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Post by limebirdwriters on Dec 8, 2011 16:44:46 GMT
Ok, I know this isn't original work, but I wouldn't say that poetry is my forté!
This is a few of my favourite poems, I would love to see some more so please share your favourites too. It can be from anywhere, or it could even be your own original work, but here is mine!
I like 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 galumphing 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.
I just love it. He's completely made up some of the words and some of it makes no sense, but that's what I love about it. I think it seems random, but at the same time, I think it was carefully put together.
How about you?
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Post by ottabelle on Dec 9, 2011 5:29:14 GMT
I'll admit, I haven't read much poetry. I did love Sylvia Plath though. I'll have to hunt later on to find one of my favorites. I'll post it once I find it.
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Post by ottabelle on Dec 10, 2011 6:01:15 GMT
Conversation Among the Ruins by Sylvia Plath Through portico of my elegant house you stalk With your wild furies, disturbing garlands of fruit And the fabulous lutes and peacocks, rending the net Of all decorum which holds the whirlwind back. Now, rich order of walls is fallen; rooks croak Above the appalling ruin; in bleak light Of your stormy eye, magic takes flight Like a daunted witch, quitting castle when real days break. Fractured pillars frame prospects of rock; While you stand heroic in coat and tie, I sit Composed in Grecian tunic and psyche-knot, Rooted to your black look, the play turned tragic: Which such blight wrought on our bankrupt estate, What ceremony of words can patch the havoc? I went through and found a site that had a few of her's. I nearly forgot how dark her poetry was. And considering I was about 12 and reading her... I was a scary-dark child. I don't think I understood every theme then, though. Maybe still don't.
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Post by limebirdwriters on Dec 10, 2011 14:39:36 GMT
Yeah, I always found her poetry quite dark! I don't understand a lot of poetry if I'm honest! Haha. That's why I like The Jabberwocky because it's such nonsense!
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Post by loupy on Dec 10, 2011 23:28:22 GMT
I really enjoy me some Edgar Allan Poe. One of my favorites would be A Dream Within a Dream.
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep- while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
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Post by ottabelle on Dec 11, 2011 3:39:42 GMT
Beth- I love nonsense. Loupy- That isn't one I remember reading, and it's amazing. Thanks for bringing it back to my attention. In 9th grade, I had an 'argument' with the teacher, we were both laughing, that Poe wasn't crazy. I think I lost, but it was fun.
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Post by neekswrite on Dec 14, 2011 11:20:32 GMT
Where Go the Boats? by Robert Louis Stevenson
Dark brown is the river, Golden is the sand. It flows along for ever, With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating, Castles of the foam, Boats of mine a-boating - Where will all come home?
On goes the river And out past the mill, Away down the valley, Away down the hill.
Away down the river, A hundred miles or more, Other little children Shall bring my boats ashore.
My grandmother read this to us when we were little - it's still one of my favorites.
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Post by loupy on Dec 14, 2011 13:07:15 GMT
OH one just hit me smack in the head that I had forgotten about!
O Captain! My Captain! by Walt Whitman
1
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done; The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won; The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring: But O heart! heart! heart! 5 O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. 2
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills; 10 For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding; For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head; It is some dream that on the deck, 15 You’ve fallen cold and dead. 3
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; 20 Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
It was written in reference to the death of President Abraham Lincoln. I've always loved this poem - it has such striking language. And the words aren't literal (or so they taught us in high school English class). Things like ship are referring to America, the trip it is referring to was the Civil War... A sad one but a great one.!
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Post by loupy on Dec 14, 2011 13:09:26 GMT
Where Go the Boats? by Robert Louis Stevenson Dark brown is the river, Golden is the sand. It flows along for ever, With trees on either hand. Green leaves a-floating, Castles of the foam, Boats of mine a-boating - Where will all come home? On goes the river And out past the mill, Away down the valley, Away down the hill. Away down the river, A hundred miles or more, Other little children Shall bring my boats ashore. My grandmother read this to us when we were little - it's still one of my favorites. That's a good one! I haven't read that one before.
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Post by 4amWriter on Dec 15, 2011 10:19:36 GMT
Yeats is one of my favorite poets, here is one I like:
The Circus Animals' Desertion by WB Yeats
I
I sought a theme and sought for it in vain, I sought it daily for six weeks or so. Maybe at last, being but a broken man, I must be satisfied with my heart, although Winter and summer till old age began My circus animals were all on show, Those stilted boys, that burnished chariot, Lion and woman and the Lord knows what.
II
What can I but enumerate old themes, First that sea-rider Oisin led by the nose Through three enchanted islands, allegorical dreams, Vain gaiety, vain battle, vain repose, Themes of the embittered heart, or so it seems, That might adorn old songs or courtly shows; But what cared I that set him on to ride, I, starved for the bosom of his faery bride.
And then a counter-truth filled out its play, 'The Countess Cathleen' was the name I gave it; She, pity-crazed, had given her soul away, But masterful Heaven had intervened to save it. I thought my dear must her own soul destroy So did fanaticism and hate enslave it, And this brought forth a dream and soon enough This dream itself had all my thought and love.
And when the Fool and Blind Man stole the bread Cuchulain fought the ungovernable sea; Heart-mysteries there, and yet when all is said It was the dream itself enchanted me: Character isolated by a deed To engross the present and dominate memory. Players and painted stage took all my love, And not those things that they were emblems of.
III
Those masterful images because complete Grew in pure mind, but out of what began? A mound of refuse or the sweepings of a street, Old kettles, old bottles, and a broken can, Old iron, old bones, old rags, that raving slut Who keeps the till. Now that my ladder's gone, I must lie down where all the ladders start In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart.
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Post by 4amWriter on Dec 15, 2011 10:22:30 GMT
OH one just hit me smack in the head that I had forgotten about! O Captain! My Captain! by Walt Whitman 1 O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done; The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won; The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring: But O heart! heart! heart! 5 O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. 2 O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills; 10 For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding; For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head; It is some dream that on the deck, 15 You’ve fallen cold and dead. 3 My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; 20 Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. It was written in reference to the death of President Abraham Lincoln. I've always loved this poem - it has such striking language. And the words aren't literal (or so they taught us in high school English class). Things like ship are referring to America, the trip it is referring to was the Civil War... A sad one but a great one.! I do love that one. Isn't it referenced in the movie Dead Poets' Society with Robin Williams?
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Post by limebirdwriters on Dec 16, 2011 16:01:47 GMT
I love all these! Thanks for sharing! Has anyone got any other original ones to share?
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JeffreyMilton
New Limebird Member
I'm not a bad devil, just a busy one. :-P
Posts: 13
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Post by JeffreyMilton on Dec 26, 2011 19:04:45 GMT
I like Poe. To some extent, I can relate to him.
Annabel Lee By Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee— With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me— Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we— Of many far wiser than we— And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea— In her tomb by the sounding sea.
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Post by ottabelle on Dec 28, 2011 17:35:57 GMT
I love "Annabel Lee" I haven't read it in a long time.
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Post by ottabelle on Dec 28, 2011 19:58:58 GMT
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