse.
The deer are on the bare-blown hill
Like smiles on a nurse.
The flies are behind the plaster
Like the lost score of a jig.
Sparrows are in the ivy-clump
Like money in a pig.

Such a frost
The flimsy moon
Has lost her wits.

A star falls.

The sweating farmers
Turn in their sleep
Like oxen on spits.

Cartoons - http://cirqusartsandmusic.blogspot.com

CHRISISALL

Saturday, June 12, 2010 11:58 PM

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.

Yes, I've read a poem; try not to faint.

The laughing Chrisisall

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