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favourite Poems? -
09-05-2010, 12:21 PM
Do you have any favourite poems? Haiku etc?
I love this one very much: He wishes for the cloths of heaven William Butler 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. |
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09-06-2010, 08:29 AM
thats interesting. Poe surely was a most unusual person.
ALONE. From childhood's hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved alone. Then- in my childhood, in the dawn Of a most stormy life- was drawn From every depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still: From the torrent, or the fountain, From the red cliff of the mountain, From the sun that round me rolled In its autumn tint of gold, From the lightning in the sky As it passed me flying by, From the thunder and the storm, And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view. Edgar Allan Poe |
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09-06-2010, 09:04 AM
Culturally I have to say I am a Langston Hughes fan. The poem I too sing America can apply to a few other ethnicities in America today and the poem The Negro Speaks of Rivers feels me with pride and determination every time I think of it.
Other poems I like a lot are: The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost To An Athlete Dying Young, by A.E. Housman There is also a spanish (a poem written in spanish not necessarily from Spain) poem I like, I believe it is called El Ardor, but I can't remember the lines the only one I can recall is "dulce vos que embriaga me alma" and I could be way off on that one. |
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09-06-2010, 10:57 AM
it is good to be introduced to poets I have not read:
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh, And eat well, And grow strong. Tomorrow, I'll be at the table When company comes. Nobody'll dare Say to me, "Eat in the kitchen," Then. Besides, They'll see how beautiful I am And be ashamed-- I, too, am America. Langston Hughes |
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09-06-2010, 11:00 AM
reminds me of William Blake's poem from songs of innocence:
The Divine Image”Next Section > “The Nurse’s Song”“The Little Black Boy”My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O! my soul is white; White as an angel is the English child: But I am black as if bereav’d of light. My mother taught me underneath a tree And sitting down before the heat of day, She took me on her lap and kissed me, And pointing to the east began to say. Look on the rising sun: there God does live And gives his light, and gives his heat away. And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive Comfort in morning joy in the noon day. And we are put on earth a little space, That we may learn to bear the beams of love, And these black bodies and this sun-burnt face Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove. For when our souls have learn’d the heat to bear The cloud will vanish we shall hear his voice. Saying: come out from the grove my love & care, And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice. Thus did my mother say and kissed me, And thus I say to little English boy; When I from black and he from white cloud free, And round the tent of God like lambs we joy: I’ll shade him from the heat till he can bear, To lean in joy upon our fathers knee. And then I’ll stand and stroke his silver hair, And be like him and he will then love me. |
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