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Share your dilemmas and get honest opinions from other Mumsnetters.

To ask for your favourite poem

285 replies

Rebeccaslicker · 22/12/2017 12:57

I was just going to post this on the "middle aged woman is too old for fairy lights" thread - but it's being zapped for GF-ery!

So here is one of my favourite poems:

www.barbados.org/poetry/wheniam.htm

I like it because I think the imagery and the humour are fantastic. Anyone else like poetry? What do you like - I love reading poetry so would be great to find some new stuff :)

OP posts:
Thread gallery
6
Loonoonow · 22/12/2017 19:59

So many beautiful poems , I am reading through tears.

If anyone has time check out this one by e e cummings. It's called 'my father moved through dooms of love' and his dad must have been quite a man to inspire a poem like this.

www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/my-father-moved-through-dooms-love-0

Pengggwn · 22/12/2017 20:02

This reply has been deleted

Message withdrawn at poster's request.

ScipioAfricanus · 22/12/2017 20:04

Tracked it down for you playitnow: I also read it in the paper many years ago (when I got the Telegraph?) and it’s called ‘Grange-over-Sands’ by John Hegley. I dig out my old diary where I’d sellotaped it in 20 years ago.

Andromeida29 · 22/12/2017 20:05

It changes but right now it's sonnet 55.

Not marble nor the gilded monuments
Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme,
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone besmeared with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword nor war’s quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
’Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So, till the Judgement that yourself arise,
You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes.

ScipioAfricanus · 22/12/2017 20:08

Grange-over-Sands by John Hegley for playitnow

When they had fallen asleep
in the great hotel
the snow fell.
By the morning it had laid
and after their Cambrian breakfast
they came out into the quiet flakes
and made a snow dog.
Although it had no name or bone,
it had its own snowball
and a small snow owner
who seemed to be an infinitely patient man,
and what with the Woodland Walk
and the nearby Lakes
they found themselves agreeing
that it was a very good place
to being a dog
into being.

timeisnotaline · 22/12/2017 20:11

Wallace Stevens the snow man :
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

Rebeccaslicker · 22/12/2017 20:12

I've been to grange over sands! Hadn't read the poem before 🎈

OP posts:
wewentoutonsunday · 22/12/2017 20:13

Late Fragment

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

Raymond Carver

ScipioAfricanus · 22/12/2017 20:21

Sorry last lines of above poem should obviously be ‘ to bring a dog into being’.

cathyclown · 22/12/2017 20:24

WB Yeats

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

And this one for my mother. She lost her home (care home now), her health, and her husband within a year. She always loved her home. But it is no more. But needs must. She is Irish and often recited this to us. Tears now, but it's an emotional time of year anyway.

O, to have a little house!
To own the hearth and stool and all!
The heaped up sods against the fire,
The pile of turf against the wall!
To have a clock with weights and chains
And pendulum swinging up and down!
A dresser filled with shining delph,
Speckled and white and blue and brown!
I could be busy all the day
Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor,
And fixing on their shelf again
My white and blue and speckled store!
I could be quiet there at night
Beside the fire and by myself,
Sure of a bed and loth to leave
The ticking clock and the shining delph!
Och! but I'm weary of mist and dark,
And roads where there's never a house nor bush,
And tired I am of bog and road,
And the crying wind and the lonesome hush!
And I am praying to God on high,
And I am praying Him night and day,
For a little house - a house of my own
Out of the wind's and the rain's way.
Padraic Colum

PenguinLost · 22/12/2017 20:25

Another Simon Armitage one:

Let me put it this way:
if you came to lay

your sleeping head
against my arm or sleeve,

and if my arm went dead,
or if I had to take my leave

at midnight, I should rather
cleave it from the joint or seam

than make a scene
or bring you round.

There,
how does that sound?

Midge1978 · 22/12/2017 20:32

He didn't write about cities very often but imho this was his best:

Composed upon Westminster Bridge - Wordsworth

Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! The very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

MaidenMotherCrone · 22/12/2017 20:33

Love’s Philosophy
BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?—

See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?

Rebeccaslicker · 22/12/2017 20:37

Loon - he must have worshipped his dad!

OP posts:
MaidenMotherCrone · 22/12/2017 20:39

The Life That I Have.

The life that I have

Is all that I have

And the life that I have

Is yours

The love that I have

Of the life that I have

Is yours and yours and yours

A sleep I shall have

A rest I shall have

Yet death will be but a pause

For the peace of my years

In the long green grass

Will be yours and yours

and yours.

By Leo Marks

RoseWhiteTips · 22/12/2017 20:42

i carry your heart with me by e e cummings

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

speakout · 22/12/2017 20:42

Many

Snow White, the dumb bunny,
opened the door
and she bit into a poison apple

Nervousrex · 22/12/2017 20:42

What a wonderful thread! Thankyou, OP.

This my favourite poem. I did post it on another thread not so long ago, so please forgive the repetiton.

The Two-Headed Calf
by Laura Gilpin

Tomorrow, when the farm boys find this
freak of nature, they will wrap his body
in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

But tonight he is alive and in the north
field with his mother. It is a perfect
summer evening: the moon rising over
the orchard, the wind in the grass.
And as he stares into the sky, there
are twice as many stars as usual.

speakout · 22/12/2017 20:44

Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely,
Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely

OhLittleBoreOfWhabylon · 22/12/2017 21:12

Wonderful,thread! Many of my favourites here, especially 'High Flight' and the Robert Frost 'Stopping by Woods'

Here's a seasonal one I love

The Journey Of The Magi by T.S. Eliot

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
and running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arriving at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you might say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

OhLittleBoreOfWhabylon · 22/12/2017 21:14

@Nervousrex

Oh, that one has made me cry!

goose1964 · 22/12/2017 21:15

And death shall have no dominion by Dylan Thomas.

FuzzyCustard · 22/12/2017 21:21

This, about loss..

Time does not bring relief (Sonnet II) by Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1892 - 1950

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied

Who told me time would ease me of my pain!

I miss him in the weeping of the rain;

I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,

And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;

But last year’s bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.

There are a hundred places where I fear

To go,—so with his memory they brim.

And entering with relief some quiet place

Where never fell his foot or shone his face

I say, “There is no memory of him here!”

And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

FuzzyCustard · 22/12/2017 21:23

littleBore I love the Journey of the Magi too, and was reading it only yesterday!

OhLittleBoreOfWhabylon · 22/12/2017 21:32

I love to hear it read, FuzzyCustard

Here's a nice version I just discovered

m.youtube.com/watch?v=aSdP7qYYVF4