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Favourite poems

32 replies

Readitandsleep · 15/09/2018 22:38

Only type of thread I know how to start, favourite lines of poetry. Love hearing new lines and the reasons that make them important to others.

Will start with this

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

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sproutsandparsnips · 15/09/2018 22:56

That's beautiful OP - I can't really say why, it's just very evocative.
Can't think of any I'm afraid off the top of my head except:
This is the night mail crossing the border
Bringing the cheque and the postal order
Blush

70isaLimitNotaTarget · 15/09/2018 22:59

Mid-Term Break
BY SEAMUS HEANEY
I sat all morning in the college sick bay
Counting bells knelling classes to a close.
At two o'clock our neighbours drove me home.

In the porch I met my father crying—
He had always taken funerals in his stride—
And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.

The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
When I came in, and I was embarrassed
By old men standing up to shake my hand

And tell me they were 'sorry for my trouble'.
Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
Away at school, as my mother held my hand

In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.
At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived
With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.

Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him
For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,

Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple,
He lay in the four-foot box as in his cot.
No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.

A four-foot box, a foot for every year.

LanguidLobster · 15/09/2018 22:59

Far too many and it's late at night so I'll probably quote incorrectly, but I always loved Maya Angelou:

I couldn't tell fact from fiction
Or if my dream was true
My only sure prediction
In this whole world was you

Interested in this thread?

Then you might like threads about this subject:

Readitandsleep · 15/09/2018 23:00

I love that one sprouts, extra special because it has the rythym of a train.

My husband is Irish and every year we buy the Irish poets calendar when we head back from the Christmas trip. The quotes are always beautiful.

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Readitandsleep · 15/09/2018 23:09

70 that poem is such beautiful heart felt poetry. So sad & heartfelt. As hard as it is Heaney gets the sense of bewilderment and loss, and shock. He’s a genius.

I’m a massive Maya fan lobster. Hoping for a third baby and Maya is favourite girl name.

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LanguidLobster · 15/09/2018 23:15

@Readitandsleep best wishes for third baby (possibly girl!)

I always loved Tennyson in memorium

That men may rise on stepping stones
Of their dead selves to higher things

And Alfred J. Profrock and the art of losing.

Readitandsleep · 15/09/2018 23:19

Thanks lobster crossing my fingers... girl optional, have two already. Either would be good.

I love lines that make you read them again and again... that Tennyson did. Will look up Profrock. I’ve only started three threads before and they’ve all been poetry based, I’ve read such lovely things. Thank you!

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JustlikeDevon · 15/09/2018 23:19

There is an very beautiful poem that the internet is not helping on. It's by Anna akhmatova, a Russian poet. The fact I cant link it, or type in Cyrillic, renders it useless. But if you like a bit of poetry, check her out!

TheMarbleFaun · 15/09/2018 23:21

Many, many favourite poems but this one is currently very relevant to me
Everything is Going to be All Right by Derek Mahon

How should I not be glad to contemplate
the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window
and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?
There will be dying, there will be dying,
but there is no need to go into that.
The poems flow from the hand unbidden
and the hidden source is the watchful heart.
The sun rises in spite of everything
and the far cities are beautiful and bright.
I lie here in a riot of sunlight
watching the day break and the clouds flying.
Everything is going to be all right.

Readitandsleep · 15/09/2018 23:23

Thank you Devon I will. Love you’re user name.

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Readitandsleep · 15/09/2018 23:26

Marble that’s wonderful & I hope whatever has made it relevant to you is getting better.

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JaneJeffer · 15/09/2018 23:34

Where My Books Go by W.B. Yeats

All the words that I utter,
And all the words that I write,
Must spread out their wings untiring,
And never rest in their flight,
Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
And sing to you in the night,
Beyond where the waters are moving,
Storm-darken’d or starry bright

TheMarbleFaun · 15/09/2018 23:34

Thank you Readit Flowers
I think it's full of hope and what he's basically saying is that things are going to be alright no matter what
I love poetry!

Mammysin · 15/09/2018 23:44

Anois teacher an Earraig
Beidh an lá day cois síne

And

Every woman adores a fascist
A boot in the face...

A blind Irish man and Sylvia Plath oh and Tennyson's Lady of Shalott...

Readitandsleep · 15/09/2018 23:49

Yeats is just brilliant Jane. Language is so beautiful. Really enjoyed reading that. I’m a numbers person and my writing is less is more, I just love seeing that use of words.

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Mammysin · 15/09/2018 23:53

So happy that Irish poets are here... Mahon, Heaney and Yeats. I love Kinsella, Kavanagh , Muldoon and Durcan too 😍

LanguidLobster · 15/09/2018 23:54

I close my eyes and all the world drops dead
I think I made you up inside my head

(Sylvia Plath)

Love poetry, it's like putting prose to music. I like tightly knitted verse, a friend sent me a copy of her poems this week which has just been published, I'm struggling with it a bit as it's extremely unstructured, I'd like to sit down with her and have her explain what it meant to her so I can understand it better

DoctorTwo · 16/09/2018 00:03

Pretty much anything by John Cooper Clarke, but Pies is probably my favourite.

Readitandsleep · 16/09/2018 00:08

Mammysin I’m wondering if there’s any such thing as a non Irish poet?

And then lobster that Sylvia Plath is great.

How do people do it.. two lines that say everything.

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Readitandsleep · 16/09/2018 00:12

Thanks Doctor I will look in the morning. My two year old is awake now and I don’t think listening will help much.

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Maelstrop · 16/09/2018 00:12

Roger McGough
Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death

When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party

Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides

Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one

Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death

JaneJeffer · 16/09/2018 00:21

two lines that say everything
Here's one line that says everything. I love it.

Favourite poems
Hedgehogblues · 16/09/2018 00:25

Cartoon Physics By Nick Flynn

Children under, say, ten, shouldn't know
that the universe is ever-expanding,

inexorably pushing into the vacuum, galaxies

swallowed by galaxies, whole

solar systems collapsing, all of it
acted out in silence. At ten we are still learning

the rules of cartoon animation,

that if a man draws a door on a rock
only he can pass through it.

Anyone else who tries

will crash into the rock. Ten-year-olds
should stick with burning houses, car wrecks,

ships going down—earthbound, tangible

disasters, arenas

where they can be heroes. You can run
back into a burning house, sinking ships

have lifeboats, the trucks will come
with their ladders, if you jump

you will be saved. A child

places her hand on the roof of a schoolbus,

& drives across a city of sand. She knows

the exact spot it will skid, at which point
the bridge will give, who will swim to safety
& who will be pulled under by sharks. She will learn

that if a man runs off the edge of a cliff
he will not fall

until he notices his mistake.

DrFoxtrot · 16/09/2018 01:28

My favourite is Three Questions by Lang Leav

What was it like to love him? Asked Gratitude.
It was like being exhumed, I answered. And
brought to life in a flesh of brilliance.

What was it like to be loved in return? Asked Joy.^ It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I^ replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence.

What was it like to lose him? Asked Sorrow.
There was a long pause before I responded:

It was like hearing every goodbye ever said to
me – said all at once.

IchFliegeNach · 16/09/2018 08:01

Another Irish one!

Snow
BY LOUIS MACNEICE
The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.

World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The drunkenness of things being various.

And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes—
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands—
There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.
oh

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