My favorite poets
- Thread starter Recidiva
- Start date
Darkest Lord
What the fuck!!!!
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- Dec 20, 2004
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- 1,825
Recidiva said:
Don't be so harsh on yourself.
scrymettet
Silly chocolate angel
- Joined
- Oct 11, 2001
- Posts
- 24,043
perks said:
already, you forgot ?
@}-}rebecca----
not enough discipline ...
- Joined
- Oct 31, 2005
- Posts
- 13,063
Hello Miss Recidiva............smiles.....long time never see....
I hope this is acceptable
One of my favorites is Maya Angelou
Still I Rise
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 back yard.
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.
I hope this is acceptable
One of my favorites is Maya Angelou
Still I Rise
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 back yard.
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.
@}-}rebecca----
not enough discipline ...
- Joined
- Oct 31, 2005
- Posts
- 13,063
Recidiva said:
laughsmiles......... my pleasure
Recidiva
Harastal
- Joined
- Sep 3, 2005
- Posts
- 89,726
"If"
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!
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!
By Rudyard Kipling
perks
sarcasduck ruffleslut
- Joined
- May 20, 2001
- Posts
- 40,901
all my words are less because you see them
alliteration, structure, and the rest
perhaps I pushed you further with my test
when I threw a pig, this priceless gem
My wisdom is quite faceted it’s true
learned solely from my hard and traveled road
pure parts of pain, my educated load
The bruises on my flesh were all for you
I somehow thought that this was what you knew
assuming that you knew the poet’s code
and so, it seems, my theory is quite flawed
filled only with a skewed and fractured view
of who you were and promise that you showed
inside your dark and dirty world of fraud
you’re the ruined apple in this system
a rotten spot that’s damaging our best
and thinking that you’re flawless, that’s the jest
possibly the problem’s with your brain stem
genetic failings father your facade
and any cure for you, an act of God
alliteration, structure, and the rest
perhaps I pushed you further with my test
when I threw a pig, this priceless gem
My wisdom is quite faceted it’s true
learned solely from my hard and traveled road
pure parts of pain, my educated load
The bruises on my flesh were all for you
I somehow thought that this was what you knew
assuming that you knew the poet’s code
and so, it seems, my theory is quite flawed
filled only with a skewed and fractured view
of who you were and promise that you showed
inside your dark and dirty world of fraud
you’re the ruined apple in this system
a rotten spot that’s damaging our best
and thinking that you’re flawless, that’s the jest
possibly the problem’s with your brain stem
genetic failings father your facade
and any cure for you, an act of God
Recidiva
Harastal
- Joined
- Sep 3, 2005
- Posts
- 89,726
Invictus
by William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
by William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
Batch
Airship Captain
- Joined
- Jan 22, 2002
- Posts
- 52,619
pied beauty
glory be to god (or goddess) for dappled things--
for skies of couple colour as a brinded cow;
for rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
fresh firecoal chestnut falls; finches wings;
landscapes plotted and pierced-- fold, fallow, and plough;
and all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
all things counter, original, spare, strange;
whatever is fickle, freckled (who know how?)
with swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers forth whose beauty is past change:
praise him.
~Gerard Manley Hopkins
glory be to god (or goddess) for dappled things--
for skies of couple colour as a brinded cow;
for rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
fresh firecoal chestnut falls; finches wings;
landscapes plotted and pierced-- fold, fallow, and plough;
and all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
all things counter, original, spare, strange;
whatever is fickle, freckled (who know how?)
with swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers forth whose beauty is past change:
praise him.
~Gerard Manley Hopkins
Recidiva
Harastal
- Joined
- Sep 3, 2005
- Posts
- 89,726
Ithaca
When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon -- do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.
Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.
Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.
Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.
Constantine P. Cavafy
When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon -- do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.
Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.
Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.
Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.
Constantine P. Cavafy
Byron In Exile
Frederick Fucking Chopin
- Joined
- May 3, 2002
- Posts
- 66,591
Sylvia Plath: Mad Girl's Love Song
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
gravyrug
Jesus for Weird People
- Joined
- May 10, 2003
- Posts
- 22,830
My favorite verse from my favorite poem:
They roused him with muffins -- they roused him with ice --
They roused him with mustard and cress --
They roused him with jam and judicious advice --
They set him conundrums to guess.
When at length he sat up and was able to speak,
His sad story he offered to tell;
And the Bellman cried "Silence! Not even a shriek!"
And excitedly tingled his bell.
There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream,
Scarcely even a howl or a groan,
As the man they called "Ho!" told his story of woe
In an antediluvian tone.
"My father and mother were honest, though poor -- "
"Skip all that!" cried the Bellman in haste.
"If it once becomes dark, there's no chance of a Snark --
We have hardly a minute to waste!"
"I skip forty years," said the Baker, in tears,
"And proceed without further remark
To the day when you took me aboard of your ship
To help you in hunting the Snark.
"A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was named)
Remarked, when I bade him farewell -- "
"Oh, skip your dear uncle!" the Bellman exclaimed,
As he angrily tingled his bell.
"He remarked to me then," said that mildest of men,
"`If your Snark be a Snark, that is right:
Fetch it home by all means -- you may serve it with greens,
And it's handy for striking a light.
"`You may seek it with thimbles -- and seek it with care;
You may hunt it with forks and hope;
You may threaten its life with a railway-share;
You may charm it with smiles and soap -- '"
("That's exactly the method," the Bellman bold
In a hasty parenthesis cried,
"That's exactly the way I have always been told
That the capture of Snarks should be tried!")
"`But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,
If your Snark be a Boojum! For then
You will softly and suddenly vanish away,
And never be met with again!'
They roused him with muffins -- they roused him with ice --
They roused him with mustard and cress --
They roused him with jam and judicious advice --
They set him conundrums to guess.
When at length he sat up and was able to speak,
His sad story he offered to tell;
And the Bellman cried "Silence! Not even a shriek!"
And excitedly tingled his bell.
There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream,
Scarcely even a howl or a groan,
As the man they called "Ho!" told his story of woe
In an antediluvian tone.
"My father and mother were honest, though poor -- "
"Skip all that!" cried the Bellman in haste.
"If it once becomes dark, there's no chance of a Snark --
We have hardly a minute to waste!"
"I skip forty years," said the Baker, in tears,
"And proceed without further remark
To the day when you took me aboard of your ship
To help you in hunting the Snark.
"A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was named)
Remarked, when I bade him farewell -- "
"Oh, skip your dear uncle!" the Bellman exclaimed,
As he angrily tingled his bell.
"He remarked to me then," said that mildest of men,
"`If your Snark be a Snark, that is right:
Fetch it home by all means -- you may serve it with greens,
And it's handy for striking a light.
"`You may seek it with thimbles -- and seek it with care;
You may hunt it with forks and hope;
You may threaten its life with a railway-share;
You may charm it with smiles and soap -- '"
("That's exactly the method," the Bellman bold
In a hasty parenthesis cried,
"That's exactly the way I have always been told
That the capture of Snarks should be tried!")
"`But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,
If your Snark be a Boojum! For then
You will softly and suddenly vanish away,
And never be met with again!'
gman23
Amateur Gynecologist
- Joined
- Dec 7, 2003
- Posts
- 20,601
Trojan woman weep by the grave
of the men that they couldn't save
Cassandra's callin and it wont be long
we are gonna take this whole thing home
Take you home, take you home
Take you home, take you home
Aggamemnon sailed to sea
looking for blood and victory
said he went for Helen, i know its not true
pretty soon he's comin' for you
Take you home, take you home
Take you home, take you home
Longinus pierced the saviors breast
Ceasers army's wore an eagle crest
Dubyas got his new world order
and i'm a knockin, knockin on your door
Take you home, take you home
Take you home, take you home
my name is legion
you can hear me roar
I am a knockin on your door
i see 4 riders and whats in store
Fear, death, pestilence and war
Take you home, take you home
Take you home, take you home
From the plowshares beat in to swords
sown to salt and just rewards
when the seas all turn to glass
Thay tell me too this will pass
Trojan woman weep by the grave
of the world that they couldn't save
of the men that they couldn't save
Cassandra's callin and it wont be long
we are gonna take this whole thing home
Take you home, take you home
Take you home, take you home
Aggamemnon sailed to sea
looking for blood and victory
said he went for Helen, i know its not true
pretty soon he's comin' for you
Take you home, take you home
Take you home, take you home
Longinus pierced the saviors breast
Ceasers army's wore an eagle crest
Dubyas got his new world order
and i'm a knockin, knockin on your door
Take you home, take you home
Take you home, take you home
my name is legion
you can hear me roar
I am a knockin on your door
i see 4 riders and whats in store
Fear, death, pestilence and war
Take you home, take you home
Take you home, take you home
From the plowshares beat in to swords
sown to salt and just rewards
when the seas all turn to glass
Thay tell me too this will pass
Trojan woman weep by the grave
of the world that they couldn't save
