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Tell me your favourite poem

182 replies

Januarycold · 10/01/2020 01:08

Want to get into reading and poetry
Need some starters Thanks!

OP posts:
Nannyamc · 11/01/2020 22:59

Try get a copy of soundings..used for old Lc in Irish schools contains most poets.

TitianaTitsling · 11/01/2020 23:10

Owen- dulce et decorum est - how indicative of throwing the youth at the problem and
Thomas 'do not go gentle' both evocative for me.

Ifkip · 11/01/2020 23:15

I discovered Sharon Olds a couple of years ago and lovely her poetry
True Love
In the middle of the night, when we get up
after making love, we look at each other in
complete friendship, we know so fully
what the other has been doing. Bound to each other
like mountaineers coming down from a mountain,
bound with the tie of the delivery-room,
we wander down the hall to the bathroom, I can
hardly walk, I hobble through the granular
shadowless air, I know where you are
with my eyes closed, we are bound to each other
with huge invisible threads, our sexes
muted, exhausted, crushed, the whole
body a sex—surely this
is the most blessed time of my life,
our children asleep in their beds, each fate
like a vein of abiding mineral
not discovered yet. I sit
on the toilet in the night, you are somewhere in the room,
I open the window and snow has fallen in a
steep drift, against the pane, I
look up, into it,
a wall of cold crystals, silent
and glistening, I quietly call to you
and you come and hold my hand and I say
I cannot see beyond it. I cannot see beyond it.

Interested in this thread?

Then you might like threads about this subject:

bohemia14 · 11/01/2020 23:15

So hard to choose but if I have to.....

Mending Wall by Robert Frost
The lake isle of Innisfree by W B Yeats
How do I love thee by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Bambooclock · 11/01/2020 23:44

Maiden Name by Philip Larkin

Marrying left your maiden name disused.
Its five light sounds no longer mean your face,
Your voice, and all your variants of grace;
For since you were so thankfully confused
By law with someone else, you cannot be
Semantically the same as that young beauty:
It was of her that these two words were used.

Now it's a phrase applicable to no one,
Lying just where you left it,scattered through
Old lists, old programmes, a school prize or two
Packets of letters tied with tartan ribbon -
Then is it scentless, weightless, strengthless, wholly
Untruthful? Try whispering it slowly.
No, it means you. Or, since you're past and gone,

It means what we feel now about you then:
How beautiful you were, and near, and young,
So vivid, you might still be there among
Those first few days, unfingermarked again.
So your old name shelters our faithfulness,
Instead of losing shape and meaning less
With your depreciating luggage laden.

TreeLinedMotorway · 12/01/2020 11:34

A Woman's Work

By Dorothy Nimmo

Will you forgive me that I did not run
to welcome you as you came in the door?
Forgive I did not sew your buttons on
and left a mess strewn on the kitchen floor?
A woman's work is never done
and there is more.

The things I did I should have left undone
the things I lost that I could not restore;
Will you forgive I wasn't any fun?
Will you forgive I couldn't give you more?
A woman's work is never done
and there is more.

I never finished what I had begun,
I could not keep the promises I swore,
so we fought battles neither of us won
and I said, "Sorry!" and you banged the door.
A woman's work is never done
and there is more.

But in the empty space now you are gone
I find the time I didn't have before.
I lock the house and walk out to the sun
where the sea beats upon a wider shore
and woman's work is never done,
not any more.

TreeLinedMotorway · 12/01/2020 12:08

@Januarycold thank you for starting this thread. It’s reminded me how much I love poetry.

Januarycold · 12/01/2020 12:33

No worries. I’m grateful for the suggestions here!

OP posts:
PerkingFaintly · 25/01/2020 22:58

Just coming back to this thread to thank the poster who mentioned Clive James' "The Book of My Enemy Has Been Remaindered".

I'm still chortling over it.Grin

MAFIL · 26/01/2020 00:20

Two poems by John Masefield - Sea Fever and Cargoes.
I love them both, probably as much because they were favourites of my Dad and he used to recite them to me as "bedtime stories".
The Listeners by Walter de la Mare was another one he used to recite to me, along with quite a few by Rudyard Kipling and assorted Lancashire monologues. He had quite eclectic tastes! He never actually read a book to me at bedtime, always recited poetry or sang. I loved it.
I am also very interested in WW1 poetry, especially Wilfred Owen.

salty78 · 26/01/2020 00:50

Wendy Cope - The Orange

And

Dylan Thomas - a Poem in October

Shoxfordian · 26/01/2020 08:09

This is one of my favourites

The city by Cavafy

You said: “I’ll go to another country, go to another shore,

find another city better than this one.

Whatever I try to do is fated to turn out wrong

and my heart lies buried like something dead.

How long can I let my mind moulder in this place?

Wherever I turn, wherever I look,

I see the black ruins of my life, here,

where I’ve spent so many years, wasted them, destroyed them totally.”

You won’t find a new country, won’t find another shore.

This city will always pursue you.

You’ll walk the same streets, grow old

in the same neighborhoods, turn gray in these same houses.

You’ll always end up in this city. Don’t hope for things elsewhere:

there’s no ship for you, there’s no road.

Now that you’ve wasted your life here, in this small corner,

you’ve destroyed it everywhere in the world.

Shoxfordian · 26/01/2020 08:10

And we had this for our wedding, really like it

journal.neilgaiman.com/2017/10/wedding-thoughts-all-i-know-about-love.html?m=1

Lessstressedhemum · 26/01/2020 09:58

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov'd,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
Sonnet 116' Shakespeare

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,
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 grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
Lake Isle of Innesfree, W.B. Years

Is there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an' a' that;
The coward slave-we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that.
Our toils obscure an' a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The Man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an' a that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A Man's a Man for a' that:
For a' that, and a' that,
Their tinsel show, an' a' that;
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that:
For a' that, an' a' that,
His ribband, star, an' a' that:
The man o' independent mind
He looks an' laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that;
But an honest man's abon his might,
Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignities an' a' that;
The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a' that,)
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's coming yet for a' that,
That Man to Man, the world o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.
A Man's a Man, Robert Burns

TreeLinedMotorway · 30/01/2020 06:34

We had this read at our wedding:
The Confirmation
by Edward Muir

Yes, yours, my love, is the right human face.
I in my mind had waited for this long,
Seeing the false and searching for the true,
Then found you as a traveller finds a place
Of welcome suddenly amid the wrong
Valleys and rocks and twisting roads. But you,
What shall I call you? A fountain in a waste,
A well of water in a country dry,
Or anything that’s honest and good, an eye
That makes the whole world bright. Your open heart,
Simple with giving, gives the primal deed,
The first good world, the blossom, the blowing seed,
The hearth, the steadfast land, the wandering sea,
Not beautiful or rare in every part,
But like yourself, as they were meant to be.

Trooperslaneagain · 30/01/2020 06:50

@SageRosemary we had that Yeats poem at our wedding as a reading.

Love Rosetti, Heaney and Yeats and WH Auden.

(I have a duvet day planned and I might just dig out a couple of my old poetry books)

Foslady · 30/01/2020 07:10

Try Brian Bilston - poet of the internet

DisgraceToTheYChromosome · 30/01/2020 07:18

High Flight by John Gillespie Magee. DF and I were glider pilots, and he loved the poem so much he had it cast in bronze. I read it at his funeral, years streaming down my face. Like now in fact.

DisgraceToTheYChromosome · 30/01/2020 07:18

Tears, ffs.

TerpsichoreanMuse · 30/01/2020 07:19

Spring and Fall

BY GERARD MANLEY HOPKINSS_

to a young child

Márgarét, áre you gríeving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! ás the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It ís the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

EugenesAxe · 30/01/2020 07:19

The Way Through the Woods by Rudyard Kipling. It’s atmospheric.

FrivolousPancake · 30/01/2020 07:24

Lovely thread.
So many great mentions.

Hope is a thing with feathers has helped me through some very rough times.

Moondancer73 · 30/01/2020 07:37

Sneezes by AA Milne

By A. A. Milne
More A. A. Milnee*
Christopher Robin
Had wheezles
And sneezles,
They bundled him
Into
His bed.
They gave him what goes
With a cold in the nose,
And some more for a cold
In the head.
They wondered
If wheezles
Could turn
Into measles,
If sneezles
Would turn
Into mumps;
They examined his chest
For a rash,
And the rest
Of his body for swellings and lumps.
They sent for some doctors
In sneezles
And wheezles
To tell them what ought
To be done.
All sorts and conditions
Of famous physicians
Came hurrying round
At a run.
They all made a note
Of the state of his throat,
They asked if he suffered from thirst;
They asked if the sneezles
Came after the wheezles,
Or if the first sneezle
Came first.
They said, "If you teazle
A sneezle
Or wheezle,
A measle
May easily grow.
But humour or pleazle
The wheezle
Or sneezle,
The measle
Will certainly go."
They expounded the reazles
For sneezles
And wheezles,
The manner of measles
When new.
They said "If he freezles
In draughts and in breezles,
Then PHTHEEZLES
May even ensue."

Christopher Robin
Got up in the morning,
The sneezles had vanished away.
And the look in his eye
Seemed to say to the sky,
"Now, how to amuse them to-day?"

And also, as a complete polar opposite The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe.

ankitji007 · 03/11/2020 11:24

if you are reading online shayaires and you want some interesting shayaries to read then you can click the link and get it hindishayarifm.com/category/romantic-shayari/

EmmaGrundyForPM · 03/11/2020 11:30

I would try a couple of anthologies to find what you like.

The Rattle Bag is a good starting point.