What are your favourite poems?

Discussion in 'Off-Topic Chat' started by Getzonica, Nov 15, 2009.

  1. Getzonica

    Getzonica Active Member

    What are your favourite poems?

    Mine are 'First Love' by John Clare and 'Dulce et Decorum est' by Wilfred Owen.
     
  2. Stickman 09

    Stickman 09 Member

    There was one I liked when I was about 4....

    About a topsy turvy world....

    Flowers eating cows, children teaching teachers...

    What a strange poem....
     
  3. bbg

    bbg Member

    "Tam o'Shanter"..........To A Mouse...........My Luve is like a red red rose.............The Cottar's Saturday Night............Annie Laurie..............

    oops, sorry, I'm suffering from serious Burns!
     
  4. Laserbeam bass

    Laserbeam bass Active Member

    "My favourite poem is the one that starts 'Thirty days hath September' because it actually tells you something."

    Courtesy of the comic genius Julius "Groucho" Marx
     
  5. Getzonica

    Getzonica Active Member

    Another poem I quiet like is "icarus Allsorts" by Roger McGough
     
  6. StellaJohnson

    StellaJohnson Active Member

    i don't know any poems!!
     
  7. Bass Trumpet

    Bass Trumpet Active Member

    A baby sardine saw her first submarine: She was scared and watched through a peephole, "Oh, come, come, come," Said the sardine's mum, "It's only a tin full of people."

    Spike Milligan, of course!
     
  8. FlugelD

    FlugelD Member

    "Said Baby tern to Mummy tern,
    'Can I have a brother?'
    Said Mummy tern to baby tern -
    'Yes - one good tern deserves another!'"

    or

    The boy stood on the burning deck
    Whence all but he had fled -
    Pillock!
     
  9. Mrs Fruity

    Mrs Fruity Member

    To Earthward by Robert Frost
    Anything by Rupert Brooke
    Love's Philosophy by Percy Shelley
     
  10. jockinafrock

    jockinafrock Active Member

    The first I heard of the poem 'My Mountain Top' by Lemn Sissay (I'm sure someone'll correct me if it isn't actually a poem.. :oops:) was with Foden's Glyn Williams et al playing Andy Scott's gorgeous music, and Bram Tovey narrating in his own inimitable dulcet tones. Hauntingly beautiful... not fussed if it isn't a poem - it was wonderful and very evocative, with or without the music..

    By gum, it really tugs at the heart strings... :clap:
     
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    First Love
    Dulce et Decorum est
    John Clare
    Wilfred Owen
    Decorum est
  12. CLAIRE SPONG

    CLAIRE SPONG Member

    For the Fallen, Laurence Binyon. It contains the "They shall grow not old" verse from the remembrance service but it's very rare that the whole poem is read out.

    For The Fallen
    With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
    England mourns for her dead across the sea.
    Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
    Fallen in the cause of the free.

    Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
    Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
    There is music in the midst of desolation
    And a glory that shines upon our tears.

    They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
    Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
    They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
    They fell with their faces to the foe.

    They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
    Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
    At the going down of the sun and in the morning
    We will remember them.

    They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
    They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
    They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
    They sleep beyond England's foam.

    But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
    Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
    To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
    As the stars are known to the Night;

    As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
    Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
    As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
    To the end, to the end, they remain.
     
  13. animal.22

    animal.22 Member

    Not exactly a poem but my dad found me a musical monologue called "His Pipe" when I used to smoke a pipe. Basicaly it's about an old man that is nearing the end of his days,his wife died years ago and all he has left is the pipe he has smoked for more years than he can think. Yes it's sad,and yes it makes me cry a bit whenever I read it but I think it's wonderfull.IMHO :)
     
  14. Thirteen Ball

    Thirteen Ball Active Member

  15. Anno Draconis

    Anno Draconis Well-Known Member

    Twice Shy by Seamus Heaney I remember as the only poem I read in school that I actually liked. Since then I've quite enjoyed odd bits of Auden, Eliot and Larkin, though.

    ^I can't take The Raven seriously since The Simpsons did it...:biggrin:
     
  16. Anno Draconis

    Anno Draconis Well-Known Member

    Quoth the Raven: "Eat my shorts"

    PMSL:D
     
  17. chrisgs

    chrisgs Member

    Smiling is contagious, you catch it like the flu
    When someone smiled at me today I started smiling too.
    I passed around the corner, and someone saw my grin -
    When he smiled I realised I'd passed it on to him!
    I thought about that smile, then I realised its worth.
    A single smile - just like mine
    Could travel round the earth!
    So, if you feel a smile begin, don't leave it undetected -
    Let's start an epidemic quick and get the world infected!
    :D
     
  18. PeterBale

    PeterBale Moderator Staff Member

    I love this spoof on Longfellow's "Hiawatha":

    He killed the noble Mudjokivis.
    Of the skin he made him mittens,
    Made them with the fur side inside,
    Made them with the skin side outside.
    He, to get the warm side inside,
    Put the inside skin side outside;
    He to get the cold side outside
    Put the warm side fur side inside.
    That's why he put the fur side inside,
    Why he put the skin side outside,
    Why he turned them inside outside.

    ;)
     
  19. halsasaurus

    halsasaurus Member

    Courage!” he said, and pointed toward the land,
    “This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon.”
    In the afternoon they came unto a land
    In which it seemed always afternoon.
    All round the coast the languid air did swoon,
    Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
    Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
    And like a downward smoke, the slender stream
    Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.

    A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke,
    Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;
    And some thro’ wavering lights and shadows broke,
    Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
    They saw the gleaming river seaward flow
    From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops,
    Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,
    Stood sunset-flush’d: and, dew’d with showery drops,
    Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.

    The charmed sunset linger’d low adown
    In the red West: thro’ mountain clefts the dale
    Was seen far inland, and the yellow down
    Border’d with palm, and many a winding vale
    And meadow, set with slender galingale;
    A land where all things always seem’d the same!
    And round about the keel with faces pale,
    Dark faces pale against that rosy flame,
    The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.

    Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
    Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave
    To each, but whoso did receive of them,
    And taste, to him the gushing of the wave
    Far far away did seem to mourn and rave
    On alien shores; and if his fellow spake,
    His voice was thin, as voices from the grave;
    And deep-asleep he seem’d, yet all awake,
    And music in his ears his beating heart did make.

    They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
    Between the sun and moon upon the shore;
    And sweet it was to dream of Fatherland,
    Of child, and wife, and slave; but evermore
    Most weary seem’d the sea, weary the oar,
    Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.
    Then some one said, “We will return no more”;
    And all at once they sang, “Our island home
    Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam.”
     
  20. DaveR

    DaveR Active Member

    Anything by R.S. Thomas or John Betjeman for me - both are fantastic but for totally different reasons! Some of Philip Larkin is quite good too.
     
  21. MrsDoyle

    MrsDoyle Supporting Member

    Survivors / Sassoon, Siegfried

    No doubt they'll soon get well; the shock and strain
    Have caused their stammering, disconnected talk.
    Of course they're "longing to go out again,"--
    These boys with old, scared faces, learning to walk,
    They'll soon forget their haunted nights; their cowed
    Subjection to the ghosts of friends who died,--
    Their dreams that drip with murder; and they'll be proud
    Of glorious war that shatter'd all their pride ...
    Men who went out to battle, grim and glad;
    Children, with eyes that hate you, broken and mad.
     
  22. theMouthPiece Visitor Guide

    Find more discussions like this one
    First Love
    Dulce et Decorum est
    John Clare
    Wilfred Owen
    Decorum est

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