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Thread: Favourite Poems & Poems that moved you

  1. #181
    Senior Member Array iamathousandapples's Avatar
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    John Cooper Clarke - "Evidently Chickentown"

    the fucking cops are fucking keen
    to fucking keep it fucking clean
    the fucking chief's a fucking swine
    who fucking draws a fucking line
    at fucking fun and fucking games
    the fucking kids he fucking blames
    are nowehere to be fucking found
    anywhere in chicken town

    the fucking scene is fucking sad
    the fucking news is fucking bad
    the fucking weed is fucking turf
    the fucking speed is fucking surf
    the fucking folks are fucking daft
    don't make me fucking laugh
    it fucking hurts to look around
    everywhere in chicken town

    the fucking train is fucking late
    you fucking wait you fucking wait
    you're fucking lost and fucking found
    stuck in fucking chicken town

    the fucking view is fucking vile
    for fucking miles and fucking miles
    the fucking babies fucking cry
    the fucking flowers fucking die
    the fucking food is fucking muck
    the fucking drains are fucking fucked
    the colour scheme is fucking brown
    everywhere in chicken town

    the fucking pubs are fucking dull
    the fucking clubs are fucking full
    of fucking girls and fucking guys
    with fucking murder in their eyes
    a fucking bloke is fucking stabbed
    waiting for a fucking cab
    you fucking stay at fucking home
    the fucking neighbors fucking moan
    keep the fucking racket down
    this is fucking chicken town
    the fucking train is fucking late
    you fucking wait you fucking wait
    you're fucking lost and fucking found
    stuck in fucking chicken town

    the fucking pies are fucking old
    the fucking chips are fucking cold
    the fucking beer is fucking flat
    the fucking flats have fucking rats
    the fucking clocks are fucking wrong
    the fucking days are fucking long
    it fucking gets you fucking down
    evidently chicken town

  2. #182
    Senior Member Array InsatiableCuriosity's Avatar
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    These are lovely tho the first is my favourite..

    Quote Originally Posted by stringstheory View Post
    Pablo Neruda's "Everyday You Play"

    ALSO ee cummings

    "i carry your heart"

    ...and this one is a hoot!

    "may i feel said he"
    These are beautiful!
    "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

  3. #183
    Senior Member Array InsatiableCuriosity's Avatar
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    I think that this author needs to find a dictionary - his vocabulary IS rather limited isn't it?

    Quote Originally Posted by iamathousandapples View Post
    John Cooper Clarke - "Evidently Chickentown"
    "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. #184
    That's my name biotch! Array JoSunshine's Avatar
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    ANNABELLE LEE

    Author: Edgar Allan Poe

    It was many and many a year ago,
    In a kingdom by the sea,
    That a maiden there lived whom you may know
    By the name of Annabel Lee;
    And this maiden she lived with no other thought
    Than to love and be loved by me.

    I was a child and she was a child,
    In this kingdom by the sea;
    But we loved with a love that was more than love -
    I and my Annabel Lee;
    With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
    Coveted her and me.
    And this was the reason that, long ago,
    In this kingdom by the sea,
    A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
    My beautiful Annabel Lee;
    So that her highborn kinsman came
    And bore her away from me,
    To shut her up in a sepulcher
    In this kingdom by the sea.
    The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
    Went envying her and me
    Yes! that was the reason
    (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)
    That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
    Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

    But our love was stronger by far than the love
    Of those who were older than we
    Of many far wiser than we
    And neither the angels in heaven above,
    Nor the demons down under the sea,
    Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
    For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
    And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
    And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
    Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
    In the sepulcher there by the sea,
    In her tomb by the sounding sea.
    "Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind. " - Dr. Seuss
    I can't spell...get over it

    Slightly ENFJ, totally JoSunshine
    Extroverted (E) 52.5%........Introverted (I) 47.5%
    Intuitive (N) 65.63%..........Sensing (S) 34.38%
    Feeling (F) 55.56%............Thinking (T) 44.44%
    Judging (J) 51.43%............Perceiving (P) 48.57%

  5. #185
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    Stephen Crane

    In the Desert

    In the desert
    I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
    Who, squatting upon the ground,
    Held his heart in his hands,
    And ate of it.
    I said, "Is it good, friend?"
    "It is bitter – bitter", he answered,
    "But I like it
    Because it is bitter,
    And because it is my heart."


    (apologies for the shocking punctuation below, I cbf fixing it >.<)
    E.E Cummings

    Somewhere I Have Never Traveled, Gladly Beyond

    somewhere i have never traveled,gladly beyond
    any experience,your eyes have their silence:
    in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
    or which i cannot touch because they are too near

    your slightest look easily will unclose me
    though i have closed myself as fingers,
    you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
    (touching skilfully, mysteriously)her first rose

    or if your wish be to close me, i and
    my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
    as when the heart of this flower imagines
    the snow carefully everywhere descending;

    nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
    the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
    compels me with the color of its countries,
    rendering death and forever with each breathing

    (I do not know what it is about you that closes
    and opens;only something in me understands
    the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
    nobody, not even the rain,has such small hands

  6. #186
    Starcrossed Seafarer Array Aquarelle's Avatar
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    This is one of the first poems that really spoke to me, and I still love it:

    I Remember
    Anne Sexton

    By the first of August
    the invisible beetles began
    to snore and the grass was
    as tough as hemp and was
    no color - no more than
    the sand was a color and
    we had worn our bare feet
    bare since the twentieth
    of June and there were times
    we forgot to wind up your
    alarm clock and some nights
    we took our gin warm and neat
    from old jelly glasses while
    the sun blew out of sight
    like a red picture hat and
    one day I tied my hair back
    with a ribbon and you said
    that I looked almost like
    a puritan lady and what
    I remember best is that
    the door to your room was
    the door to mine.
    Masquerading as a normal person day after day is exhausting.

    My blog:
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  7. #187

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    Sonnet XVII

    I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
    or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
    I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
    in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

    I love you as the plant that never blooms
    but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
    thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
    risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

    I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
    I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
    so I love you because I know no other way

    than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
    so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
    so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.


    - Pablo Neruda

    And, Annabelle Lee, nice one, JoSunshine!

  8. #188
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    I
    Put in mind of his own father and moved to tears
    Achilles took him by the hand and pushed the old king
    Gently away, but Priam curled up at his feet and
    Wept with him until their sadness filled the buidling.

    II
    Taking Hector's corpse into his own hands Achilles
    Made sure it was washed and, for the old king's sake,
    Laid out in uniform, ready for Priam to carry
    Wrapped like a present home to Troy at daybreak.

    III
    When they had eaten together, it pleased them both
    To stare at each other's beauty as lovers might,
    Achilles built like a god, Priam good-looking still
    And full of conversation, who earlier had sighed:

    IV
    'I get down on my knees and do what must be done
    And kiss Achilles' hand, the killer of my son.'

    "Ceasefire" by Michael Longley. I think it is extremely powerful (I even cried when we covered it in English class this year. ) It's essentially about the Troubles in Northern Ireland.

  9. #189
    Starcrossed Seafarer Array Aquarelle's Avatar
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    Oh and this one:

    A WHITE ROSE
    John Boyle O'Reilly

    The red rose whispers of passion,
    And the white rose breathes of love;
    Oh, the red rose is a falcon,
    And the white rose is a dove.

    But I send you a cream-white rose bud
    With a flush on its petal tips;
    For the love that is purest and sweetest
    Has a kiss of desire on the lips.


    I used to be quite puritan in my ideals when I was younger, and this is the poem that made me realize lust wasn't such a bad thing, after all.
    Masquerading as a normal person day after day is exhausting.

    My blog:
    TypeC: Adventures of an Introvert
    Wordpress: http://introvertadventures.wordpress.com/

  10. #190
    Senior Member Array KDude's Avatar
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    My good blade carves the casques of men,
    My tough lance thrusteth sure,
    My strength is as the strength of ten,
    Because my heart is pure.
    The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
    The hard brands shiver on the steel,
    The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly,
    The horse and rider reel:
    They reel, they roll in clanging lists,
    And when the tide of combat stands,
    Perfume and flowers fall in showers,
    That lightly rain from ladies' hands.

    How sweet are looks that ladies bend
    On whom their favours fall!
    For them I battle till the end,
    To save from shame and thrall:
    But all my heart is drawn above,
    My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine:
    I never felt the kiss of love,
    Nor maiden's hand in mine.
    More bounteous aspects on me beam,
    Me mightier transports move and thrill;
    So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer
    A virgin heart in work and will.

    When down the stormy crescent goes,
    A light before me swims,
    Between dark stems the forest glows,
    I hear a noise of hymns:
    Then by some secret shrine I ride;
    I hear a voice but none are there;
    The stalls are void, the doors are wide,
    The tapers burning fair.
    Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,
    The silver vessels sparkle clean,
    The shrill bell rings, the censer swings,
    And solemn chaunts resound between.

    Sometime on lonely mountain-meres
    I find a magic bark;
    I leap on board: no helmsman steers:
    I float till all is dark.
    A gentle sound, an awful light!
    Three angels bear the holy Grail:
    With folded feet, in stoles of white,
    On sleeping wings they sail.
    Ah, blessed vision! blood of God!
    My spirit beats her mortal bars,
    As down dark tides the glory slides,
    And star-like mingles with the stars.

    When on my goodly charger borne
    Thro' dreaming towns I go,
    The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,
    The streets are dumb with snow.
    The tempest crackles on the leads,
    And, ringing, springs from brand and mail;
    But o'er the dark a glory spreads,
    And gilds the driving hail.
    I leave the plain, I climb the height;
    No branchy thicket shelter yields;
    But blessed forms in whistling storms
    Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.

    A maiden knight--to me is given
    Such hope, I know not fear;
    I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven
    That often meet me here.
    I muse on joy that will not cease,
    Pure spaces clothed in living beams,
    Pure lilies of eternal peace,
    Whose odours haunt my dreams;
    And, stricken by an angel's hand,
    This mortal armour that I wear,
    This weight and size, this heart and eyes,
    Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air.

    The clouds are broken in the sky,
    And thro' the mountain-walls
    A rolling organ-harmony
    Swells up, and shakes and falls.
    Then move the trees, the copses nod,
    Wings flutter, voices hover clear:
    "O just and faithful knight of God!
    Ride on! the prize is near."
    So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;
    By bridge and ford, by park and pale,
    All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide,
    Until I find the holy Grail.

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