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Thread: Favourite Poems & Poems that moved you

  1. #311
    meh Array Salomé's Avatar
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    Do not stand at my grave and weep,
    I am not there; I do not sleep.
    I am a thousand winds that blow,
    I am the diamond glints on snow,
    I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
    I am the gentle autumn rain.
    When you awaken in the morning’s hush
    I am the swift uplifting rush
    Of quiet birds in circled flight.
    I am the soft stars that shine at night.
    Do not stand at my grave and cry,
    I am not there; I did not die.
    ~Mary Frye

  2. #312
    (in)formation Array Wind Up Rex's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Salomé View Post
    Do not stand at my grave and weep,
    I am not there; I do not sleep.
    I am a thousand winds that blow,
    I am the diamond glints on snow,
    I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
    I am the gentle autumn rain.
    When you awaken in the morning’s hush
    I am the swift uplifting rush
    Of quiet birds in circled flight.
    I am the soft stars that shine at night.
    Do not stand at my grave and cry,
    I am not there; I did not die.
    ~Mary Frye
    We are the Dead. Short days ago
    We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
    In Flanders fields.

  3. #313
    Banned Array
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    Thou art my delight and the warmth of my heart; [24]
    Thou makest me without fear of Fate or of Death;
    Thou breakest the chains and bars
    Whence few come forth free.
    Seasons, years, months, days and hours --
    The children and weapons of Time -- and that Court
    Where neither steel nor treasure [25] avail
    Have secured me from the fury [of the foe].
    Henceforth I spread confident wings to space;
    I fear no barrier of crystal or of glass;
    I cleave the heavens and soar to the infinite.
    And while I rise from my own globe to others
    And penetrate ever further through the eternal field,
    That which others saw from afar, I leave far behind me. [26]
    ~ Giordano Bruno

  4. #314
    Immanentize the Eschaton Array Starry's Avatar
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    "Written by Himself" -Gregory Pardlo


    I was born in minutes in a roadside kitchen
    a skillet whispering my name. I was born to rainwater
    and lye;

    I was born across the river where I was borrowed with clothespins,
    a harrow tooth, broadsides sewn in my shoes. I returned,
    though it please you, through no fault of my own, pockets filled
    with coffee grounds and eggshells.

    I was born still and superstitious; I bore an unexpected burden.
    I gave birth, I gave blessing, I gave rise to suspicion. I was born
    abandoned outdoors in the heat-shaped air, air drifting like spirits
    and old windows.

    I was born a fraction and a cipher and a ledger entry;
    I was an index of first lines when I was born.
    I was born waist-deep stubborn in the water crying ain’t I a woman
    and a brother?

    I was born to this hall of mirrors, this horror movie. I was born
    with a prologue of references, pursued by mosquitoes and thieves, I was born
    passing off the problem of the twentieth century: I was born.

    I read minds before I could read fishes and loaves;
    I walked a piece of the way alone before I was born.

  5. #315
    Alma Array five sounds's Avatar
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    We Are Made One With What We Touch And See
    Oscar Wilde

    We are resolved into the supreme air,
    We are made one with what we touch and see,
    With our heart’s blood each crimson sun is fair,
    With our young lives each spring-impassioned tree
    Flames into green, the wildest beasts that range
    The moor our kinsmen are, all life is one, and all is change.

    With beat of systole and of diastole
    One grand great life throbs through earth’s giant heart,
    And mighty waves of single Being roll
    From nerve-less germ to man, for we are part
    Of every rock and bird and beast and hill,
    One with the things that prey on us, and one with what we kill. . . .

    One sacrament are consecrate, the earth
    Not we alone hath passions hymeneal,
    The yellow buttercups that shake for mirth
    At daybreak know a pleasure not less real
    Than we do, when in some fresh-blossoming wood
    We draw the spring into our hearts, and feel that life is good. . . .

    Is the light vanished from our golden sun,
    Or is this daedal-fashioned earth less fair,
    That we are nature’s heritors, and one
    With every pulse of life that beats the air?
    Rather new suns across the sky shall pass,
    New splendour come unto the flower, new glory to the grass.

    And we two lovers shall not sit afar,
    Critics of nature, but the joyous sea
    Shall be our raiment, and the bearded star
    Shoot arrows at our pleasure! We shall be
    Part of the mighty universal whole,
    And through all Aeons mix and mingle with the Kosmic Soul!

    We shall be notes in that great Symphony
    Whose cadence circles through the rhythmic spheres,
    And all the live World’s throbbing heart shall be
    One with our heart, the stealthy creeping years
    Have lost their terrors now, we shall not die,
    The Universe itself shall be our Immortality!
    You hem me in -- behind and before;
    you have laid your hand upon me.
    Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
    too lofty for me to attain.


  6. #316
    ndovjtjcaqidthi
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    Death Is Like The Insect - Emily Dickinson

    Death is like the insect
    Menacing the tree,
    Competent to kill it,
    But decoyed may be.

    Bait it with the balsam,
    Seek it with the saw,
    Baffle, if it cost you
    Everything you are.

    Then, if it have burrowed
    Out of reach of skill —
    Wring the tree and leave it,
    'Tis the vermin's will.

  7. #317
    Senior Member Array Mal12345's Avatar
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    First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out--
    Because I was not a Socialist.

    Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out--
    Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

    Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out--
    Because I was not a Jew.

    Then they came for me--and there was no one left to speak for me.

    ~

    "Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
    And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
    Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds -
    and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of -
    wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence.
    Hovering there I've chased the shouting wind along
    and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.

    "Up, up the long delirious burning blue
    I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
    where never lark, or even eagle, flew;
    and, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
    the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
    put out my hand and touched the face of God."
    Reminder (for others):
    Your = belonging to you, you're = you are, they're = they are, their = belonging to them, there = not here.

  8. #318
    now! in shell form Array INA's Avatar
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    A certain someone already posted Mary Oliver's wild geese.
    I'll have to content myself with two other old favorites.


    Dream Song 14
    By John Berryman

    Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
    After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
    we ourselves flash and yearn,
    and moreover my mother told me as a boy
    (repeatingly) ‘Ever to confess you’re bored
    means you have no

    Inner Resources.’ I conclude now I have no
    inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
    Peoples bore me,
    literature bores me, especially great literature,
    Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
    as bad as achilles,

    who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
    And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
    and somehow a dog
    has taken itself & its tail considerably away
    into mountains or sea or sky, leaving
    behind: me, wag.


    Dream Song 4
    By John Berryman

    Filling her compact & delicious body
    with chicken páprika, she glanced at me
    twice.
    Fainting with interest, I hungered back
    and only the fact of her husband & four other people
    kept me from springing on her

    or falling at her little feet and crying
    'You are the hottest one for years of night
    Henry's dazed eyes
    have enjoyed, Brilliance.' I advanced upon
    (despairing) my spumoni.—Sir Bones: is stuffed,
    de world, wif feeding girls.

    —Black hair, complexion Latin, jewelled eyes
    downcast ... The slob beside her feasts ... What wonders is
    she sitting on, over there?
    The restaurant buzzes. She might as well be on Mars.
    Where did it all go wrong? There ought to be a law against Henry.
    —Mr. Bones: there is.
    Last edited by INA; 10-03-2013 at 10:50 AM.
    hoarding time and space
    A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To live is to be slowly born.
    — Antoine de Saint-Exupery

  9. #319
    Immanentize the Eschaton Array Starry's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by INA View Post
    A certain someone already posted Mary Oliver's wild geese.
    I'll have to content myself with two other old favorites.
    <3

    ***********************************


    Donal Óg
    Translated from an anonymous eighth-century Irish poem
    by Lady Gregory

    It was late last night the dog was speaking of you;
    the snipe was speaking of you in her deep marsh.
    It is you that is the lonely bird through the woods;
    and that you may be without a mate until you find me.

    You promised me, and you said a lie to me,
    that you would be before me where the sheep are flocked;
    I gave a whistle and three hundred cries to you,
    and I found nothing there but a bleating lamb.

    You promised me a thing that was hard got you,
    a ship of gold under a silver mast;
    twelve towns with a market in all of them,
    and a fine white court by the side of the sea.

    You promised me a thing that is not possible,
    that you would give me gloves of the skin of a fish;
    that you would give me shoes of the skin of a bird;
    and a suit of the dearest silk in Ireland.

    My mother said to me not to be talking with you today,
    or tomorrow, or on the Sunday;
    it was a bad time she took for telling me that;
    it was shutting the door after the house was robbed.

    You have taken the east from me; you have taken the west from me;
    you have taken what is before me and what is behind me;
    you have taken the moon, you have taken the sun from me;
    and my fear is great that you have taken God from me.
    Last edited by Starry; 10-03-2013 at 12:49 PM.

  10. #320
    now! in shell form Array INA's Avatar
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    One Art
    by Elizabeth Bishop

    The art of losing isn't hard to master;
    so many things seem filled with the intent
    to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

    Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
    of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
    The art of losing isn't hard to master.

    Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
    places, and names, and where it was you meant
    to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

    I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
    next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
    The art of losing isn't hard to master.

    I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
    some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
    I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


    —Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
    I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
    the art of losing's not too hard to master
    though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
    hoarding time and space
    A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To live is to be slowly born.
    — Antoine de Saint-Exupery

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