Meet the Other Phone. Flexible and made to last.

Meet the Other Phone.
Flexible and made to last.

Buy now

Please or to access all these features

Culture vultures

Get tips on theatre and art from other Mumsnetters on our Culture forum.

Favourite poems

357 replies

ipanemagirl · 28/06/2007 23:18

Poem lyrics of Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

I LOVE this poem and the last line reminds me to go to bed!

OP posts:
AbRoller · 30/06/2007 17:54

I love this thread, been popping in and out to catch up.

I can see it's mostly about well known and established poets but I'd like to make another contribution. As mentioned after my last contribution, my favourites sometimes are the ones I write because of their personal sentiment for me and those I write them for.

I know they're very simple and far from the articulate and emotive published ones but nonetheless special to me so here goes....a poem for my brother before he went to serve oversees

I have nothing to give you
except the thoughts in my head
so I'll weave you a masterpiece
I'll weave you a web

strong and resilient
it'll stand out a mile
glistening even in rain
just like your smile

it's threads will hold you
because it's made with my love
it'll fit in your pocket
like a hand in a glove

keep it close to your heart
in all that you do
and if ever you're feeling
scared, lonely or blue

Throw it before you
freefall from above
know that your safety net
will be my web of love

TnOgu · 30/06/2007 17:57

That's beautiful, Abs

themildmanneredjanitor · 30/06/2007 18:26

This reply has been deleted

Message withdrawn at poster's request.

mumtodd · 30/06/2007 19:07

Does anyone like Leonard Cohen, a poet, musician and writer?

themildmanneredjanitor · 30/06/2007 19:09

This reply has been deleted

Message withdrawn at poster's request.

TnOgu · 30/06/2007 20:55

Would you jump into My Grave As Quick?

By Paula Meehan.

Would you jump into my grave as quick?
my granny would ask when one of us took
her chair by the fire.You, woman,
done up to the nines, red lips a come on,
your breath reeking of drink
your black eye on my man tonight
in a Dublin bar, think
first of the steep drop, the six dark feet.

themaskedposter · 30/06/2007 21:02

wonderful abroller, really lovely

GodzillasBumcheek · 30/06/2007 21:52

Hello! This is my favourite poem...nobody said they had to be deep thinking. I am thoroughly uneducated - my dad used to read me this and i like it

The tale of Custard the Dragon
By Ogden Nash

Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.

Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.

Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.

Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.

Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.

Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink was strategically mouseholed.

But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.

The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.

Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.

Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.

TnOgu · 30/06/2007 21:59

Ogden Nash is fab

MollyCoddle · 01/07/2007 08:59

mumtodd - me me! The lyrics to That's No Way to Say Goodbye are beautiful:

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but now it's come to distances and both of us must try,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

grouchyoscar · 01/07/2007 13:28

Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah is sublime. Even better when John Cale does it

zookeeper · 01/07/2007 17:42

This thread is great.

Beattie is three had me in tears too.

Another one that comes to mind is a poem (I think by Dylan Thomas)The first line is

"When am old and grey and full of sleep"

zookeeper · 01/07/2007 17:43

"when I am old and grey and full of sleep

tribpot · 01/07/2007 17:47

One or other of these, from Edna St Vincent Millay.

Dirge Without Music

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, --- but the best is lost.

The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

Sonnet II
-----

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!

Peachy · 01/07/2007 17:52

I like a lot of the Khalil Gibran stuff, but also Rumi-

A Star Without a Name

When a baby is taken from the wet nurse,

it easily forgets her

and starts eating solid food.

Seeds feed awhile on ground,

then lift up into the sun.

So you should taste the filtered light

and work your way toward wisdom

with no personal covering.

That's how you came here, like a star

without a name. Move across the night sky

with those anonymous lights.

(Mathnawi III, 1284-1288)

I think its just something beautiful to meditate upon.

themildmanneredjanitor · 01/07/2007 17:54

This reply has been deleted

Message withdrawn at poster's request.

zookeeper · 01/07/2007 18:01

thank you mmj! Isn't it lovely?

themildmanneredjanitor · 01/07/2007 18:27

This reply has been deleted

Message withdrawn at poster's request.

Quattrocento · 01/07/2007 18:30

Yay! More Yeats.

hatwoman · 01/07/2007 18:31

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

hatwoman · 01/07/2007 18:32

The Pig, if I am not mistaken,
Supplies us sausage, ham, and Bacon.
Let others say his heart is big,
I think it stupid of the Pig.

Ogden Nash, "The Pig"

themildmanneredjanitor · 01/07/2007 18:34

This reply has been deleted

Message withdrawn at poster's request.

hatwoman · 01/07/2007 18:44

mmj - brilliant! thanks for those

hatwoman · 01/07/2007 18:50

Sand, Carol Ann Duffy

I believe in sand
because of its thousand whispers
held in my hands,

because of a starfish
worn like a brooch
and earring shells,

and the way it frowns
when the tide goes out,
and its seaweed smell.

I believe in sand
because of its magic castle
made by my hands,

because of a name
scored with a stick
at the edge of the tide,

and the salty lace
at the throat of a wave
where dolphins ride.

I believe in sand
because of the secret water
dug by my hands,

because of the footprints
leading away, leading away
to other lands,
I believe in sand.

themildmanneredjanitor · 01/07/2007 18:52

This reply has been deleted

Message withdrawn at poster's request.