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Thread: Favourite Poems & Poems that moved you

  1. #171
    meh Array Salomé's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Ivy View Post
    Gosh, the world looks so small from up here on my high horse of menstruation.

  2. #172
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    The Recognition of Eve


    Whatever it was she had so fiercely fought
    Had fled back to the sky, but still she lay
    With arms outspread, awaiting its assault,
    Staring up through the branches of the tree,
    The fig tree. Then she drew a shuddering breath
    And turned her head instinctively his way,
    She had fought birth as dying men fight death.


    Her sigh awakened him. He turned and saw
    A body swollen, as though formed of fruits,
    White as the flesh of fishes, soft and raw.
    He hoped she was another of the brutes
    So he crawled over and looked into her eyes,
    The human wells that pool all absolutes,
    It was like looking into double skies.


    And when she spoke the first word (it was thou)
    He was terror-stricken, but she raised her hand
    And touched his wound where it was fading now,
    For he must feel the place to understand.
    Then he recalled the longing that had torn
    His side, and while he watched it whitely mend,
    He felt it stab him suddenly like a thorn.


    He thought the woman had hurt him. Was it she
    Or the same sickness seeking to return;
    Or was there any difference, the pain set free
    And she who seized him now as hard as iron?
    Her fingers bit his body. She looked old
    And involuted, like the newly born.
    He let her hurt him till she loosed her hold.


    Then she forgot him and she wearily stood
    And went in search of water through the grove.
    Adam could see her wandering through the wood,
    Studying her footsteps as her body wove
    In light and out of light. She found a pool
    And there he followed shyly to observe.
    She was already turning beautiful

    ~Karl Shapiro



    Wild Geese


    You do not have to be good.
    You do not have to walk on your knees
    for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
    You only have to let the soft animal of your body
    love what it loves.
    Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
    Meanwhile the world goes on.
    Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
    are moving across the landscapes,
    over the prairies and the deep trees,
    the mountains and the rivers.
    Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clear blue air,
    are heading home again.
    Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
    the world offers itself to your imagination,
    calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
    over and over announcing your place
    in the family of things.

    Mary Oliver
    Quote Originally Posted by Ivy View Post
    Gosh, the world looks so small from up here on my high horse of menstruation.

  3. #173
    Senior Member Array InsatiableCuriosity's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Halla74 View Post
    One of my favorites:

    SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY
    by: George Gordon (Lord) Byron (1788-1824)

    "She walks in beauty, like the night
    Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
    And all that's best of dark and bright
    Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
    Thus mellow'd to that tender light
    Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

    One shade the more, one ray the less,
    Had half impair'd the nameless grace
    Which waves in every raven tress,
    Or softly lightens o'er her face;
    Where thoughts serenely sweet express
    How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

    And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
    So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
    The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
    But tell of days in goodness spent,
    A mind at peace with all below,
    A heart whose love is innocent!"
    I adore Byron, Longfellow and Keats
    "Study hard what interests you the most in the most undisciplined, irreverent and original manner possible."
    — Richard P. Feynman

    "Never tell a person a thing is impossible. G*d/the Universe may have been waiting all this time for someone ignorant enough of the impossibility to do just that thing."
    author unknown

  4. #174
    Senior Member Array InsatiableCuriosity's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Morgan Le Fay View Post
    Thanks Morgan
    "Study hard what interests you the most in the most undisciplined, irreverent and original manner possible."
    — Richard P. Feynman

    "Never tell a person a thing is impossible. G*d/the Universe may have been waiting all this time for someone ignorant enough of the impossibility to do just that thing."
    author unknown

  5. #175
    Senior Member Array InsatiableCuriosity's Avatar
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    This is a part of another of my favourites as a child:

    The Song of Hiawatha by Henry W. Longfellow
    2 - The Four Winds

    Hiawatha and Mudjekeewis - 4

    Hiawatha's Childhood

    Downward through the evening twilight,
    In the days that are forgotten,
    In the unremembered ages,
    From the full moon fell Nokomis,
    Fell the beautiful Nokomis,
    She a wife, but not a mother.
    She was sporting with her women,
    Swinging in a swing of grape-vines,
    When her rival the rejected,
    Full of jealousy and hatred,
    Cut the leafy swing asunder,
    Cut in twain the twisted grape-vines,
    And Nokomis fell affrighted
    Downward through the evening twilight,
    On the Muskoday, the meadow,
    On the prairie full of blossoms.
    "See! a star falls!" said the people;
    "From the sky a star is falling!"
    There among the ferns and mosses,
    There among the prairie lilies,
    On the Muskoday, the meadow,
    In the moonlight and the starlight,
    Fair Nokomis bore a daughter.
    And she called her name Wenonah,
    As the first-born of her daughters.
    And the daughter of Nokomis
    Grew up like the prairie lilies,
    Grew a tall and slender maiden,
    With the beauty of the moonlight,
    With the beauty of the starlight.
    And Nokomis warned her often,
    Saying oft, and oft repeating,
    "Oh, beware of Mudjekeewis,
    Of the West-Wind, Mudjekeewis;
    Listen not to what he tells you;
    Lie not down upon the meadow,
    Stoop not down among the lilies,
    Lest the West-Wind come and harm you!"
    But she heeded not the warning,
    Heeded not those words of wisdom,
    And the West-Wind came at evening,
    Walking lightly o'er the prairie,
    Whispering to the leaves and blossoms,
    Bending low the flowers and grasses,
    Found the beautiful Wenonah,
    Lying there among the lilies,
    Wooed her with his words of sweetness,
    Wooed her with his soft caresses,
    Till she bore a son in sorrow,
    Bore a son of love and sorrow.
    Thus was born my Hiawatha,
    Thus was born the child of wonder;
    But the daughter of Nokomis,
    Hiawatha's gentle mother,
    In her anguish died deserted
    By the West-Wind, false and faithless,
    By the heartless Mudjekeewis.
    "Study hard what interests you the most in the most undisciplined, irreverent and original manner possible."
    — Richard P. Feynman

    "Never tell a person a thing is impossible. G*d/the Universe may have been waiting all this time for someone ignorant enough of the impossibility to do just that thing."
    author unknown

  6. #176
    Senior Member Array InsatiableCuriosity's Avatar
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    For A:

    Mulga Bill's Bicycle

    'TWAS Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze;
    He turned away the good old horse that served him many days;
    He dressed himself in cycling clothes, resplendant to be seen;
    He hurried off to town and bought a shining new machine;
    And as he wheeled it through the door, with air of lordly pride,
    The grinning shop assistant said, "Excuse me, can you ride?"
    "See here, young man," said Mulga Bill, "from Walgett to the sea,
    From Conroy's Gap to Castlereagh, there's none can ride like me.
    I'm good all round at everything, as everybody knows,
    Although I'm not the one to talk - I hate a man that blows.

    "But riding is my special gift, my chiefest, sole delight;
    Just ask a wild duck can it swim, a wild cat can it fight.
    There's nothing clothed in hair or hide, or built of flesh or steel,
    There's nothing walks or jumps, or runs, on axle, hoof or wheel,
    But what I'll sit, while hide will hold and girths and straps are tight;
    I'll ride this here two-wheeled concern right straight away at sight."

    'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that sought his own abode,
    That perched above the Dead Man's Creek, beside the mountain road.
    He turned the cycle down the hill and mounted for the fray,
    But ere he'd gone a dozen yards it bolted clean away.
    It left the track, and through the trees, just like a silver streak,
    It whistled down the awful slope towards the Dead Man's Creek.

    It shaved a stump by half an inch, it dodged a big white-box:
    The very wallaroos in fright went scrambling up the rocks,
    The wombats hiding in their caves dug deeper underground,
    But Mulga Bill, as white as chalk, clung tight to every bound.
    It struck a stone and gave a spring that cleared a fallen tree,
    It raced beside a precipice as close as close could be;
    And then, as Mulga Bill let out one last despairing shriek,
    It made a leap of twenty feet into the Dead Man's Creek.

    'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that slowly swam ashore:
    He said, "I've had some narrer shaves and lively rides before;
    I've rode a wild bull round a yard to win a five-pound bet,
    But that was sure the derndest ride that I've encountered yet.
    I'll give that two-wheeled outlaw best; it's shaken all my nerve
    To feel it whistle through the air and plunge and buck and swerve.
    It's safe at rest in Dead Man's Creek - we'll leave it lying still;
    A horse's back is good enough henceforth for Mulga Bill."

    Andrew Barton Paterson (the Banjo)
    "Study hard what interests you the most in the most undisciplined, irreverent and original manner possible."
    — Richard P. Feynman

    "Never tell a person a thing is impossible. G*d/the Universe may have been waiting all this time for someone ignorant enough of the impossibility to do just that thing."
    author unknown

  7. #177
    THIS bitch Array stringstheory's Avatar
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    Pablo Neruda's "Everyday You Play"

    Every day you play with the light of the universe.
    Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
    You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
    as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.

    You are like nobody since I love you.
    Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
    Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
    Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

    Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
    The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
    Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
    The rain takes off her clothes.

    The birds go by, fleeing.
    The wind. The wind.
    I can contend only against the power of men.
    The storm whirls dark leaves
    and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.

    You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
    You will answer me to the last cry.
    Cling to me as though you were frightened.
    Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.

    Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
    and even your breasts smell of it.
    While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
    I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

    How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
    my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
    So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
    and over our heads the gray light unwind in turning fans.

    My words rained over you, stroking you.
    A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
    I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
    I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
    dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
    I want
    to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

    ALSO ee cummings

    "i carry your heart"
    i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
    my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
    i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
    by only me is your doing, my darling)
    i fear
    no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
    no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
    and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
    and whatever a sun will always sing is you

    here is the deepest secret nobody knows
    (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
    and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
    higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
    and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

    i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

    "may i feel said he"
    may i feel said he
    (i'll squeal said she
    just once said he)
    it's fun said she

    (may i touch said he
    how much said she
    a lot said he)
    why not said she

    (let's go said he
    not too far said she
    what's too far said he
    where you are said she)

    may i stay said he
    which way said she
    like this said he
    if you kiss said she

    may i move said he
    is it love said she)
    if you're willing said he
    (but you're killing said she

    but it's life said he
    but your wife said she
    now said he)
    ow said she

    (tiptop said he
    don't stop said she
    oh no said he)
    go slow said she

    (cccome?said he
    ummm said she)
    you're divine!said he
    (you are Mine said she)


    Introverted Feeling (46.7)
    Extraverted Intuition (45.7)
    Introverted Intuition (37.5)
    Introverted Thinking(26.5)
    Extraverted Feeling (25.4)
    Extraverted Thinking (22.1)
    Extraverted Sensing (19.5)
    Introverted Sensing (17.0)



  8. #178

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    Anear the centre of that northern crest
    Stands out a level upland bleak and bare,
    From which the city east and south and west
    Sinks gently in long waves; and throned there
    An Image sits, stupendous, superhuman,
    The bronze colossus of a winged Woman,
    Upon a graded granite base foursquare.

    Low-seated she leans forward massively,
    With cheek on clenched left hand, the forearm's might
    Erect, its elbow on her rounded knee;
    Across a clasped book in her lap the right
    Upholds a pair of compasses; she gazes
    With full set eyes, but wandering in thick mazes
    Of sombre thought beholds no outward sight.

    Words cannot picture her; but all men know
    That solemn sketch the pure sad artist wrought
    Three centuries and threescore years ago,
    With phantasies of his peculiar thought:
    The instruments of carpentry and science
    Scattered about her feet, in strange alliance
    With the keen wolf-hound sleeping undistraught;

    Scales, hour-glass, bell, and magic-square above;
    The grave and solid infant perched beside,
    With open winglets that might bear a dove,
    Intent upon its tablets, heavy-eyed;
    Her folded wings as of a mighty eagle,
    But all too impotent to lift the regal
    Robustness of her earth-born strength and pride;

    And with those wings, and that light wreath which seems
    To mock her grand head and the knotted frown
    Of forehead charged with baleful thoughts and dreams,
    The household bunch of keys, the housewife's gown
    Voluminous, indented, and yet rigid
    As if a shell of burnished metal frigid,
    The feet thick-shod to tread all weakness down;

    The comet hanging o'er the waste dark seas,
    The massy rainbow curved in front of it
    Beyond the village with the masts and trees;
    The snaky imp, dog-headed, from the Pit,
    Bearing upon its batlike leathern pinions
    Her name unfolded in the sun's dominions,
    The "MELENCOLIA" that transcends all wit.

    Thus has the artist copied her, and thus
    Surrounded to expound her form sublime,
    Her fate heroic and calamitous;
    Fronting the dreadful mysteries of Time,
    Unvanquished in defeat and desolation,
    Undaunted in the hopeless conflagration
    Of the day setting on her baffled prime.

    Baffled and beaten back she works on still,
    Weary and sick of soul she works the more,
    Sustained by her indomitable will:
    The hands shall fashion and the brain shall pore,
    And all her sorrow shall be turned to labour,
    Till Death the friend-foe piercing with his sabre
    That mighty heart of hearts ends bitter war.

    But as if blacker night could dawn on night,
    With tenfold gloom on moonless night unstarred,
    A sense more tragic than defeat and blight,
    More desperate than strife with hope debarred,
    More fatal than the adamantine Never
    Encompassing her passionate endeavour,
    Dawns glooming in her tenebrous regard:

    To sense that every struggle brings defeat
    Because Fate holds no prize to crown success;
    That all the oracles are dumb or cheat
    Because they have no secret to express;
    That none can pierce the vast black veil uncertain
    Because there is no light beyond the curtain;
    That all is vanity and nothingness.


    Titanic from her high throne in the north,
    That City's sombre Patroness and Queen,
    In bronze sublimity she gazes forth
    Over her Capital of teen and threne,
    Over the river with its isles and bridges,
    The marsh and moorland, to the stern rock-bridges,
    Confronting them with a coeval mien.

    The moving moon and stars from east to west
    Circle before her in the sea of air;
    Shadows and gleams glide round her solemn rest.
    Her subjects often gaze up to her there:
    The strong to drink new strength of iron endurance,
    The weak new terrors; all, renewed assurance
    And confirmation of the old despair.

    From 'The City of Dreadful Night' by James Thomson.

  9. #179
    Senior Member Array InsatiableCuriosity's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Nicodemus View Post

    From 'The City of Dreadful Night' by James Thomson.
    This was haunting - I am about to google to see if the statue exists and look at it - thank you for posting this
    "Study hard what interests you the most in the most undisciplined, irreverent and original manner possible."
    — Richard P. Feynman

    "Never tell a person a thing is impossible. G*d/the Universe may have been waiting all this time for someone ignorant enough of the impossibility to do just that thing."
    author unknown

  10. #180
    Senior Member Array InsatiableCuriosity's Avatar
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    I first heard this from John Hannah in Four Weddings and a Funeral and it moved me immensely:

    After the Funeral - W.H.Auden

    Stop all the clocks, cut of the telephone
    Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone
    Silence the pianos and with a muffled drum
    Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come

    Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
    Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead
    Put cr�pe bows round the white necks of the public doves
    Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves

    He was my North, my South, my East and West
    My workingweek and my Sundayrest
    My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song
    I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong

    The stars are not wanted now, put out every one;
    Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
    Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood
    For nothing now can ever come to any good
    "Study hard what interests you the most in the most undisciplined, irreverent and original manner possible."
    — Richard P. Feynman

    "Never tell a person a thing is impossible. G*d/the Universe may have been waiting all this time for someone ignorant enough of the impossibility to do just that thing."
    author unknown

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