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Date Posted: 19:47:57 04/10/10 Sat
Author: 
Page
Subject: April is Poetry Month
Our own brilliant susiej mentioned this on her blog last week, and I'd meant to bring it up here before. But the third and last revision of Carey On was occupying all my available brain cells and I forgot.
But in honor of National Poetry Month I think it would be super awesome if we'd post our favorite poems here on the Lit Forum. It can be your own verse, or for those of us (like me) who can't write poetry, one you love written by someone else.
Let's put them in the replies, shall we? I'm looking forward to this, because I'm always on the lookout for new poetry to read!
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Page's faves >>>> -- Page, 20:01:05 04/10/10 Sat
I consider two poems to be my very favorites ever, and would like to share them with you.
The first is only part of a very, very long and epic poem called Grass of Parnassus written by a man called Andrew Lang. The part I love best is entitled Another Way:
Come to me in my dreams, and then,
One saith, I shall be well again,
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Nay, come not thou in dreams, my sweet,
With shadowy robes, and silent feet,
And with the voice, and with the eyes
That greet me in a soft surprise.
Last night, last night, in dreams we met,
And how, to-day, shall I forget,
Or how, remembering, restrain
Mine incommunicable pain?
Nay, where thy land and people are,
Dwell thou remote, apart, afar,
Nor mingle with the shapes that sweep
The melancholy ways of Sleep.
But if, perchance, the shadows break,
If dreams depart, if men awake,
If face to face at length we see,
Be thine the voice to welcome me.
And my very favorite poem ever is this one by Dante Rossetti. It's called Sudden Light. Rossetti wrote two different ending stanzas, but I like the first one written in 1863 and published in 1870 the best, so that's the one I'm posting here.
I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before,—
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow's soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall,—I knew it all of yore.
Then, now,—perchance again! . . . .
O round mine eyes your tresses shake!
Shall we not lie as we have lain
Thus for Love's sake,
And sleep, and wake, yet never break the chain?
The other ending stanza written in 1881 is:
Has this been thus before?
And shall not thus time's eddying flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death's despite,
And day and night yield one delight once more?
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Re: Page's faves >>>> -- debikm, 21:18:13 04/10/10 Sat
>Nay, where thy land and people are,
>Dwell thou remote, apart, afar,
>Nor mingle with the shapes that sweep
>The melancholy ways of Sleep.
>
>But if, perchance, the shadows break,
>If dreams depart, if men awake,
>If face to face at length we see,
>Be thine the voice to welcome me.
>
I LOVE that last stanza...
>
You have been mine before,—
> How long ago I may not know:
> But just when at that swallow's soar
> Your neck turned so,
> Some veil did fall,—I knew it all of yore.
I hear Jay's voice, thinking of Katie...
These are great! Thanks for sharing, Page.
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Some poems I love -- debikm, 21:10:28 04/10/10 Sat
The first is by Don Marquis from archy and mehitabel. Long story short, archy is a cockroach that was a poet in a past life that lives in Don's office. Mehitabel is an alley cat who claims to be Cleopatra reincarnated. Everything is in small letters because archy types by hopping on the typewriter keys and can't hold the Shift key down. I memorized this poem to recite in a middle school English class and can still recite it from memory if I take a minute to think.
the hen and the oriole
well boss did it
ever strike you that a
hen regrets it just as
much when they wring her
neck as an oriole but
nobody has any
sympathy for a hen because
she is not beautiful
while every one gets
sentimental over the
oriole and says how
shocking to kill the
lovely thing this thought
comes to my mind
because of the earnest
endeavor of a
gentleman to squash me
yesterday afternoon when i
was riding up in the
elevator if i had been a
butterfly he would have
said how did that
beautiful thing happen to
find its way into
these grimy city streets do
not harm the splendid
creature but let it
fly back to its rural
haunts again beauty always
gets the best of
it be beautiful boss
a thing of beauty is a
joy forever
be handsome boss
and let who will be clever is
the sad advice
of your ugly little friend
archy
Keat's Ode on Melancholy is another favorite. It offers advice on dealing with sadness and was one of the first poems I read that I 'got', knowhatImean? ;-)
Ode On Melancholy
No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
She dwells with Beauty - Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
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Re: April is Poetry Month -- Alex, 17:52:15 04/12/10 Mon
The Sun
Bounced off the kitchen table
This morning.
I saw my reflection
In your eyes.
I wish I saw me in your eyes
More often.
But I do not tell you this
For fear of
Not seeing you at all.
-J. Hoey
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I like this very much! -- debikm, 18:49:12 04/12/10 Mon
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I love these! I get so excited when I come back and someone's posted another one. Keep 'em coming! -- Page, 15:38:19 04/13/10 Tue
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I'm very late but here's my post on my favorite poems from this month click -- susiej, 11:45:14 05/07/10 Fri
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