Share your favorite poems...

Discussion in 'Books' started by HartwickFan, May 4, 2009.

  1. SpencerNY

    SpencerNY Member+

    Dec 1, 2001
    Up in the skyway
    This is Just to Say Part II by Mrs. Williams

    F U honey, you ain't getting any for a good month.
     
  2. Ribeiro dos Reis

    Mar 17, 2012
    Club:
    SL Benfica
    Nat'l Team:
    Portugal
    A country of poets and not a single one here ?? :mad: shame on you my fellow countrymen. :( :rolleyes:

    Here's a first one:

    [ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubz94c4SyJU&feature=related"]TROVA DO VENTO QUE PASSA - Manuel Alegre com Carlos Paredes, e Amália Rodrigues - YouTube[/ame]

    ballad of the wind that passes, two versions, one declaimed by the poet himself (Manuel Alegre), and then an Amalia Rodrigues (adapted) version.

    At 3:31 there's a picture of Alegre and Amalia.

    Enjoy.
     
  3. usscouse

    usscouse BigSoccer Supporter

    May 3, 2002
    Orygun coast
    Afghanistan is in the news a bit lately, thought that this from Kipling would be appropriate.

    When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
    And the women come out to cut up what remains,
    Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
    An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
     
  4. TightAngelicWingback

    Sep 16, 2013
    Astride a hawk contorting, and its wings too..
    Club:
    Beitar Jerusalem FC
    Nat'l Team:
    Samoa
    Favorite poets: Trakl, Verlaine, Frost
     
  5. The Potter

    The Potter Member+

    Aug 26, 2004
    England
    Club:
    Stoke City FC
    Nat'l Team:
    England
  6. The Potter

    The Potter Member+

    Aug 26, 2004
    England
    Club:
    Stoke City FC
    Nat'l Team:
    England
  7. Iceblink

    Iceblink Member

    Oct 11, 1999
    Chicago
    Club:
    Ipswich Town FC
    Nat'l Team:
    United States
    I called that guy out on his reading of Byron's "The Destruction of Sennacherib" several years ago. He got all huffy with me that I found his slow, labored reading... well..... slow and laborious.
     
  8. matleblanc

    matleblanc Member

    Jun 9, 2014
    Club:
    Atletico Madrid
    Live is fine by Langston Hughes
    I went down to the river,
    I set down on the bank.
    I tried to think but couldn't,
    So I jumped in and sank.

    I came up once and hollered!
    I came up twice and cried!
    If that water hadn't a-been so cold
    I might've sunk and died.

    But it was Cold in that water! It was cold!

    I took the elevator
    Sixteen floors above the ground.
    I thought about my baby
    And thought I would jump down.

    I stood there and I hollered!
    I stood there and I cried!
    If it hadn't a-been so high
    I might've jumped and died.

    But it was High up there! It was high!

    So since I'm still here livin',
    I guess I will live on.
    I could've died for love--
    But for livin' I was born

    Though you may hear me holler,
    And you may see me cry--
    I'll be dogged, sweet baby,
    If you gonna see me die.

    Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine!
     
  9. usscouse

    usscouse BigSoccer Supporter

    May 3, 2002
    Orygun coast
    I read an interesting book last week entitled "Fair Stood the Wind for France" the first line of the Drayton poem we read in school. Drayton a contemporary of Billy Shakespeare.

    Michael Drayton. 1563–1631
    Agincourt

    FAIR stood the wind for France
    When we our sails advance,
    Nor now to prove our chance
    Longer will tarry;

    But putting to the main,
    At Caux, the mouth of Seine,
    With all his martial train
    Landed King Harry.

    And taking many a fort,
    Furnish'd in warlike sort,
    Marcheth tow'rds Agincourt
    In happy hour;

    Skirmishing day by day
    With those that stopp'd his way,
    Where the French gen'ral lay
    With all his power.

    Which, in his height of pride,
    King Henry to deride,
    His ransom to provide
    Unto him sending;

    Which he neglects the while
    As from a nation vile,
    Yet with an angry smile
    Their fall portending.

    And turning to his men,
    Quoth our brave Henry then,
    'Though they to one be ten
    Be not amazèd:
    Yet have we well begun;

    Battles so bravely won
    Have ever to the sun
    By fame been raisèd.
    'And for myself (quoth he)
    This my full rest shall be:

    England ne'er mourn for me
    Nor more esteem me:
    Victor I will remain
    Or on this earth lie slain,
    Never shall she sustain

    Loss to redeem me.
    'Poitiers and Cressy tell,
    When most their pride did swell,
    Under our swords they fell:

    No less our skill is
    Than when our grandsire great,
    Claiming the regal seat,
    By many a warlike feat
    Lopp'd the French lilies.'

    The Duke of York so dread
    The eager vaward led;
    With the main Henry sped
    Among his henchmen.

    Excester had the rear,
    A braver man not there;
    O Lord, how hot they were
    On the false Frenchmen!

    They now to fight are gone,
    Armour on armour shone,
    Drum now to drum did groan,
    To hear was wonder;

    That with the cries they make
    The very earth did shake:
    Trumpet to trumpet spake,
    Thunder to thunder.

    Well it thine age became,
    O noble Erpingham,
    Which didst the signal aim
    To our hid forces!

    When from a meadow by,
    Like a storm suddenly
    The English archery
    Stuck the French horses;

    With Spanish yew so strong,
    Arrows a cloth-yard long
    That like to serpents stung,
    Piercing the weather;

    None from his fellow starts,
    But playing manly parts,
    And like true English hearts
    Stuck close together.

    When down their bows they threw,
    And forth their bilbos drew,
    And on the French they flew,
    Not one was tardy;

    Arms were from shoulders sent,
    Scalps to the teeth were rent,
    Down the French peasants went—
    Our men were hardy.

    This while our noble king,
    His broadsword brandishing,
    Down the French host did ding
    As to o'erwhelm it;

    And many a deep wound lent,
    His arms with blood besprent,
    And many a cruel dent
    Bruisèd his helmet.

    Gloster, that duke so good,
    Next of the royal blood,
    For famous England stood
    With his brave brother;

    Clarence, in steel so bright,
    Though but a maiden knight,
    Yet in that furious fight
    Scarce such another.

    Warwick in blood did wade,
    Oxford the foe invade,
    And cruel slaughter made
    Still as they ran up;

    Suffolk his axe did ply,
    Beaumont and Willoughby
    Bare them right doughtily,
    Ferrers and Fanhope.

    Upon Saint Crispin's Day
    Fought was this noble fray,
    Which fame did not delay
    To England to carry.

    O when shall English men
    With such acts fill a pen?
    Or England breed again
    Such a King Harry?
     
  10. zaqualung

    zaqualung Member+

    Jun 17, 2015
    San Francisco
    Club:
    Liverpool FC
    Thnx for what appears a great thread here folks and folkies. I just stumbled on it's first page ..... it'll be a place to head for as the dark winter of El Nino comes down around .......

    Meanwhile - ya gotta love this .... all hail John Cleese.

    Ode to Sean Hannity
    by John Cleese

    Aping urbanity
    Oozing with vanity
    Plump as a manatee
    Faking humanity
    Journalistic calamity
    Intellectual inanity
    Fox Noise insanity
    You're a profanity
    Hannity
     
    Dyvel repped this.
  11. zaqualung

    zaqualung Member+

    Jun 17, 2015
    San Francisco
    Club:
    Liverpool FC

    This kind of thing strikes me as more prose than poem..... but, most likely, there is no line of demarcation that can be definitively drawn. Everyone's will be different......
     

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