What is your favourite Poem or Sonnet???

[theenglishman]

Hi guys,

For anyone who likes poetry, no matter the kind.

This is my favourite Sonnet, It's by a First World War soldier, shortly after writing it he was killed in ation.

The Soldier, By Rupert Brooks.

If I should die, think only this of me.
That there's some corner of a foreign field.
That is for ever England.
There shall be in that rich earth a richer dust concealed.
A dust whom Englan bore, shaped, made aware, gave once her flowers to love, her ways to roam, breathing English air, washed by the rivers, blest by the suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away.
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less.
Gives somwhere back to the thought of Englands given.
Her sight and sounds,dreams as happy as her days.
And laughter, learnt of friends and gentleness, in the hearts of peace under an English heaven.

I hope you enjoyed this Sonnet, and please add your own.

[theenglishman]

Come on guys, this isn't about my favourite poem, it's about poems in general.

There must be some poetry lovers here.

[Black-Cuban_Mami]

hmm.. that's a tough one.

i'd have to say William Shakespeare's 'The Rape of Lucrece'

[Blackinjun]

I have two by the same poet..

Dream Deferred

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?

Langston Hughes

----------

Democracy

Democracy will not come
Today, this year
Nor ever
Through compromise and fear.

I have as much right
As the other fellow has
To stand
On my two feet
And own the land.

I tire so of hearing people say,
Let things take their course.
Tomorrow is another day.
I do not need my freedom when I'm dead.
I cannot live on tomorrow's bread.

Freedom
Is a strong seed
Planted
In a great need.

I live here, too.
I want freedom
Just as you.

Langston Hughes

[theenglishman]

Blackinjun wrote:

I have two by the same poet..
Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Langston Hughes
----------
Democracy
Democracy will not come
Today, this year
Nor ever
Through compromise and fear.
I have as much right
As the other fellow has
To stand
On my two feet
And own the land.
I tire so of hearing people say,
Let things take their course.
Tomorrow is another day.
I do not need my freedom when I'm dead.
I cannot live on tomorrow's bread.
Freedom
Is a strong seed
Planted
In a great need.
I live here, too.
I want freedom
Just as you.
Langston Hughes

Thanks for your poems Blackinjun, there much appreciated.

[stacey]

Gwendolyn Brooks: "The Mother"
Very sensitive issue for me and right now I am doing research on this poem for a paper.

Abortions will not let you forget.
You remember the children you got that you did not get,
The damp small pulps with little or with no hair,
The singers and workers that never handled the air.
You will never neglect or beat
Them, or silence or buy with a sweet.
You will never wind up the sucking thumb
Or scuttle off ghosts that come.
You will never leave them, controlling your luscious sigh,
Return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.
I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim-killed children.
I have contracted. I have eased
My dim dears at the breasts they could never suck.
I have said, Sweets, if I sinned, if I seized
Your luck
And your lives from your unfinished reach,
If I stole your births and your names,
Your straight baby tears and your games,
Your stilted or lovely loves, your tumults, your marriages, aches, and your deaths,
If I poisoned the beginnings of your breaths,
Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate.
Though why should I whine,
Whine that the crime was other than mine?--
Since anyhow you are dead.
Or rather, or instead,
You never were made.
But that too, I am afraid,
Is faulty: oh, what shall I say, how is the truth to be said?
You were born, you had body, you died.
It is just that you never giggled or planned or cried.

Believe me, I loved you all.
Believe me, I knew you, though faintly, and I loved you, and I loved you
All.

[theenglishman]

stacey wrote:

Gwendolyn Brooks: "The Mother"
Very sensitive issue for me and right now I am doing research on this poem for a paper.
Abortions will not let you forget.
You remember the children you got that you did not get,
The damp small pulps with little or with no hair,
The singers and workers that never handled the air.
You will never neglect or beat
Them, or silence or buy with a sweet.
You will never wind up the sucking thumb
Or scuttle off ghosts that come.
You will never leave them, controlling your luscious sigh,
Return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.
I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim-killed children.
I have contracted. I have eased
My dim dears at the breasts they could never suck.
I have said, Sweets, if I sinned, if I seized
Your luck
And your lives from your unfinished reach,
If I stole your births and your names,
Your straight baby tears and your games,
Your stilted or lovely loves, your tumults, your marriages, aches, and your deaths,
If I poisoned the beginnings of your breaths,
Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate.
Though why should I whine,
Whine that the crime was other than mine?--
Since anyhow you are dead.
Or rather, or instead,
You never were made.
But that too, I am afraid,
Is faulty: oh, what shall I say, how is the truth to be said?
You were born, you had body, you died.
It is just that you never giggled or planned or cried.
Believe me, I loved you all.
Believe me, I knew you, though faintly, and I loved you, and I loved you
All.

Thank you very much stacey, that was very moving.

[theenglishman]

Last chance guys, then i'll let this thread die.

[Black-Cuban_Mami]

well.. as not to let this die.. this is one of my other favourite poems. it's a 100 line poem written by stephen king and you can find it in "skeleton crew"

Paranoid: A Chant

I can`t go out no more.
There`s a man by the door
in a raincoat
smoking a cigarette.

But

I`ve put him in my diary
and the mailers are all lined up
on the bed, bloody in the glow
of the bar sign next door.

He knows that if I die
(or even drop out of sight)
the diary goes and everyone knows
the CIA`s in Virginia.

500 mailers bought from
500 drug counters each one different
and 500 notebooks
with 500 pages in every one.

I am prepared

I can see him from up here.
His cigarette winks from just
above his trenchcoat collar
and somewhere there`s a man on a subway
sitting under a Black Velvet ad thinking my name.

Men have discussed me in back rooms.
If the phone rings there`s only dead breath.

In the bar across the street a snubnose
revolver has changed hands in the men`s room.
Each bullet has my name on it.
My name is written in back files
and looked up in newspaper morgues.

My mother`s been investigated;
thank God she`s dead.

They have writing samples
and examine the back loops of pees
and the crosses of tees.

My brother`s with them, did I tell you?
His wife is Russian and he
keeps asking me to fill out forms.
I have it in my diary.
Listen--
listen
do listen:
you must listen.

In the rain, at the bus stop,
black crows with black umbrellas
pretend to look at their watches, but
it`s not raining. Their eyes are silver dollars.
Some are scholars in the pay of the FBI
most are the foregneirs who pour through
our streets. I fooled them
got off the bus at 25th and Lex
where a cabby watched me over his newspaper.

In the room above me an old woman
has put an electric suction cup on her floor.
It sends out rays through my light fixture
and now I write in the dark
by the bar signs glow.

I tell you Iknow.

They sendt me a dog with brown spots
and a radio cobweb in its nose.
I drowned it in the sink and wrote it up
in floder GAMMA.

I don`t look in the mailbox anymore.
The greeting cards are letter-bombs.

(Step away! Goddam you!
Step away, I know tall people!
I tell you I know very tall people!)

The luncheonette is laid with talking floors
and the waitress says it was salt but I know arsenic
when it`s put before me. And the yellow taste of mustard
to mask the bitter odor of almonds.

I have seen strange lights in the sky.
Last night a dark man with no face crawled through nine
miles
of sewer to surface in my toilet, listening
for phone calls through the cheap wood with
chrome ears.
I tell you man, i hear.

I saw his muddy handprints
on the porcelain.

I don`t answer the phone now,
have I told you that?

They are planning to flood the earth with sludge.
They are planning break-ins.

They have got physicians
advocating weird sex positions.
They are making addictive laxatives
and suppositories that burn.
They know how to put out the sun
with blowguns.

I pack myself in ice - have I told you that?
It obviates their infrascopes.
I know chants and I wear charms.
You may think you have me but I could destroy you
any second now.

Any second now.

Any second now.

Would you like some coffee, my love?

Did I tell you I can`t go out no more?
There`s a man by the door
in a raincoat.

[theenglishman]

Black-Cuban_Mami wrote:

well.. as not to let this die.. this is one of my other favourite poems. it's a 100 line poem written by stephen king and you can find it in "skeleton crew"
Paranoid: A Chant
I can`t go out no more.
There`s a man by the door
in a raincoat
smoking a cigarette.
But
I`ve put him in my diary
and the mailers are all lined up
on the bed, bloody in the glow
of the bar sign next door.
He knows that if I die
(or even drop out of sight)
the diary goes and everyone knows
the CIA`s in Virginia.
500 mailers bought from
500 drug counters each one different
and 500 notebooks
with 500 pages in every one.
I am prepared
I can see him from up here.
His cigarette winks from just
above his trenchcoat collar
and somewhere there`s a man on a subway
sitting under a Black Velvet ad thinking my name.
Men have discussed me in back rooms.
If the phone rings there`s only dead breath.
In the bar across the street a snubnose
revolver has changed hands in the men`s room.
Each bullet has my name on it.
My name is written in back files
and looked up in newspaper morgues.
My mother`s been investigated;
thank God she`s dead.
They have writing samples
and examine the back loops of pees
and the crosses of tees.
My brother`s with them, did I tell you?
His wife is Russian and he
keeps asking me to fill out forms.
I have it in my diary.
Listen--
listen
do listen:
you must listen.
In the rain, at the bus stop,
black crows with black umbrellas
pretend to look at their watches, but
it`s not raining. Their eyes are silver dollars.
Some are scholars in the pay of the FBI
most are the foregneirs who pour through
our streets. I fooled them
got off the bus at 25th and Lex
where a cabby watched me over his newspaper.
In the room above me an old woman
has put an electric suction cup on her floor.
It sends out rays through my light fixture
and now I write in the dark
by the bar signs glow.
I tell you Iknow.
They sendt me a dog with brown spots
and a radio cobweb in its nose.
I drowned it in the sink and wrote it up
in floder GAMMA.
I don`t look in the mailbox anymore.
The greeting cards are letter-bombs.
(Step away! Goddam you!
Step away, I know tall people!
I tell you I know very tall people!)
The luncheonette is laid with talking floors
and the waitress says it was salt but I know arsenic
when it`s put before me. And the yellow taste of mustard
to mask the bitter odor of almonds.
I have seen strange lights in the sky.
Last night a dark man with no face crawled through nine
miles
of sewer to surface in my toilet, listening
for phone calls through the cheap wood with
chrome ears.
I tell you man, i hear.
I saw his muddy handprints
on the porcelain.
I don`t answer the phone now,
have I told you that?
They are planning to flood the earth with sludge.
They are planning break-ins.
They have got physicians
advocating weird sex positions.
They are making addictive laxatives
and suppositories that burn.
They know how to put out the sun
with blowguns.
I pack myself in ice - have I told you that?
It obviates their infrascopes.
I know chants and I wear charms.
You may think you have me but I could destroy you
any second now.
Any second now.
Any second now.
Would you like some coffee, my love?
Did I tell you I can`t go out no more?
There`s a man by the door
in a raincoat.

Thank you baby.

This meant alot to me.

Thanks again princess.

[theenglishman]

Eddy Smegma wrote:

The Lake Isle Of Innisfree
-William Butler Yeats
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, 5
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

Thanks for the poem, it was great.

[joe w]

Favorite poem or sonnet??

I do admire poetry.

The first ever sonnet I read was "Sonnet 18" by William Shakespeare(that's the name I know it by at least). I would have to say that is my favorite.
I always write poetry and songs.

I love Japanese Haiku poems. They are probably my favorite form of poetry.

[theenglishman]

joe w wrote:

Favorite poem or sonnet??
I do admire poetry.
The first ever sonnet I read was "Sonnet 18" by William Shakespeare(that's the name I know it by at least). I would have to say that is my favorite.
I always write poetry and songs.
I love Japanese Haiku poems. They are probably my favorite form of poetry.

Hi joe w,

I've never read any Japanese Haiku poems.

What are they like?

Can you put one on my thread so people can read it?

Thanks joe w.

[theenglishman]

Eddy Smegma wrote:

<quoted text>
Since I was a young kid, I've been smitten by the line:
"And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,"
Peace comes dropping slow. How true is that! War can come quickly, but peace comes dropping slow.

I agree that line does sound very good.

Do you have any other poems you would like to post?

If so please post them, i would love to read them.

[joe w]

theenglishman wrote:

<quoted text>
Hi joe w,
I've never read any Japanese Haiku poems.
What are they like?
Can you put one on my thread so people can read it?
Thanks joe w.

Haikus are very short. They are only three lines long. The first line has five syllables, the second line has seven syllables, and the third line has five again.

Here is an example:

The wind of Mt. Fuji
I've brought on my fan!
a gift from Edo
-Matsuo Basho

They are short and simple, that's part of the reason I like them.

I also like the poetry of Robert Frost.

[theenglishman]

joe w wrote:

<quoted text>
Haikus are very short. They are only three lines long. The first line has five syllables, the second line has seven syllables, and the third line has five again.
Here is an example:
The wind of Mt. Fuji
I've brought on my fan!
a gift from Edo
-Matsuo Basho
They are short and simple, that's part of the reason I like them.
I also like the poetry of Robert Frost.

That was pretty good.

Short but sweet.

Can you post a poem by Robert Frost?

That would be great.

[Tableux]

Okay, I know this poet is probably everyones fav poet, but I love his poems. Now this poem is by memory so please be kind. I think I might need some people to fill in the blanks.lol

Robert Frost:Stopping by the woods on a snowing evening.

Whos woods these are, I think I know
The house is in the village though
He will not see me stopping here
to watch his woods fill up with snow
My budding* horse must think it queer
to stop without a farmhouse near
between the snow* and frozen lakes
the darkest evening of the year
he gives his harness bells a shake
and ask if there is some mistake
the only sound* to sweep
the easy wind and downy flakes
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

Okay, those asterisk are there because I could'nt remeber some of the wording, so I guessed.

I also love his the Come In.

Hmmm I think I am going to post J Prurock......

[Tableux]

joe w wrote:

<quoted text>
Haikus are very short. They are only three lines long. The first line has five syllables, the second line has seven syllables, and the third line has five again.
Here is an example:
The wind of Mt. Fuji
I've brought on my fan!
a gift from Edo
-Matsuo Basho

HUH! I love Robert Frost poems. I don't know how I missed your post because I just posted a Frost poem.
They are short and simple, that's part of the reason I like them.
I also like the poetry of Robert Frost

[Tableux]

sorry*

[theenglishman]

Tableux wrote:

Okay, I know this poet is probably everyones fav poet, but I love his poems. Now this poem is by memory so please be kind. I think I might need some people to fill in the blanks.lol
Robert Frost:Stopping by the woods on a snowing evening.
Whos woods these are, I think I know
The house is in the village though
He will not see me stopping here
to watch his woods fill up with snow
My budding* horse must think it queer
to stop without a farmhouse near
between the snow* and frozen lakes
the darkest evening of the year
he gives his harness bells a shake
and ask if there is some mistake
the only sound* to sweep
the easy wind and downy flakes
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
Okay, those asterisk are there because I could'nt remeber some of the wording, so I guessed.
I also love his the Come In.
Hmmm I think I am going to post J Prurock......

Hi Tableux,

Thank you for your poem, it was beautiful.

Post some more poems if you can, that would be great.

Thanks again!!!