The Poetry Thread

AmunetAmunet Spokane, Washington, USA
Simple. Post your favourite poems (or links to them, as you see fit).

Charles Baudelaire (All poems linked are in French, with several English translations below.)








Edgar Allan Poe 









and, of course, The Raven.


There are thousands more poems in my list, but these are enough for a start. I'll post more later.
My avatar is an image created by this very talented gentleman, of whose work I am extremely jealous. It was not originally a picture of Amunet, but it certainly looks a great deal like how I envision her!
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  • For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we are still just able to endure,
    and we are so awed because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
  • Anything on Poetry newsboard <3
  • The closest thing I get to poetry are Augie March lyrics and the Jaberwocky.
  • OceanaOceana North Sea
    Goethe - Der Erlkönig / Erlking (link has both the German version and an English translation).
  • edited December 2012


    Kate Tempest - Best Intentions.



    David J - This is what we do.
    I won a competition awhile ago to have Chris Bourassa paint a picture of Lodi. My profile pic is the end product. :)
  • edited December 2012


    Alim Kamara - Imagine.
    I won a competition awhile ago to have Chris Bourassa paint a picture of Lodi. My profile pic is the end product. :)
  • LiancaLianca Fire and Spice
    http://archive.org/stream/sportourancestor00will#page/92/mode/2up/search/93

    A somewhat awkward way to view, but this is my all time favourite poem, pages 93-97, Dream of an Old Meltonian, by William Bromley-Davenport.

    I have the book, but it's not kept separate anywhere online.
    The sweltering heat of the forge spills out across the land as the rumbling voice of Phaestus booms, "I want you to know, the Garden reaction to that one is: What?"
    The voice of Melantha, Goddess of the Seasons, echoes amid the rustle of leaves, "That's the censored version."
  • edited December 2012


    Taylor Mali and a good one for finals week.

    "The the impotence of proofreading."

    It's really funny, go watch it.
  • I can't find my favourite poem anywhere online. It used to be there. I don't remember all of it, because the author changed it after it was published.

    Apple tree, you're growing pears!
    Something just ain't right upstairs.
    Let me see a fallen fruit,
    See what gives you this repute.

    Now, apple tree, this isn't right.
    You're growing pears, and in the night!
    Might I pluck a leaf from you,
    To understand the things you do?

    Oh, apple tree, say it's not so!
    You're growing pears, and in the snow!
    Might I tear a branch away,
    To help you find a better way?

    Hmph. Apple tree, how dare you live.
    And all you've got is pears to give!
    I'm sorry, but this has to be -
    I cut you down, to try to see
    Why you weren't like the rest,
    The secrets that your shade confessed.

    Apple tree, you couldn't learn.
    You're made of wood, and meant to burn.
    Apple tree, we couldn't love you.
    Sorry thing, we were above you.

    Apple tree, you were once fine
    With your pears and twisted mind.
    Apple tree, we let you die.
    Perhaps your pears would care to cry?

    As I said, I don't remember it perfectly. If anyone knows how this poem SHOULD go, correction is 100% welcome.
    Miin-aan baash kimini-sij-i-gan bitooyin sij-i-gan-i bukwayszhiigan = blueberry π
  • Having a hard time paring down a list of favorite poems from my favorite poets, so for Fenton and Gunn I'm using the (memorized) poems whose words first come to mind when I think of them. I don't know if all of them are online so not including links.

    James Fenton: Out of the East, In a Notebook, A Staffordshire Murderer (mainly for a few very memorable stanzas and lines scattered throughout)

    Thom Gunn: Jack Straw's Castle, A Mirror for Poets, Song of a Camera
    A few more actually come to mind for him, but I don't think they're quite as good as those three.


    Joao Cabral de Melo Neto (translated by Kerry Shawn Keys): A Knife All Blade

    W.B. Yeats: The Second Coming

    ________________________
    The soul of Ashmond says, "Always with the sniping."

    (Clan): Ictinus says, "Stop it Jiraishin, you're making me like you."
  • Ranbindranath Tagore - The Gardener

    I have chosen one of the poems randomly from the book:


     31

     My heart, the bird of the wilderness, has found its sky in your

       eyes.

     They are the cradle of the morning, they are the kingdom of the

       stars.

     My songs are lost in their depths.

     Let me but soar in that sky, in its lonely immensity.

     Let me but cleave its clouds and spread wings in its sunshine.

  • This is one Tagore poem that has stayed with me for a long time:

    The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day.
    I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.
    The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set;
    only there is the agony of wishing in my heart.
    The blossom has not opened; only the wind is sighing by.
    I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice;
    only I have heard his gentle footsteps from the road before my house.
    The livelong day has passed in spreading his seat on the floor;
    but the lamp has not been lit and I cannot ask him into my house.
    I live in the hope of meeting with him; but this meeting is not yet.
    For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we are still just able to endure,
    and we are so awed because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
  • AmunetAmunet Spokane, Washington, USA
    Shameless self-promotion:

    I've started writing poetry again. I took a sort of hiatus for a bit, since my dad was sick and I didn't have a lot of time. My classes this quarter are largely focused on poetry - mostly contemporary American - and being exposed to poetry every day, on top of the veritable font of emo that I've become, has led to a natural progression. This is my latest, and isn't written in my usual style at all, but I think it's one of the best things I've ever written. I started out toying with alliteration and assonance, and then ended up getting dark, brooding, and gloomy. C'est la vie.

    I'm probably going to swing down to Broken Mic at Neato Burrito next Wednesday and read this, among other things, if any of the Achaean Spokanites are interested.


    My avatar is an image created by this very talented gentleman, of whose work I am extremely jealous. It was not originally a picture of Amunet, but it certainly looks a great deal like how I envision her!
  • Tagore - Railway Station.

    For some reason I can't find it online. ._.

  • Amunet said:
    Shameless self-promotion:

    I've started writing poetry again. I took a sort of hiatus for a bit, since my dad was sick and I didn't have a lot of time. My classes this quarter are largely focused on poetry - mostly contemporary American - and being exposed to poetry every day, on top of the veritable font of emo that I've become, has led to a natural progression. This is my latest, and isn't written in my usual style at all, but I think it's one of the best things I've ever written. I started out toying with alliteration and assonance, and then ended up getting dark, brooding, and gloomy. C'est la vie.

    I'm probably going to swing down to Broken Mic at Neato Burrito next Wednesday and read this, among other things, if any of the Achaean Spokanites are interested.


    This poem is fantastic. Thank you for posting it.
  • AmunetAmunet Spokane, Washington, USA
    Aww, thank you!
    My avatar is an image created by this very talented gentleman, of whose work I am extremely jealous. It was not originally a picture of Amunet, but it certainly looks a great deal like how I envision her!
  • edited January 2013
    Erk, disregard.

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  • Ahem, on a more serious note - a practical poem and a general guideline on how to live life.

    If

    If you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
    If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too:
    If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
    Or being hated don't give way to hating,
    And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

    If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
    If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
    If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same:.
    If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
    Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

    If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
    And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
    And never breathe a word about your loss:
    If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,
    And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

    If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
    Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
    If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much:
    If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
    Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
    And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son! 


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  • SherazadSherazad Planef Urth
    Bleh, work ate my gaming life.
    내가 제일 잘 나가!!!111!!1


  • edited January 2013
    For some reason, I've always liked this one.  It's cynical to the core but it rhymes like a jig.

    Terrence, this is stupid stuff. A. E. Housman

    Don't know if I'd consider it to be my favourite though.
    Commission List: Aesi, Kenway, Shimi, Kythra, Trey, Sholen .... 5/5 CLOSED
    I will not draw them in the order that they are requested... rather in the order that I get inspiration/artist block.
  • JurixeJurixe Where you least expect it
    @Exelethril, that is my favourite poem. So glad someone else likes it!
    If you like my stories, you can find them here:
    Stories by Jurixe and Stories by Jurixe 2 

    Interested in joining a Discord about Achaean RP? Want to comment on RP topics or have RP questions? Check the Achaean RP Resource out here: https://discord.gg/Vbb9Zfs


  • Since @Amunet missed one of my favorite Poe poems in the OP:
    The Conqueror Worm
  • edited January 2013

    Simple girl, likes simple poems :)

    Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

    1874–1963 Robert Frost

     

    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.
     
     
    and:
     
    El viaje definitivo
    Juan Ramón Jiménez
     
        …Y yo me iré. Y se quedarán los pájaros 
        cantando;
    y se quedará mi huerto, con su verde árbol,
    y con su pozo blanco.

    Todas la tardes, el cielo será azul y plácido;
    y tocarán, como esta tarde están tocando,
    las campanas del campanario.

    Se morirán aquellos que me amaron;
    y el pueblo se hará nuevo cada año;
    y en el rincón aquel de mi huerto florido y encalado.
    mi espíritu errará, nostálgico…

    Y yo me iré; y estaré solo, sin hogar, sin árbol
    verde, sin pozo blanco,
    sin cielo azul y plácido…
    Y se quedarán los pájaros cantando.
     
    (translation)
     
       … and I will leave. But the birds will stay, singing:
    and my garden will stay, with its green tree,
    with its water well.

        Many afternoons the skies will be blue and placid,
    and the bells in the belfry will chime,
    as they are chiming this very afternoon.

        The people who have loved me will pass away,
    and the town will burst anew every year.
    But my spirit will always wander nostalgic
    in the same recondite corner of my flowery garden.

     

    EDIT:  well, not exactly translation, but the excerpt from the book that used the poem as part of its story - especially as the 4th stanza is missing :P  I'm not as fond of other translations I've seen though.

     
     
  • Sherazad said:
    "Prufrock" was my first encounter with modern poetry and absolutely blew my mind (it still does). 
    Coeur said:
    Tagore - Railway Station.

    For some reason I can't find it online. ._.
    Are you talking about this poem?

    This is a very long, but very amazing Mark Doty poem I read recently: Atlantis 
    For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we are still just able to endure,
    and we are so awed because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
  • @Athanasius Yes, thank you! It is a lovely comment on the transience of things and of life.

  • edited January 2013
    Some of my other favorites are aleady here, so I'll contribute with "Sea-Fever", by John Masefield

     I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
     And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, 
    And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sails shaking 
    And a grey mist on the seas face and a grey dawn breaking.

     I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide 
    Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; 
    And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, 
    And the flung spray and the blowan plume, and the sea-gulls crying. 

    I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, 
    To the gull's way and the whale's way whe the wind's like a whetted knife; 
    And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover, 
    And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
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