Do you have a favorite poem? One that you love and read over and over? How about a poem that you're sure is a work of genius, but you just don't get. Or one that has recently inspired or moved you in some way. If so, please suggest this poem in the comments section and I'll choose one to post and discuss on the site, or more than one.
Any are welcome, although I especially like the postmodern New York schoolish "what the f*** does this mean" type of poem (hello Ashbery fans)! We can figure it out!
10 comments:
l(a
l(a
le
af
fa
ll
s)
one
l
iness
By E.E Cummings
I like it because it is a little like a puzzle when you read it side ways instead of running down the poem starts to make sense.
l(a leaf falls) oneliness. Then you put two and two together, by combining the first "l" with "oneliness" you spell loneliness.
http://www.snazzykat.com/ordinarychica
I fell in love with Pablo Neruda a few years ago. He writes about love and loss so passionately that I feel his despair and it reminds me of my own losses. I particularly like "Here I Love You."
Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.
The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.
Oh the black cross of a ship.
Alone.
Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.
Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.
The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.
The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.
Kristina
www.kristinawright.com
warchild13@spymac.com
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Blake, Patchen, Roethke
XI.
DOST thou remember ever, for my sake,
When we two rowed upon the rock-bound lake?
How the wind-fretted waters blew their spray
About our brows like blossom-falls of May
One memorable day?
Dost thou remember the glad mouth that cried--
"Were it not sweet to die now side by side,
To lie together tangled in the deep
Close as the heart-beat to the heart--so keep
The everlasting sleep?"
Dost thou remember? Ah, such death as this
Had set the seal upon my heart's young bliss!
But, wrenched asunder, severed and apart,
Life knew a deadlier death: the blighting smart
Which only kills the heart.
From: Songs and Sonnets, by Mathilde Blind,
Chatto & Windus, Piccadilly, London 1893
first, the movie is "The Never Ending Story"
also, two poems come to mind (both for reasons that span beyond the verse and touch on my life's journey). i'll share some of eacha nd leave it to you to discover the rest...
"sunset and evening star, and one clear call..."
"i want to help you all i can, in everything i do, because you are so friendly and i think the world of you. my services, however great, may not amount to much..."
thanks for dropping by http://www.theophany.us
Dream Song 28: Snow Line
It was wet & white & swift and where I am
we don't know. It was dark and then
it isn't.
I wish the barker would come. There seems to be eat
nothing. I am usually tired.
I'm alone too.
If only the strange one with so few legs would come,
I'd say my prayers out of my mouth, as usual.
Where are his note I loved?
There may be horribles; it's hard to tell.
The barker nips me but somehow I feel
he too is on my side.
I'm too alone. I see no end. If we could all
run, even that would be better. I am hungry.
The sun is not hot.
It's not a good position I am in.
If I had to do the whole thing over again
I wouldn't.
John Berryman
I love this poem by Berryman. It's one of the Dream Songs. The speaker is a sheep who is lost from the flock. May be a weird take on the 23 psalm?
Another favorite is "Five Years Old" by James Tate.
Another favorite is "Five Years Old" by James Tate.
My favorite poem (or one of them):
Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blu remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
Guess who wrote it?
How about T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland"? *evil grin* But seriously (since I don't think you want to analyze an 11 page poem that people write whole books on), how about Andrew Marvell's "To His Coy Mistress"? Read it here: http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/marvell/coy.htm
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