I'm curious...with all the poets here, what are your favorite poems and poets? I read a lot of poetry in college and would love to get back into it. I thought this would be a great place to ask about popular poets and favorite poems. I'll start off with one of my favorites. One poem that sticks in my mind is by Emily Dickinson and I discovered it as a teen.

"Ample make this Bed-
Make this Bed with Awe-
In it, wait till Judgement break.
Excellent and Fair.

Be its Mattress straight-
Be its pillow round-
Let no Sunrise' yellow noise
Interrupt this Ground-"

I was reminded of my "love affair" with this poem when I recently saw the film "Sophie's Choice" which, btw, I'd recommend to everyone as a fabulous film! They close the film with a reading of this poem and it is amazing to me how differently I interpret the poem at the ripe old age of 33, as opposed to what I thought of it as a teen. Okay, your turns- what are your favorite poems and/or poets?

[ May 28, 2002, 06:56 AM: Message edited by: thaliajen ]

ah Dickinson...
If I had not seen the Sun
I could have borne the shade.
but Light, a newer Wilderness
my Wilderness has made.


favorite poem, eh? that's tough, like naming one favorite song. i'd have to say that Christabel, by Samuel T. Coleridge, ranks very highly up there for me. it has intrigue, jealousy, complicity, subtextual sexual tension, and general spooky weirdness. but my all-time fave? probably Lines Composed a Few Mile Above Tintern Abbey, by William Wordsworth. here's my favorite part:

...May I behold in thee what I was once,
My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make,
Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
And let the misty mountain-winds be free
To blow against thee: and, in after years,
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance--
If I should be where I no more can hear
Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
Of past existence--wilt thou then forget
That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together; and that I, so long
A worshipper of Nature, hither came
Unwearied in that service: rather say
With warmer love--oh! with far deeper zeal
Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget,
That after many wanderings, many years
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs,
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!

[ May 28, 2002, 09:45 AM: Message edited by: puppy love ]

Love this topic! Sits by and watches as things unfold.

Lord Byron. His work is both beautiful and moving. The piece below has definitely meant a lot to me over the past year:

"When we two parted"


When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow --
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me --
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well: --
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met --
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee? --
With silence and tears.

-- George Gordon, Lord Byron, 1815

Impossible to narrow it down to one poem... or even ten.

Ok, to get the predictable part out of the way before groaning floods the premises:
Shakespeare. The Sonnets. Always got a small copy with me. I'd sooner forget to take an umbrella on storm-ridden days.

***

I love E.E.Cummings. Especially the following one always gets me, no matter what. One of the most beautiful pieces I have EVER found ANYWHERE.
(Only reading it doesn't do it a fraction of justice. It should be HEARD spoken by someone who knows what they're doing, but what the hey - better than nothing.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
- touching skilfully,mysteriously - her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

***

Oh, and I've got a secret soft spot for the romantics. Especially W. B. Yeats, Coleridge, some Byron, Keats and Tennyson (including the paintings Burne Jones did for some of T's works. That's another bold confession. I'm a sucker for the Pre Raffaelites )

***

There's more 'o course. Emily Dickinson, Ezra Pound (before the stupid git joined the Mussolini admirer's brigade. Intelligence never prevented stupidity, I s'pose.), T. S. Eliot, W. H. Auden, Wilfred Owen's war poems and Heathcote Williams spring urgently to mind.

****

I've stuck to the English speaking poets, but other favs like Ovid, E.T.A Hoffmann, Heine, Theodor Storm and Paul Celan should at least be mentioned.

unfocused
The Xenatizer

Hey, I like this topic.

Hmm... what's my favorite poems/poets? Well, to be honest...and I am not trying to suck up to any of you...but my favorite poets are right here on this forum. We've got some mighty talented people here that I just adore. I won't name names 'cause hey, I don't wanna receive some nasty PM 'cause I didn't mention somebody ... but yeah, you guys are my faves. And so in the same respect, some of my fave poems are from you guys (and yes, I have saved some of those)... but I won't put those up of course.

Instead, I'd say this is one of my favorite poems -- when I read this post, I thought immediately "I have to put this one up there" - I love it that much. My ex-best friend sent it to me, and well, to be honest, I can't tell if she wrote it or if she got it off a site...I'd say prolly off a site though...so consider it "unknown" at this point. But it's a wonderful poem that I love, so here ya go.

~Gabber
==========

"The Heart Behind Those Eyes"

You look away- that smile dies
You're so confused- I hear your cries.
You try to explain- you try to believe
You know what to do- you try to leave.

Every word you say- strangles my heart
I try not to break- not to fall apart.
I just want to grab you- and make you see
This heart you own- inside of me.

Just turn around- as Happiness dies
Show me the Heart... behind those eyes.
I want to see- I need to know
The way it looks- before you go.

The words you say- conflict with the beat
I look through your eyes- so warm and sweet.
You want to stay- so, please, don't go
You're killing me- but I'll try not to show.

I want to sleep- inside your soul
You make me complete- you make me whole.
The beautiful rose- once proud to bloom
Now shedding it's petals- on top of Love's tomb.

I sit in the dark- with so many "Why's"
Just show me the Heart... behind those eyes.
Let me see- that dream we shared
Comfort me- I'm torn and scared.

I feel your tears- it's starting to rain
I lose myself- through all the pain.
I'm begging for you- just do this for me
Walk up to a mirror- so you can see.

Is anything left?- Is something alive?
Left there to struggle- while you take five?
Look deep inside- you know it's there
Under the smile- you use to wear.

Listen real close- to Love that cries...
Listen to the Heart... behind those eyes.

---unknown

Just like Gabber I´d have to say that I´ve read my favorite poems here in this forum. Some of you poets out there are sooo talented - it´s just amazing!

I have some favorite Scroller-Poets: Seraphin and Linxi, Gabber and mons.

One of my fav poem ever was written by Linxi and is called "Disappointed"! I´m not gonna post it without her permission though.

I was looking through this old poem/story/quotes book I'd written my fave things in a couple of years ago, and I found a poem that I remembered as always being one of my favorites. (I found another one too that's one of my faves, but I thought maybe I'd save that for later, as not to overwhelm you with length here. ) But I thought maybe I'd share, I've always liked the points that come across in this poem (lol, although I'm not sure about the "please don't promise me forever" line, I kinda like a forever thank you), but it was a good thing for me to read today. So here ya go...

~Gabber
============

"Please Don't Promise Me Forever"

Please don't promise me forever.
I want us to love each other one day at a time...
And string all those days together like the precious things they are...
Instead of trying too hard or promising too much.

Please, don't expect me to always be good and kind and loving.
There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.
But it will only be because of the weather or the flu or one of my moods...
Not because I love you less. Please remember that.

Please don't think about all the things that could happen to us.
Please don't think about other people coming between us.
Don't think about all the good things that could happen to us.
Think of growing closer to each other, finding new reasons for being together...
And think of loving. I will too, I am right now.

Please, don't get mad at me if I forget your birthday or some other special day we share...
And please remember that there is an "everydayness" about what we have that is beyond birthdays and anniversaries.
That's why, sometimes, I may not remember one special day...
Because all our days are special to me.

Please, don't sign a letter "as ever."
Please don't be too easy on me...
Or expect me to be too easy on you.
Both of us have room to grow, and both of us have to grow if we want to hold each other's love.
Please don't ever give me too much of yourself or take too much of me.
In our togetherness we still need our private places.
Please listen to me when I'm talking to you...
And please don't ever think of someone else as I kiss you.

Please don't start an argument or make me look foolish in front of other people...
But when we're alone, don't feel like you're walking on eggs.
Go ahead and say what you think. If I need telling off, tell me off.
Then we have our fight, make up, and love again. Just us.

Please, remember to call me sometimes for no reason except that you feel me thinking about you, needing your voice.
Please don't ever lose that laugh of yours - it's such a real laugh.
And never change the way you brush my hair back from my eyes
And smile when I'm trying to be very serious...
Or the little odd ways you have of saying things that make you "you", one of a kind, the one I love.

Please let's not use politeness and busyness and silence to avoid our problems and the places where we hurt.
If something is wrong, let's go after it, and make it right.
It's a good feeling to think of growing older with you, but please, let's not ever grow old.
I want us to always hang on to the newness that we have right now.
And let's never be ashamed of our innocence, of the child within us.
Let's never give up our dreams.

Please don't try to keep it from me when you're feeling down,
I'll never be able to share your joy if you try to protect me from your sadness.
Please don't ever say never...
And please don't promise me forever.
All that I ask is that you love me now.
And please know that I love you more today than I ever have before.
I can't promise you forever, but I can promise you today with the hope and belief that there is a beautiful tomorrow in store for us.

---unknown

[ May 30, 2002, 07:55 PM: Message edited by: Gabber ]

These are awesome. Keep em coming!

All time favorite poem : The Conqueror Worm by Edgar Allan Poe

All time favorite poet: Linxi

Hmmm, good question, good topic. I'm totally a t.s. girl. And I love Dylan Thomas...some good stuff there.

My all time favorite poem is actually, and this is so embarrassing to admit, a small poem one of my younger sisters wrote me, about how she thought I was a good big sister. Wasn't cause it was about me, more like it was that she thought enough about me to write about it. Oh and I kinda have a thing for this one poem Keri wrote me...but it's a private kinda thing, sorry.

when i first heard this on an lp many moons
ago, i rushed out to buy a copy of the Sonnets.
how did i miss out on it so long?!?!

Shakespeare's Sonnet XXIX

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deal heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

Portrait of a Lady (1917)
by T.S. Eliot


Thou hast committed—
Fornication: but that was in another country,
And besides, the wench is dead.
The Jew of Malta.



I

AMONG the smoke and fog of a December afternoon
You have the scene arrange itself—as it will seem to do—
With “I have saved this afternoon for you”;
And four wax candles in the darkened room,
Four rings of light upon the ceiling overhead,
An atmosphere of Juliet’s tomb
Prepared for all the things to be said, or left unsaid.
We have been, let us say, to hear the latest Pole
Transmit the Preludes, through his hair and fingertips.
“So intimate, this Chopin, that I think his soul
Should be resurrected only among friends
Some two or three, who will not touch the bloom
That is rubbed and questioned in the concert room.”
—And so the conversation slips
Among velleities and carefully caught regrets
Through attenuated tones of violins
Mingled with remote cornets
And begins.

“You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends,
And how, how rare and strange it is, to find
In a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends,
[For indeed I do not love it … you knew? you are not blind!
How keen you are!]
To find a friend who has these qualities,
Who has, and gives
Those qualities upon which friendship lives.
How much it means that I say this to you—
Without these friendships—life, what cauchemar!”

Among the windings of the violins
And the ariettes
Of cracked cornets
Inside my brain a dull tom-tom begins
Absurdly hammering a prelude of its own,
Capricious monotone
That is at least one definite “false note.”
—Let us take the air, in a tobacco trance,
Admire the monuments,
Discuss the late events,
Correct our watches by the public clocks.
Then sit for half an hour and drink our bocks.

II

Now that lilacs are in bloom
She has a bowl of lilacs in her room
And twists one in his fingers while she talks.
“Ah, my friend, you do not know, you do not know
What life is, you who hold it in your hands”;
(Slowly twisting the lilac stalks)
“You let it flow from you, you let it flow,
And youth is cruel, and has no remorse
And smiles at situations which it cannot see.”
I smile, of course,
And go on drinking tea.
“Yet with these April sunsets, that somehow recall
My buried life, and Paris in the Spring,
I feel immeasurably at peace, and find the world
To be wonderful and youthful, after all.”

The voice returns like the insistent out-of-tune
Of a broken violin on an August afternoon:
“I am always sure that you understand
My feelings, always sure that you feel,
Sure that across the gulf you reach your hand.

You are invulnerable, you have no Achilles’ heel.
You will go on, and when you have prevailed
You can say: at this point many a one has failed.

But what have I, but what have I, my friend,
To give you, what can you receive from me?
Only the friendship and the sympathy
Of one about to reach her journey’s end.

I shall sit here, serving tea to friends….”

I take my hat: how can I make a cowardly amends
For what she has said to me?
You will see me any morning in the park
Reading the comics and the sporting page.
Particularly I remark
An English countess goes upon the stage.
A Greek was murdered at a Polish dance,
Another bank defaulter has confessed.
I keep my countenance,
I remain self-possessed
Except when a street piano, mechanical and tired
Reiterates some worn-out common song
With the smell of hyacinths across the garden
Recalling things that other people have desired.
Are these ideas right or wrong?

III

The October night comes down; returning as before
Except for a slight sensation of being ill at ease
I mount the stairs and turn the handle of the door
And feel as if I had mounted on my hands and knees.
“And so you are going abroad; and when do you return?
But that’s a useless question.
You hardly know when you are coming back,
You will find so much to learn.”
My smile falls heavily among the bric-à-brac.

“Perhaps you can write to me.”
My self-possession flares up for a second;
This is as I had reckoned.
“I have been wondering frequently of late
(But our beginnings never know our ends!)
Why we have not developed into friends.”
I feel like one who smiles, and turning shall remark
Suddenly, his expression in a glass.
My self-possession gutters; we are really in the dark.

“For everybody said so, all our friends,
They all were sure our feelings would relate
So closely! I myself can hardly understand.
We must leave it now to fate.
You will write, at any rate.
Perhaps it is not too late.
I shall sit here, serving tea to friends.”

And I must borrow every changing shape
To find expression … dance, dance
Like a dancing bear,
Cry like a parrot, chatter like an ape.
Let us take the air, in a tobacco trance—

Well! and what if she should die some afternoon,
Afternoon grey and smoky, evening yellow and rose;
Should die and leave me sitting pen in hand
With the smoke coming down above the housetops;
Doubtful, for a while
Not knowing what to feel or if I understand
Or whether wise or foolish, tardy or too soon…
Would she not have the advantage, after all?
This music is successful with a “dying fall”
Now that we talk of dying—
And should I have the right to smile?

Hmm... I don't really read much poetry hehe shock horror! But I do have two fave poems ever, I don't remember who wrote them, as her site suddenly disappeared and I haven't been able to find it since! I did manage to keep these poems on my 'puter tho...

ANGELUS
Hell's fire in damned eyes
Predator's smirk in smoothly told lies
Innocence tonight it dies
Damning fire in my cries.

Exist tonight together let's be
Alone for one night, and you'll betray me.

Lover's body lover's tongue
Once more Satan's bell hath rung
Stars in shimmering night they hung
Be my demon body sung.

Obsidian in ivory
You'll die this night along with me.

I'll give myself in whole to you
Being done cannot undo
Burning evil this night made new
And be damned the ages through.

Crimson bathes my vision clear
Rest sweet world but filled with fear.

Shedding battles for what's right
Arm in arm with darkness bright
Exit goodness be gone the light
The Slayer's come to stalk the night.

------------------------

GOODBYE
One final word could not express
The chilling ache of our loneliness
As I leave I left us broken
And our words went unspoken
Our eyes said more than our hearts could bear
That very same thought, that we didnt dare
Stop to watch one last time, just a moment or two
And then I must go, and then it is through.

In that moment my heart beat as one with your own
In that moment I knew we were together alone,
I felt my life leaving yet didnt hold back
I loved you forever as life faded to black
That first time I saw you I thought was the end
I never imagined a lover, a friend
A person whod send me to hell and then back
Without you Im hollow, youre the piece that I lack.

We set aside a love of ages
Each aching to escape the cages
In which wed bound each other apart
Hoping each would have the heart
To stay away from those painted bars
And give life time to heal the scars
But as I walked away, neither could I lie
That what I wouldve said was I love you, and not Goodbye.

This has always been one of my faves...but it seems very fitting for me the last two days, exactly the person I'm trying not to be- the one who hides. I think I'm actually not hiding for once though. So hopefully you all will be able to enjoy, it's poignant.

~Gabber
============

"Please Hear What I'm Not Saying"

Don't be fooled by me
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
For I wear masks, a thousand masks
masks that I'm afraid to take off,
and none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature to me,
but don't be fooled.
For God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure,
that confidence is my name and coolness is my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command,
and that I need no one.
But don't believe me.
My surface may seem smooth but my surface
is my mask, ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion and fear and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it.

I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade, to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation.
My only hope, and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
from my own self-built prison walls,
from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me
of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
I don't like to hide.
I don't like to play superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and sponataneous and me,
but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes
that bland stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.

Each time you're kind and gentle and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings, very small wings,
very feeble wings,
but wings!
With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
Who I am, you may wonder.
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet,
and every woman you meet.

---unknown