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Favorite Poem Project

W

Wabbit

New Member
Found an interesting web site and project. It's called the Favorite Poem Project. It's aim was to ask people to submit their all time favorite poems. Those poems were made into a collection for 2 books. The web site does contain quite a few free wonderful poems to read :)

Have a look :) Clicky Here


My fav is this one.

The Sentence
by Anna Akhmatova
And the stone word fell
On my still-living breast.
Never mind, I was ready.
I will manage somehow.

Today I have so much to do:
I must kill memory once and for all,
I must turn my soul to stone,
I must learn to live again—

Unless . . . Summer's ardent rustling
Is like a festival outside my window.
For a long time I've foreseen this
Brilliant day, deserted house.

Translated from the Russian by Judith Hemschemeyer

Wonderful, huh? :)

Regards
SillyWabbit
 
OH! OH! OH!

And this...

God's World
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!

Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!

Thy mists, that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!

Long have I known a glory in it all,

But never knew I this:

Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart,—Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me,—let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

Beautiful.

And it's a good thing to be reminded that, after all, it is a beautiful world.

Regards
SillyWabbit
 
Wow, I have so many favorite poems. But the one I have always leaned toward as my personal favorite is A Blessing by James Wright.
Here it is:

A Blessing

Just off the Highway to Rochester, Minnesota
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

--James Wright
 
I don't think I could come in at under 100 fave poems. But Wabbit, investigate Millay. She's got some incredible stuff. Definitely in my top 5.
 
With the exception of the poems in Possession by AS Byatt, I haven't read poetry since martyring myself through Robert Burns at school (nae offence, Rabbie :eek: )

So when you speak to me of sonnets, and iambs, and 'assonance' (new word to me, spotted in son's jotter last week, and repeated by Milo-O, today :cool: ) I haven't a clue what you're on about.

So I will choose from a tiny, but important, selection I have read since joining the Book Forum :)

First: Standing Here by Opinion8ed2 (23rd Jan)

Standing Here

Standing beside you now
I know in my mind that you are unattainable
But it doesn't stop my heart from wanting you
I fantasize innocently of just being able to lay my hand on yours
To reassure you...
But maybe more, to reassure me

I think these thoughts willingly
These thoughts that only aid in perpetuating my torture
I've tried to break my heart's strange bond with you
A bond formed despite all attempts at dissipating it's strong hold
Your attempts at dissipating it's strong hold....
The attempts that you view as successful
Those restless, cold attempts...

"Friends"....
It's amazing how deadly one word can be...
A word that should be beneficent...
A word that is lethal if preceded by another word
"Just Friends"...
It's amazing how much horror that those words are able to summon...
It's amazing how much untold revulsion is wrought from the utterance of these words...
Or even the mere thought of them

Friends...
Why "just friends"??? Why?
But I must be content with friendship
Even when my heart loathes the word
Even when my mind longs for better...or more

There she is
And here I am
And here I am standing beside her...wishing, yearning, longing, wanting, hoping

Reason? Because it inspired me to write a small story around it - Thankyou Opinion8ed2, if you are still around :)


Second: DANCE by Tugger (30th March)


I only know this vision of you comes to me:

Under stars
Of a bright, black sky you dance
Barefoot on the shiny meadow.
Your eyes are closed.

Your arms are outstretched.
Your hands are gracefully limp.
You are no longer in need of breath.
You are hearing the perfect song.

If I wait,
The sun may never rise.
And I may never embrace you,
Your hair against my cheek.

And if I don't wait,
You may dissolve in my arms,
Leaving only the shadows
Of your words to comfort me.

Reason: Because it makes me feel all floaty ;)

Third Man Girl
 
Ashlea said:
I don't think I could come in at under 100 fave poems. But Wabbit, investigate Millay. She's got some incredible stuff. Definitely in my top 5.
Click to expand...

Will do, thanks for the recommendation :)

Regards
SillyWabbit
 
tugger said:
Oh yes, Ashlea, Millay's Recuerdo is one of my faves!
Click to expand...

I have that one memorized:

We were very tired, we were very merry,
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable,
But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,
We lay on a hilltop, underneath the moon.
And the whistle kept blowing, and the dawn came soon.

We were very tired, we were very merry,
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear
from a dozen of each we had bought somewhere,
And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold,
And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold.

We were very tired, we were very merry,
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
We hailed, "Good morrow, mother!" to a shawl-covered head,
And bought a morning paper that neither of us read.
And she wept "God Bless You" for the apples and the pears
And we gave her all our money but our subway fares.

--with apologies to Vincent for my errors.
 
'phrases' (from the illuminations, by arthur rimbaud).

when the world is reduced to a single dark wood for our four eyes'
astonishment,—a beach for two faithful children,—a musical house for
one pure sympathy,—I shall find you.

should there be here below but a single old man, handsome and calm in the
midst of incredible luxury, I shall be at your feet.

should I have realized all your memories,—should I be the one who can
bind you hand and foot,—I shall strangle you.

* * *

when we are very strong,—who draws back? very gay,—who cares for
ridicule? When we are very bad,—what would they do with us?

deck yourself, dance, laugh. I could never throw love out of the window.

* * *

my comrade, beggar girl, monster child! o it's all one to you these
unhappy women, these wiles and my discomfiture. bind yourself to us with
your impossible voice, your voice! sole soother of this vile despair.

* * *

an overcast morning in july. a taste of ashes flies through the air;—an
odor of sweating wood on the hearth,—dew-ret flowers—devastation
along the promenades—the mist of the canals over the fields—why not
incense and toys already?

* * *

I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to
window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.

* * *

the upland pond smokes continuously. what witch will rise against the
white west sky? what violet frondescence fall?

* * *

while public funds evaporate in feasts of fraternity, a bell of rosy fire
rings in the clouds.

* * *

reviving a pleasant taste of india ink, a black powder rains on my vigil.
I lower the jets of the chandelier, I throw myself on my bed, and turning
my face towards the darkness, I see you, my daughters! my queens!
 
Oh! OH! and this! :)

The World Is a Beautiful Place

by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind happiness
not always being
so very much fun
if you don't mind a touch of hell
now and then
just when everything is fine
because even in heaven
they don't sing
all the time

The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind some people dying
all the time
or maybe only starving
some of the time
which isn't half bad
if it isn't you

Oh the world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't much mind
a few dead minds
in the higher places
or a bomb or two
now and then
in your upturned faces
or such other improprieties
as our Name Brand society
is prey to
with its men of distinction
and its men of extinction
and its priests
and other patrolmen

and its various segregations
and congressional investigations
and other constipations
that our fool flesh
is heir to

Yes the world is the best place of all
for a lot of such things as
making the fun scene
and making the love scene
and making the sad scene
and singing low songs and having inspirations
and walking around
looking at everything
and smelling flowers
and goosing statues
and even thinking
and kissing people and
making babies and wearing pants
and waving hats and
dancing
and going swimming in rivers
on picnics
in the middle of the summer
and just generally
'living it up'
Yes
but then right in the middle of it
comes the smiling
mortician


What do you think? Wonderful, huh? I love it! This is SO good for so many reasons. Rhyme and meter are perfect and so clever. The use of certain words at certain parts. The whole idea of the poem. Great, great and another great!!!! :) Anybody know this poet? I have not encountered him before.

Regards
SillyWabbit
 
Reply to Thread

A fave of mine.

Finding in me a wing of beauty that it maybe,
Never to be holding an escapable memory,
When doubt and trust you lose through ginger and the like,
With fear embedded deep and a fire to crisp all night,
Down the stairs with bold embrace,
Toward the kitchen through glance and case,
These are the simple that stop with no ease,
Together the worthy, alone on your knees,
Forever in pardon to none but thy own,
Driven with parcels already from home,
Sight is a passage to tell us the truth,
And a wing inside me brings peace for the mute,
A silent closeness that falls right apart,
Together the worthy, alone in the dark.

~ O'Dwyer
 
My favorite poem is, of course, 'Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in my Armpit one Midsummer Morning' by Grunthos the Flatulent :D

Phil
 
phil_t said:
My favorite poem is, of course, 'Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in my Armpit one Midsummer Morning' by Grunthos the Flatulent :D

Phil
Click to expand...

Actually, I believe that poem was by Bumhole Noise!

Regards
SillyWabbit
 
<Sighs at Wabbit, who obviously didnt get the reference :confused: )>

<Sighs at Martin, who probably did as he is always banging on about the books :D>

I stand by my recommendation, after all it is only the third worst form of poetry in the Universe :p

Phil
 
third man girl said:
With the exception of the poems in Possession by AS Byatt, I haven't read poetry since martyring myself through Robert Burns at school (nae offence, Rabbie :eek: )
Click to expand...

Yes, To a mouse is such a wonderful bit of poetry. A nice rhythm in the stanzas and an excellent move from a mouse to mankind.

'assonance' (new word to me, spotted in son's jotter last week, and repeated by Milo-O, today :cool: ) I haven't a clue what you're on about.
Click to expand...

assonance - repetitive use of the same vowel
consonance - repetitive use of the same consonant
alliteration - words beginning with same letter
enjambement - run on sentence
hyperbole - feat of exaggeration

From iambs, there's dactyls, trochees, anapaests, and much much more. Get into poetry girl. Get into it NOW!
 
SillyWabbit said:
Anybody know this poet? I have not encountered him before.

Regards
SillyWabbit
Click to expand...

I think Garrison Keillor included one or two of his in the poetry collection he made from his "Writer's Almanac" broadcasts. He also had an introduction where he complained that modern colleges teach all the wrong sorts of poetry, and leave out great stuff like this.
 
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