National Poetry Day, do you have a favourite?

[lilibet]

Three suggestions to start us off

Appolinaire said
'come to the edge'
'it is too high'
'come to the edge'
'we might fall'
'come to the edge'
and they came
and he pushed them
and they flew

Anonymous

Bit like motherhood really!

and:-

The day he left was dreadful
that evening she went through hell
His absence wasn't a problem
but the corkscrew had gone as well!

Wendy Cope.

And (last one )

Sometimes things dont go, after all
from bad to worse. Some years muscadel
faces down a frost:green thrives, the crops don't fail
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people will sometimes step back from war;
elelct an honest man, decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we were meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.

Sheenagh Pugh

Loads - but off top of my head I like a lot of Philip Larkins - Old Age andcan't remember title but it goes...
'They Fuck you up your mum and dad
They may not mean to, but they do
They fill you with their own faults
And then add some extra, just for you'...and so on

Also like If by Kipling
If you can keep your head when all around you loose theirs..............

And my favourite - written by my much loved dear Nana - can't quite remember it - will try my best...
It's not always easy when troubles appear
To wear a big smile you know's not sincere
Your heart it may ache but you still sing a song
It may even break but you still carry on
Lifes litle problems come to us all
Some of us brave them some of us fall
But if you've a problem don't worry or fret
Just look on the bright side it helps to forget.

Something like that - God I love that woman.

Angeliz, Janstar does (and has a very nifty line in haikus, there was a thread of them recently) but I think she's on her hols at the mo.

One Perfect Rose

A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet-
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
"My fragile leaves," it said, "his heart enclose."
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.

Since you kindly mentioned my scribbling while I was away - I will dare to post one of my own poems. Ooooeer....

It's called 'Damage'.

I saw a silent silver tear
slipping down the darkness.
Lone child shivering.
Bruises seeping through skin.
A lifetime gnawing inside.

I heard angry voices slapping
their trusting admirer
with messages of unworthiness.
Invisible barbs lodging deep -
Slow-release poison down the years.

I watched a child seek pathways;
struggling, bewildered.
Desperate for a listener.
Ready to sacrifice anything
for the right to have needs.

I felt a little girl's confusion.
Force, secrets, - love?
Too innocent to realise
her rage has been paralyesed.
Drowned by shame poured over.

My love asks, 'Why do you ache?
You, who have everything?'
Warm, safely held, I whisper, 'Damage'.
Weep for all the children, -
the child I used to be.

whoops, typo. Paralysed.

Janstar, can't beleive that this thread died after your poem, I didn't see it first time round, but was looking for somthing else and came across this thread. I really like that, I like the line about 'the right to have needs'
that is a very powerful line. I am really impressed, you made me go all shivery!

OH can i put my poem on ??? No actually you might all think it's crap. My english tutor liked it though, made me read it out and told me i should frame it.

Hi, Lilibet. Yes, I thought I had killed this thread! And I was a bit nervous of posting my own poetry on here, I thought it might seem a bit arrogant. Thanks for resurrecting it.

Oh, please go on Nutcracker. I'd love to read it.

Hang on a mo, I have to find it.

o.k got it. It's not a sgood as the others on here, but not bad for a first attempt i think.

I lie awake in the pitch black night,
A thousand thoughts go rushing through my mind.

Hard as I wish there's no time left to fight,
A new home to live in we must now find.

Holding in the tears is now much too hard,
As I remember the good times had here,
Kids laughing and playing in the back yard,
Never hearing that again is my worst fear.

As the darkness fades and the light appears,
I hear the children stirring in their beds,
Time to be strong, no crying should they hear,
No sad memories in their little heads.

This house was once our home, but not anymore,
Memories in my heart, I close the door.

Wasn't sure how to space it out. We had to stick to a particular format. Something to do woth iambic pentameters or something.

I like it, it's heartfelt. Does it have a title?

Punctuating and spacing poetry is quite a personal matter. Sometimes one way might feel more right than another, but it is your poem and it is up to you.

The title was Moving On. It was meant to be about when our house got reposessed.

I like it too, especially the last line, aren't you two talented?

I'm not going to make it a trio as apart formthe haiku's on here I haven't written a poem since I was at school.

Well, everyone could say that at some point, Lilibet

When the moon is flying high
and starlight frosts the sky,
sleep, angel child.

Having spent a good few years doing calligraphy, I always planned to write that out and frame it for DSs bedroom. Funnily enough, I never got round to it

I love this thread, keep in going, Janstar, I can't even believe you thought it would be arrogant to post your poetry, I think it is fantastic and very inspiring too!

Message withdrawn

Lovely thread, I love poetry. One of my faves is:

Galactic Love Poem by Brian Patten (apologies if slightly misremembered)

Close your eyes at the sunset
Before we go to bed.
Read your book by the light of Orion,
With Sirius guarding your head.
Then reach out and switch off the planets,
We'll watch them go out one by one,
You kiss me and tell me you love me,
By the light of the last setting sun.
We'll both be up early tomorrow,
A new universe has begun

Like your poems janstar and nutcracker, very thoughtful. Was going to post one of mine. but maybe later. Motherinferior - yours made me cry. Gorgeous.

I love Brian Patten's work, this is one of my favourites and its probably about the 4th or 5th time I have posted it on here, as I put it on everytime someone asks for a funeral poem.

How long does a man live after all?
A thousand days or only one?
One week or a few centuries?
How long does a man spend living or dying
and what do we mean when we say gone forever?

Adrift in such preoccupations, we seek clarification.
We can go to the philosophers
but they will weary of our questions.
We can go to the priests and rabbis
but they night be busy with administrations.

So, how long does a man live after all?
And how much does he live while he lives?
We fret and ask so many questions -
then when it comes to us
the answer is so simple after all.

A man lives for as long as we carry him inside us,
for as long as we carry the harvest of his dreams,
for as long as we ourselves live,
holding memories in common, a man lives.

His lover will carry his man's scent, his touch:
his children will carry the weight of his love.
One friend will carry his arguements,
another will hum his favourite tunes,
another will still share his terrors.

And the days will pass with baffled faces,
then the weeks, then the months,
then there will be a day when no question is asked,
and the knots of grief will loosen in the stomach
and the puffed faces will calm.
And on that day he will not have ceased
but will have ceased to be separated by death.

How long does a man live after all?
A man lives so may different lengths of time.

there's a monster tnat lives inour washing machine
it's eating our clothes
not washing them clean
as it turns round and round
it snorts and it snickers
chewing dads shirts
and ripping mums knickers

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking, with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put the crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can come to any good.

W H Auden

And just to raise the mood a little, as everyone else picked it out too, my second choice...

Making Cocoa for Kingsley Amis

It was a dream I had last week
And some kind of record seemed vital.
I knew it wouldn't be much of a poen
But I love the title.

Wendy Cope

Was going to dig out some of my stuff, but it's under dd's bed, so I won't risk waking her. Was all very teenage angsty anyway. Don't get the time (or inspiration) to write any these days....

WARNING
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens . . .

The ending of the poem pleases its readers when the woman says . . .

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

by Jenny Joseph

ooops that didnt copy fully...will post it properly tomorrow

"Look at your hands!"the teacher cried
"couldn't be dirtier if you tried.
What would you say if mine were like this?"

We'd be too polite to mention it, Miss.