Favourite Poem?

[Josephine]

thanks ali! i'm all into love poems at the moment...

me 2! i know its kinda corny but love poetry is so beautiful

 

[electricladyland]

by the way, love your avatar...la Deneuve is one of my favorite actresses.

 

[Josephine]

^ thanku - she's so beautiful

 

[electricladyland]

cummings

i have found what you are like

i have found what you are like
the rain,

(Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light
with thinned

newfragile yellows

lurch and.press

-in the woods
which
stutter
and

sing

And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
your kiss

 

[Colette_B]

A Dream Deferred​

by Langston Hughes​

​

​

What happens to a dream deferred?​

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?​

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.​

Or does it explode?​

 

[electricladyland]

^^^absolutely love this poem!!

 

[electricladyland]

Quiet Girl, langston hughes

I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.

 

[Josephine]

^lovely

 

[electricladyland]

i think the word lovely is lovely...

 

[Josephine]

hehe

 

[Colette_B]

langston hughes is one of the best!

 

[Josephine]

More a hymn but i just love it...

I vow to thee my country

I vow to thee, my country—all earthly things above—
Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love;
The love that asks no question, the love that stands the test,
That lays upon the altar the dearest and the best;
The love that never falters, the love that pays the price,
The love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice.

And there’s another country, I’ve heard of long ago—
Most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know;
We may not count her armies, we may not see her King;
Her fortress is a faithful heart, her pride is suffering;
And soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase,
And her ways are ways of gentleness, and all her paths are peace

 

[Josephine]

When You Are Old

When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

 

[Josephine]

a kids poem really but I still love it...


Fueled

Fueled by a million man-made wings of fire

the rocket tore a tunnel through the sky

and everybody cheered.

Fueled only by a thought from God

the seedling urged its way through the

thicknesses of black

and as it pierced the heavy ceiling of the soil

and launched itself up into outer space

no one even clapped.

by Marcie Hans

 

[electricladyland]

i like "when you are old"

XXIX. "I think of thee!---My thoughts do twine and bud..."

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

I think of thee!---my thoughts do twine and bud
About thee, as wild vines, about a tree,
Put out broad leaves, and soon there's nought to see
Except the straggling green which hides the wood.
Yet, O my palm-tree, be it understood
I will not have my thoughts instead of thee
Who art dearer, better! Rather, instantly
Renew thy presence; as a strong tree should,
Rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare,
And let these bands of greenery which insphere thee
Drop heavily down,---burst, shattered, everywhere!
Because, in this deep joy to see and hear thee
And breathe within thy shadow a new air,
I do not think of thee---I am too near thee.

 

[Josephine]

ahhhh i love Elizabeth Barrett Browning

 

[electricladyland]

yeah she's the best!!

 

[electricladyland]

XXXVI. "When we met first and loved, I did not build..."

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

When we met first and loved, I did not build
Upon the event with marble. Could it mean
To last, a love set pendulous between
Sorrow and sorrow? Nay, I rather thrilled,
Distrusting every light that seemed to gild
The onward path, and feared to overlean
A finger even. And, though I have grown serene
And strong since then, I think that God has willed
A still renewable fear . . . O love, O troth . . .
Lest these enclaspèd hands should never hold,
This mutual kiss drop down between us both
As an unowned thing, once the lips being cold,
And Love be false! if he, to keep one oath,
Must lose one joy, by his life's star foretold.

 

[Josephine]

I couldn't resist...

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

from Romeo and Juliet of course

 

[electricladyland]

haha!! you read my mind. i love shakespeare's sonnets!

this is one of my favorites:
CXXX.
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.