What is the best poem?

Question

I can you write it for me.

Answer 1

here it is. i'm only 14 so let me know if u like it [e-mail]

The Story of My Life

Running, running
Never stopping
Never gonna quit
Wind in my hair
Bare feet striking the warm sand with every step

Seeing, seeing
Figures in the haze
Oh, it’s my friends and family,
All smiling and waving,
Like they don’t know.

I try to scream,
Scream out for help
But nothing comes out
I try again…nothing.

So I just keep running
Cause I can see it coming up from
Behind as a small dot in the
Horizon.

Faster, faster
It’s coming up from behind
Just keep moving
Can’t let it catch up
Don’t ever stop
Getting so tired

Slowing, slowing
But I just can’t stop
Or it will get me
And never let me go
But I can’t,
I can’t go anymore
And I stop


Quickly searching, searching
Its no where in sight
But wait,
Here it comes,
Right up to me
And I try to fight it,
I really do

But it is strong
And so I struggle,
I struggle as it takes me
Holds me tight
Never letting go

Finally its over
…It won…
Story of my life

Answer 2

I have to go with The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Answer 3

EE Cumming's Humanity I love you all the way

Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you're hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you're flush pride keeps

you from the pawn shop and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it's there and sitting down

on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you

Answer 4

Probably, the best poem is I am nobody, who are you? By Emily Dickinson.At school, being popular sometimes seems like the most important thing in the world. We often think that being the center of attention would be fantastic — like being a famous movie star or athlete.

That's what Jesse Aarons thinks in Bridge to Terabithia until he meets Leslie Burke. Yet the speaker in Emily Dickinson's poem, "I'm nobody! Who are you?" readily admits to being an outsider. What's more, she even seems to like it. She says it would be "dreary" to be "somebody." Is she crazy? Who would want to be an outsider?

Think about it for a moment. Who would really want to be an insider?

As an outsider, a "nobody," the speaker is not forced to be "public." She does not have to face the scrutiny or disapproval of people who are likely to be jealous of her popularity. She does not have to play games, put on an act, or keep trying in order to be a somebody. She can be herself and be comfortable. What's more, she is not alone.

Answer 5

Other than my own (ha-ha), I'd go with Edgar Allan Poes Alone, TS Elliots The hollow men and Robert Frost Nothing gold can stay. The others are too long, but here is Frosts, to the best of my recollection...
Nature's first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold
Her early leafs a flower, but only so an hour
Then leaf subsides to leaf, so eden sank to grief
so dawn goes down to day, nothing gold can stay.

Its about youth/innocense and the loss of it.

Answer 6

One of my favorite poems at the moment is Thanatopsis by William Cullen Bryant. It is incredibly interesting and the fact that he wrote half of it over 40 years before he wrote the other half is amazing. The mood shift in the poem is very easily noticed, and I think it represents the feelings of a lot of individuals. The title is made of the two Greek words, Thantos (personification of death in Greek mythology) and the suffix opsis (appearance). It's beautifully written, and a VERY important poem in American history. You can go to http://www.bartleby.com/102/16.html to read it.

Answer 7

There are lots of great poems out there. I think poetry is best that speaks to you, or is meaningful to you.
Here is one of my favorites "The Waking." By Theodore Roethke:

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.


Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

Answer 8

Do you want original poems or pre-published? I'd pick John Donne's "The Flea"

Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is ;
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead ;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two ;
And this, alas ! is more than we would do.

O stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is.
Though parents grudge, and you, we're met,
And cloister'd in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.

Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it suck'd from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou
Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now.
'Tis true ; then learn how false fears be ;
Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.

Answer 9

I'm going to go with T.S Eliot's 'The Hollow Men'. Or Tennyson's 'In Memoriam.'

If you want to read them, buy a book. Too long to type out here.

Answer 10

Mary Mary quite contrary
Shave that pu$$y its to damn hairy