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What are your favourite poems?

Discussion in 'Personal' started by TES_Rosaline, Sep 13, 2019.

  1. Admin Princess

    Admin Princess Occasional commenter

    Said mother tern to baby tern,
    "Would you like a brother?"
    Said baby tern to mother tern,
    "Yes, one good tern deserves another."

    - Spike Milligan
  2. cassandramark2

    cassandramark2 Lead commenter

    I remember a very entertaining haiku thread on here around 2004.
    Aquamarina1234 likes this.
  3. gruoch

    gruoch Occasional commenter

    Well done to everyone who has broken copyright law.
  4. Norsemaid

    Norsemaid Lead commenter

    I like several poems from the 'A child's garden of verses ' by Robert Louis Stevenson .

    My favourite being 'My Shadow '

    MAGAorMIGA Star commenter

    "The Bread Man" and "Colonel Fazackerley" both by Charles Causley. I loved his poems, and had the great privilege to be taught by him.
    primarycat likes this.
  6. Jude Fawley

    Jude Fawley Star commenter

    These are some poems I typed out years ago. I found them on A4 in a box when I was sorting through things yesterday.

    'She Moved Through The Fair' Padraic Colum
    'Musee des Beaux Arts' W H Auden
    'The Lame Boy' Hermann Hesse
    'A Poor Scholar Of The Forties' Padraic Colum
    'Ronald Knox's Limerick' Ronald Knox

    And some 'Chinese Poems Of Enlightenment And Death'

    'Twenty years a pilgrim,
    Footing east, west.
    Back in Seiken,
    I've not moved an inch.'


    'Seventy-two years I've hung
    The karma mirror.
    Smashing through,
    I'm on the path.'


    'How Zennists carry on
    About the birthless!
    What madness makes me toll,
    At noon, the midnight bell?'

    NoseyMatronType likes this.
  7. sadscientist

    sadscientist Senior commenter

    Broadcast or copying for educational purposes is generally allowed. I can't see anyone falsely claiming authorship, or attempting to profit.
  8. sadscientist

    sadscientist Senior commenter

    I first heard this on Poetry Please R4 a few years ago. A modern Lakeland Romantic. I love it, I read it often and I wouldn't change a syllable.

    Nan Hardwicke Turns into a Hare – Wendy Pratt
    in memory of M

    I will tell you how it was. I slipped
    into the hare like a nude foot
    into a glorious slipper. Pushing her bones
    to one side to make room for my shape
    so I could settle like a child within her.
    In the dark I groped for her freedom, gently teasing
    it apart across my fingers to web across my palm.
    Here is where our separation ends:
    I tensed her legs with my arms, pushed my rhythm
    down the stepping-stones of spine. An odd feeling this,
    to hold another’s soul in the mouth like an egg;
    the aching jaw around her delicate self. Her mind
    was simple, full of open space and weather.
    I warmed myself on her frantic pulse and felt the draw
    of gorse and grass, the distant slate line
    at the edge of the moor. The air span diamonds
    out of sea fret to catch across my tawny coat
    as I began to fold the earth beneath my feet
    and fly across the heath, the heather.
  9. Aquamarina1234

    Aquamarina1234 Star commenter

    What is my favourite poem?
    I’ll think of a good one – I’ll show ‘em
    So I thunk and I thank
    But my mind has gone blank
    It’s time I was put in a ho-em.
  10. Aquamarina1234

    Aquamarina1234 Star commenter

    I always liked this one but it’s a bit unfashionable now.

    The Soldier

    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 England bore, shaped, made aware,
    Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;
    A body of England’s, breathing English air,
    Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

    And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
    A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
    Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
    Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
    And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
    In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

    In one of my regular unoccupied periods at work I re-jigged it.

    If I should die, think only this of me
    That there’s some corner of a school in Leeds
    That is forever sticky. The ooze shall be
    In that rich carpet left for years and years;
    An ooze that came from Worker: bored to death
    But having lots of fun now decomposing.
    The site staff really will have to come in
    And give this sticky floor a right good hosing.

    I like almost everything by John Donne.
    caress and cassandramark2 like this.
  11. Dodros

    Dodros Star commenter

    Dare to be different...

    The Road Not Taken

    By Robert Frost

    Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
    And sorry I could not travel both
    And be one traveler, long I stood
    And looked down one as far as I could
    To where it bent in the undergrowth;

    Then took the other, as just as fair,
    And having perhaps the better claim,
    Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
    Though as for that the passing there
    Had worn them really about the same,

    And both that morning equally lay
    In leaves no step had trodden black.
    Oh, I kept the first for another day!
    Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
    I doubted if I should ever come back.

    I shall be telling this with a sigh
    Somewhere ages and ages hence:
    Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
    I took the one less traveled by,
    And that has made all the difference.
  12. Andy_91

    Andy_91 New commenter

    φαίνεταί μοι κῆνος ἴσος θέοισιν ἔμμεν' ὤνηρ, ὄττις ἐνάντιός τοι ἰσδάνει καὶ πλάσιον ἆδυ φωνεί- σας ὐπακούει
    καὶ γελαίσας ἰμέροεν, τό μ' ἦ μὰν καρδίαν ἐν στήθεσιν ἐπτόαισεν·
    ὠς γὰρ <ἔς> σ' ἴδω βρόχε' ὤς με φώνη- σ' οὐδ' ἒν ἔτ' εἴκει,
    ἀλλά καμ μὲν γλῶσσα ἔαγε, λέπτον
    δ' αὔτικα χρῷι πῦρ ὐπαδεδρόμακεν, ὀππάτεσσι δ' οὐδ' ἒν ὄρημμ', ἐπιρρόμ- μεισι δ' ἄκουαι,
    έκαδέ μ' ἴδρως κακχέεται, τρόμος δὲ παῖσαν ἄγρει, χλωροτέρα δὲ ποίας ἔμμι, τεθνάκην δ' ὀλίγω 'πιδεύης φαίνομ' ἔμ' αὔται.
    ἀλλὰ τὰν τόλματον, ἐπεὶ καὶ πένητα
    MAGAorMIGA likes this.
  13. Aquamarina1234

    Aquamarina1234 Star commenter

  14. FrankWolley

    FrankWolley Star commenter

    Walked past The Old Vicarage at Granchester this morning... There is a fine statue of Brooke in the front courtyard. Granchester looked especially beautiful today BTW.
  15. Dodros

    Dodros Star commenter

  16. ilovesooty

    ilovesooty Star commenter

    To Althea, from Prison

    When Love with unconfinèd wings
    Hovers within my Gates,
    And my divine Althea brings
    To whisper at the Grates;
    When I lie tangled in her hair,
    And fettered to her eye,
    The Gods that wanton in the Air,
    Know no such Liberty.

    When flowing Cups run swiftly round
    With no allaying Thames,
    Our careless heads with Roses bound,
    Our hearts with Loyal Flames;
    When thirsty grief in Wine we steep,
    When Healths and draughts go free,
    Fishes that tipple in the Deep
    Know no such Liberty.

    When (like committed linnets) I
    With shriller throat shall sing
    The sweetness, Mercy, Majesty,
    And glories of my King;
    When I shall voice aloud how good
    He is, how Great should be,
    Enlargèd Winds, that curl the Flood,
    Know no such Liberty.

    Stone Walls do not a Prison make,
    Nor Iron bars a Cage;
    Minds innocent and quiet take
    That for an Hermitage.
    If I have freedom in my Love,
    And in my soul am free,
    Angels alone that soar above,
    Enjoy such Liberty.
    mothorchid and Aquamarina1234 like this.
  17. ilovesooty

    ilovesooty Star commenter

    'This be the verse'

    They **** you up, your mum and dad.
    They may not mean to, but they do.
    They fill you with the faults they had
    And add some extra, just for you.

    But they were ****** up in their turn
    By fools in old-style hats and coats,
    Who half the time were soppy-stern
    And half at one another's throats.

    Man hands on misery to man.
    It deepens like a coastal shelf.
    Get out as early as you can,
    And don't have any kids yourself.

    Philip Larkin
  18. BertieBassett2

    BertieBassett2 Star commenter

    Mending Wall by Robert Frost (how apt is ‘Good fences make Good Neighbours’) and Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll. Spike Milligan’s poems are entertaining, as are Brian Bilson’s.
  19. NoseyMatronType

    NoseyMatronType Star commenter

  20. FrankWolley

    FrankWolley Star commenter

    Now I'm home, I can properly contribute to this thread... Though BigFrank beat me to selecting a poem I've always liked ("Questions from a worker who reads" - post #4), as have Jude ( W H Auden 'Musee des Beaux Arts'), Dodros (Robert Frost 'The Road Not Taken') & Ilovesooty (Philp Larkin 'This be the Verse').

    One of the poems I always return to (with a text in the public domain!) is this one:

    Percy Shelley 'Oxymandias'

    I met a traveller from an antique land
    Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
    Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
    Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
    And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
    Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
    Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
    The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
    And on the pedestal these words appear:
    'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
    Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
    Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
    Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
    The lone and level sands stretch far away.
    Dodros likes this.

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