Click HERE to see this thread with all of the graphics, features, and links.

On behalf of Trickster, who came up with the idea for a separate thread for poetry discussion, I suggest we talk all things poetical here to save other people's threads from getting cluttered. Views on poets and poems, rhymes, limericks, even songs if they hold a poetic inclination for you, opinions, likes/dislikes, faves, and reasons for and against would be as good a place as any to start.

I'm not great at writing poetry...I think my talent lies more towards hiphop style rhymes I will post some of my attempts, though.

Thanks chica

Wooo!

Go Syren! See, I knew if I started one, noone would read or post in it

Lol.

kk, I stuck it, so all is set now

Ok, another question, are you guys thinking of having this discussion thread to discuss only poems written by you, or everything?

My suggestion would be to have a seperate thread if you want to discuss opets - as in, each thread for a different poet.

Or just one for all contempory poetry?

I think this thread should be for discussing poetry written by us members, as well as if anyone wants any critiquing done, or to brainstorm ideas if anyone has writer's block.

Yep - then one for poems written elsewhere... Perhaps with a section for sonnets and ballads?

Whatever you guys decide. Im open to whatever suggestions to keep you all happy

Can we stick to discussing renowned poetry in this one? If only because the initial post outlines discussing poets, and newcomers might get confused

The poem is a bit weird.

I liked reading it, especially the second verse, until it 'flipped'. Well, it was all good but I'm not sure about the Christian indications toward the end. Also, I wasn't sure what the poem was trying to say...


Well Syren, how about I start up a thread where we discuss poetry that is posted in the forum?

I think it was basically aiming at how to live comfortably in society, but perhaps not quite with that depth I just liked the vocab used, I thought it was quite spiffy

Hi Syren..cool thread. I just posted in poetry contest...check it out and tell me what u think.

Heh, they're both good, but I must say I like the original better!

don't mind me asking but can we write our own poems?

Yeah, start an entirely new thread of your own to post your stuff in

LAUGH. MY. ****ING. ASS. OFF.

hysterical

Took me flipping AGES, trying to get the names to rhyme

It's simply genius.

I won't take complete credit, I mean, I saw the title and had to put it up here. But then I decided to change the names that the poet used to fit us in smartass

syren soooo funny.

It's very true!

Does anyone have any other poems that they really love? Written by published poets....

I like the one that goes;

"There's a certain slant of light..."

I really like the Eagle, by Lord Tennyson

The Eagle

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.



I like he structure and simplicity of it. I'm also really into the sonnets.

Okay, in school we have a seciton of English devoted to poetry, where we learn to modern authors and then some pre-1914 stuff. I don't really like the authors, but the old poems are really good.

The Man He Killed

'Had he and I but met
By some old ancient inn,
We should have sat us down to wet
Right many a nipperkin!

'But ranged as infantry,
And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed him in his place.
'I shot him dead beacause-
Because he was my foe,
Just so: my foe of course he was;
That#s clear enough; althugh

'He thought he'd 'list, perhaps
Off-hand like - just as I -
Was out of work - had sold his traps =
No other reason why.

'Yes; quaint and curious war is!
You shoot a fellow down
You'd treat if met where any bar is,
Or help to half-crown.'

Thomas Hardy
1902

OMG, Thomas Hardy is so good. I've just completed an A Level assignment dedicated to the analysis of two poems, one being Ted Hughes' 'Wind' and the other 'The Voice' by Hardy

Yep!

How great is the word 'nipperkin'?

Yes, it is William Blake.

Link One

Link Two

I just thought I'd turn your addresses you gave into links to make it a little easier for members to check your work out

I like this one, it's a wonderfully descriptive way of saying 'I hope all your dreams come true', am I right? Really a very sweet poem.

You're right. Oh, and thanks for turning my adresses into links - for some reason I can't post a link!?

You just have to copy and paste the full address and KMC automatically adds url around it to make a link. In order to consolidate the addresses themselves you have to put TEXT Without the space of course....

Oh, thanks for telling me.

No problem, I hoped you'd get my drift....

Hey, Syren, how old are you?

20.... why?

Just wondering... Because of your Xmas poem... Sorry, I was just confused. It sorta made me think of my high school library (there's quite a gathering) but I was sure you were older than high school!

Yah, I'm the librarian at a middle school.... the 'helpers' are a lovely bunch of Yr7/8 kids and I'm Gizmo Because of my eyes

Ah righty then!

Sorry, was all confused

I was just thinking - do people count Shakespeare's plays as poems?

I wouldn't say so, I consider them playscripts But extracts from them could be considered poetical.

I think Edgar Allen Poe had something with the "Nevermore" theme. I feel like life is a portacrapper and I am the tissue sitting below it all. hahaha..... oi.

I absolutely adore Wilfred Owen's 'Dulce Et Decorum Est...'

I'll find it and write it up....

this is a very good poem... written by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832)

The Erl-King


O who rides by night thro' the woodland so wild?
It is the fond father embracing his child;
And close the boy nestles within his loved arm,
To hold himself fast, and to keep himself warm.

"O father, see yonder! see yonder!" he says;
"My boy, upon what dost thou fearfully gaze?"
"O, 'tis the Erl-King with his crown and his shroud."
"No, my son, it is but a dark wreath of the cloud."

The Erl-King Speaks
"O come and go with me, thou loveliest child;
By many a gay sport shall thy time be beguiled;
My mother keeps for theee many a fair toy,
And many a fine flower shall she pluck for my boy."

"O father, my father, and did you not hear
The Erl-King whisper so low in my ear?"
"Be still, my heart's darling--my child, be at ease;
It was but the wild blast as it sung thro' the trees."

Erl-King
"O wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy?
My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy;
She shall bear three so lightlyt thro' wet and thro' wild,
And press thee, and kiss thee, and sing to my child."

"O father, my father, and saw you not plain
The Erl-King's pale daughter glide past thro' the rain?"
"Oh yes, my loved treasure, I knew it full soon;
It was the grey willow that danced to the moon."

Erl-King
"O come and go with me, no longer delay,
Or else, silly child, I will drag thee away."
"O father! O father! now, now, keep your hold,
The Erl-King has seized me--his grasp is so cold!"

Sore trembled the father; he spurr'd thro' the wild,
Clasping close to his bosom his shuddering child;
He reaches his dwelling in doubt and in dread,
But, clasp'd to his bosom, the infant was dead.



-- Translated by
Sir Walter Scott

Alone I Sit

I sit by myself
Alone in the dark
My lamp on the shelf

It sits burnt out
No light in my room
Just like my heart
As I lick my wounds

Alone I sit
Into the darkness I stare
The bruise from the hit
I really don't care

He'll get one too
Just you wait
Don't hit me, I'll hit you
Anger, fear, and hate
Fill my soul
As I sit alone!

A little toooooooo depressing Sorry I just don't like poetry very much, movies are my thing I don't know why I'm here anyway confused

Anyway you guys rock at poetry clapping Bravo clapping

Hey thanks for the comment, even if it wasn't to my poem. But thanks anyway.

I am going to find one of the poems I wrote a long time ago when I wasn't married. with my maden name on the who it's by space.
and put it in here for you all to read and tell me what you think.

Ooo ok! I wanna read it!!

Here is one I like by Williams Wordsworth. I learned it in fourth grade. It still influences me today.





"I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD"
I WANDERED lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Since Syren mentioned Maya Angelou I would like to share this wonderful poem that Maya wrote. I first heard it as part of an ad campaign for the NAACP. I know, I should have been exposed to it years earlier but I don't read as much poetry as I like to write. I should in order to learn more from others. That is why I am here now. I hope you all like it as much as I do. If you ever get a chance to hear her read it , take it.

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

^^ Pretty!

one of my favorite poets is Sylvia Plath She's cynical, and dark, and beautiful

My favorite Edgar Allen Poe poem is Annabelle Lee I'll post it up for those to read.

Annabelle Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me
Yes! that was the reason
(as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

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 is 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.

clap

An old favourite - Bluebird by Charles Bukowski.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?

It's really worth checking out Bukowski's reading of this poem, it's fantastic.

Oh, pretty girl, you have trapped
yourself in the wrong body. Twenty
extra pounds hang like a lumpy
tapestry on your perfect mammal nature.

Three months ago you were like a
deer staring at the first winter snow.

Now Aphrodite thumbs her nose at you
and tells stories behind your back.


Richard Brautigan