give 5 favorite poets along with a breif explaination about them?Plz answer?

Answer 1

"I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud"


I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed---and gazed---but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth


Inspiration


Whate'er we leave to God, God does,
And blesses us;
The work we choose should be our own,
God leaves alone.

If with light head erect I sing,
Though all the Muses lend their force,
From my poor love of anything,
The verse is weak and shallow as its source.

But if with bended neck I grope
Listening behind me for my wit,
With faith superior to hope,
More anxious to keep back than forward it;

Making my soul accomplice there
Unto the flame my heart hath lit,
Then will the verse forever wear--
Time cannot bend the line which God hath writ.

Always the general show of things
Floats in review before my mind,
And such true love and reverence brings,
That sometimes I forget that I am blind.

But now there comes unsought, unseen,
Some clear divine electuary,
And I, who had but sensual been,
Grow sensible, and as God is, am wary.

I hearing get, who had but ears,
And sight, who had but eyes before,
I moments live, who lived but years,
And truth discern, who knew but learning's lore.

I hear beyond the range of sound,
I see beyond the range of sight,
New earths and skies and seas around,
And in my day the sun doth pale his light.

A clear and ancient harmony
Pierces my soul through all its din,
As through its utmost melody--
Farther behind than they, farther within.

More swift its bolt than lightning is,
Its voice than thunder is more loud,
It doth expand my privacies
To all, and leave me single in the crowd.

It speaks with such authority,
With so serene and lofty tone,
That idle Time runs gadding by,
And leaves me with Eternity alone.

Now chiefly is my natal hour,
And only now my prime of life;
Of manhood's strength it is the flower,
'Tis peace's end and war's beginning strife.

It comes in summer's broadest noon,
By a grey wall or some chance place,
Unseasoning Time, insulting June,
And vexing day with its presuming face.

Such fragrance round my couch it makes,
More rich than are Arabian drugs,
That my soul scents its life and wakes
The body up beneath its perfumed rugs.

Such is the Muse, the heavenly maid,
The star that guides our mortal course,
Which shows where life's true kernel's laid,
Its wheat's fine flour, and its undying force.

She with one breath attunes the spheres,
And also my poor human heart,
With one impulse propels the years
Around, and gives my throbbing pulse its start.

I will not doubt for evermore,
Nor falter from a steadfast faith,
For thought the system be turned o'er,
God takes not back the word which once He saith.

I will not doubt the love untold
Which not my worth nor want has bought,
Which wooed me young, and woos me old,
And to this evening hath me brought.

My memory I'll educate
To know the one historic truth,
Remembering to the latest date
The only true and sole immortal youth.

Be but thy inspiration given,
No matter through what danger sought,
I'll fathom hell or climb to heaven,
And yet esteem that cheap which love has bought.
___________________

Fame cannot tempt the bard
Who's famous with his God,
Nor laurel him reward
Who has his Maker's nod.

Henry David Thoreau

A Mile With Me


O who will walk a mile with me
Along life's merry way?
A comrade blithe and full of glee,
Who dares to laugh out loud and free,
And let his frolic fancy play,
Like a happy child, through the flowers gay
That fill the field and fringe the way
Where he walks a mile with me.

And who will walk a mile with me
Along life's weary way?
A friend whose heart has eyes to see
The stars shine out o'er the darkening lea,
And the quiet rest at the end o' the day,--
A friend who knows, and dares to say,
The brave, sweet words that cheer the way
Where he walks a mile with me.

With such a comrade, such a friend,
I fain would walk till journeys end,
Through summer sunshine, winter rain,
And then?--Farewell, we shall meet again!

Henry Van Dyke

From you have I been absent in the spring


From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him.
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odour and in hue
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew.
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.

William Shakespeare


The Trees in the Garden Rained Flowers


The trees in the garden rained flowers.
Children ran there joyously.
They gathered the flowers
Each to himself.
Now there were some
Who gathered great heaps --
Having opportunity and skill --
Until, behold, only chance blossoms
Remained for the feeble.
Then a little spindling tutor
Ran importantly to the father, crying:
"Pray, come hither!
See this unjust thing in your garden!"
But when the father had surveyed,
He admonished the tutor:
"Not so, small sage!
This thing is just.
For, look you,
Are not they who possess the flowers
Stronger, bolder, shrewder
Than they who have none?
Why should the strong --
The beautiful strong --
Why should they not have the flowers?"
Upon reflection, the tutor bowed to the ground,
"My lord," he said,
"The stars are displaced
By this towering wisdom."

Stephen Maria Crane


Brief explanations:

William Shakespeare's legacy is a body of work that will never again be equaled in Western civilization. His words have endured for 400 years, and still reach across the centuries as powerfully as ever. Even in death, he leaves a final piece of verse as his epitaph.

Henry Van Dyke's stature as a literary critic, though solid throughout the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, has consistently dwindled since the 1920s. Though some of his work has remained popular with the general public--an edition of The Story of the Other Wise Man appeared in 1959--most critics today view him as a man of Victorian taste whose attitude toward the function of literature was too narrow and whose Christianity sat perhaps too easily on his shoulders. Yet, the man Helen Keller called "an architect of happiness" accomplished much; he was an influential and powerful speaker and writer who tried to bridge the gap created by World War I and contend positively with a world of growing scepticism and despair.

From 1841-3 Thoreau lived in Emerson's house, employed as a general handyman, and became a disciple of his. Indeed he has been described as the answer to Emerson's plea for an American Scholar. During this period he got to know members of the Transcendental Club and published a few poems in The Dial and other magazines. Returning to Concord, Thoreau built himself a hut at nearby Walden pond with the intention of following the ideals of Transcendentalism. Rather than becoming part of a co-operative community as some of his contemporaries had, he sought solitude to enable himself to return to the natural simplicity of life. He lived alone on Walden pond from 4 July 1845 to 6 September 1847, significantly choosing to leave society on Independence Day. Making a pun of his name he called himself a thorough man and occupied each day carefully observing and recording experiences and thoughts in his journals. At this time he wrote his most famous work, Walden. His one day away from the pond was due to imprisonment for refusing to pay his poll tax in protest against the government's involvement in the Mexican War. His essay Civil Disobedience put forward ideas of passive resistance later adopted by Gandhi.

Today Wordsworth's poetry remains widely read. Its almost universal appeal is perhaps best explained by Wordsworth's own words on the role, for him, of poetry; what he called "the most philosophical of all writing" whose object is "truth...carried alive into the heart by passion".

Stephen Maria Crane
The secret of Crane's success as war correspondent, journalist, novelist, short-story writer, and poet lay in his achieving tensions between irony and pity, illusion and reality, or the double mood of hope contradicted by despair. Crane was a great stylist and a master of the contradictory effect.

Answer 2

I love Atreyu's lyrics. Evanescence's are pretty good too.

But Cradle Of Filth wins. They're so dark but so incredibly mesmerizing. I guess this is classified as poetry.



Nymphetamine (Deva-Fix)


Lead to the river
Midsummer, I waved
A 'V'' of black swans
On with hope to the grave
All through Red September
With skies fire-paved
I begged you appear
Like a thorn for the holy ones

Cold was my soul
Untold was the pain
I faced when you left me
A rose in the rain
So I swore to the razor
That never enchained
Would your dark nails of faith
Be pushed through my veins again?

Bared on your tomb
I'm a prayer for your loneliness
And would you ever soon
Come above unto me?
For once upon a time
From the binds of your lowliness
I could always find
The right slot for your sacred key

Six feet deep is the incision
In my heart, that barless prison
Discolours all with tunnel vision
Sunsetter
Nymphetamine
Sick and weak from my condition
This lust, this vampyric addiction
To her alone in full submission
None better
Nymphetamine

Nymphetamine, nymphetamine
Nymphetamine girl
Nymphetamine, nymphetamine
My nymphetamine girl

Wracked with your charm
I am circled like prey
Back in the forest
Where whispers persuade
More sugar trails
More white lady laid
Than pillars of salt

Fold to my arms
Hold their mesmeric sway
And dance her to the moon
As we did in those golden days

Christening stars
I remember the way
We were needle and spoon
Mislaid in the burning hay

Bared on your tomb
I am a prayer for your loneliness
And would you ever soon
Come above unto me?
For once upon a time
From the bind of your holiness
I could always find
The right slot for your sacred key

Six feet deep is the incision
In my heart, that barless prison
Discolours all with tunnel vision
Sunsetter
Nymphetamine
Sick and weak from my condition
This lust, this vampyric addiction
To her alone in full submission
None better
Nymphetamine

Sunsetter
Nymphetamine
None better
Nymphetamine

Nymphetamine, nymphetamine
Nymphetamine girl
Nymphetamine, nymphetamine
My nymphetamine girl

Answer 3

I don't have five favorites, just one... Nikki Giovanni. She's great. Ego tripping is the best and sexiest poem in the world (in my opinion)

I was born in the Congo.
I walked to the Fertile Crescent and built the sphinx.
I designed a pyramid so tough that a star
that only glows every one hundred years falls
into the center giving divine perfect light.

I am bad.

I sat on the throne
drinking nectar with Allah.
I got hot and sent an ice age to Europe
to cool my thirst.
My oldest daughter is Nefertiti.
The tears from my birth pains
created the Nile.

I am a beautiful woman.

I gazed on the forest and burned
out the Sahara desert.
With a packet of goat's meat
and a change of clothes,
I crossed it in two hours.
I am a gazelle so swift,
so swift you can't catch me.

For a birthday present when he was three,
I gave my son Hannibal an elephant.
He gave me Rome for mother's day.

My strength flows ever on.

My son Noah built an ark and
I stood proudly at the helm
as we sailed on a soft summer day.
I turned myself into myself and was Jesus.

Men intone my loving name.
All praises all praises,
I am the one who would save.

I sowed diamonds in my back yard.
My bowels deliver uranium.
The filings from my fingernails are
semi-precious jewels.

On a trip north,
I caught a cold and blew
my nose giving oil to the Arab world.
I am so hip even my errors are correct.
I sailed west to reach east and had to round off
the earth as I went.
The hair from my head thinned and gold was laid
across three continents.

I am so perfect so divine so ethereal so surreal.
I cannot be comprehended except by my permission.
I mean...I...can fly
like a bird in the sky...

Answer 4

You should go to the library and pick up an anthology of poetry. Flip through and see which poems appeal to you. Once you've got that list, start researching their lives and construct your answer there.

Don't be afraid to reference modern poets, like Bob Dylan or Rakim!

Answer 5

Usaforklift - he has replaced Russell G - no longer usurped him on account that Russell no longer posts at here, yet u . s . has long previous some thank you to fill the hollow he left. i ought to record an excellent type of poets whose artwork I savour, yet I wager (me being me), with a failing memory i could be certain to go away some-one out who could be mortally wounded via my oversight.

Answer 6

1. shel silverstein-( boy named sue)
2. rodger waters
3. johnny cash
4. tracy chapman
5. dudes from Hot Water Music

Answer 7

Check Out Jesse Ball he is a genius. Arthur Rimbaud he is a genius. Baudelaire is also a genius. i think jim morrisons poems are quite good. hmmm ezra pound. Check out wikipedia