What's your favourite poem?

Question

Mine's 'The Raven' by Edgar Alan Poe

Answer 1

All of mine (even though they are mostly prose)

This is another subject where there are too many answers...

I like everything Rike ever wrote
Carroll
Sexton
Plath
Crane
Cummings
Lowell

in other words all of the beat or confessional/expiremental poets.

Dante
rosetti
browning
Byron
Shelley


God, I could go on for days... Just pick anything by any of them and I will nod if you ask me if it is my favorite.

I do love The Panther. By: Rilke though... It is a long time favorite of mine.

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars, and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tense, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.

Answer 2

"The Ballad of Reading Gaol" by Oscar Wilde. If you like "the Raven" you will probably appreciate it, too. It is about the last days of a man that is to go to the scaffold for killing his lover.

"I walked, with other souls in pain,
Within another ring,
And was wondering if the man had done
A great or little thing,
When a voice behind me whispered low,
"That fellows got to swing."

Dear Christ! the very prison walls
Suddenly seemed to reel,
And the sky above my head became
Like a casque of scorching steel;
And, though I was a soul in pain,
My pain I could not feel."

Read the entire poem on the site below:

Answer 3

Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the bottom boughs and the brushwood sheaf around the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, at the same time as the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England--now!! R Browning - domicile concepts from abroad ... even with the undeniable fact that the Betjeman Pontefract verse made me smile.

Answer 4

Your words no more than a whisper
Your faces so unclear
I try to pay attention
Your words just disappear

'Cause its always raining in my head
Forget all the thing's I should have said

So I speak to you in riddles because
My words get in my way. I smoke the
whole thing to my head and feel it
wash away 'cause i can't take anymore
of this, dont want to come apart.
or dig myself a little hole inside
your precious heart

'Cause its always raining in my head
Forget all the things I should have said

I am nothing more than a little boy inside
That cries out for attention
though I always try to hide
'Cause I talk to you like children,
Though I don't know how I feel
But I know I'll do the right thing
If the right thing is revealed

'Cause its always raining in my head
Forget all the things I should have said

Answer 5

I LOVE poems. I love most any poem. I truly enjoy all of "The
Classics". It would be next to impossible to name only one, as
my favorite. BTW, I love Edgar A. Poe.

Answer 6

"Black Marigolds" by Bilhana - before Christ was born, he gave the world one of its most marvellous epic poems. Translated by E. Powys Mathers (An Anthology of World Poetry by Mark Van Doren)

Also...Pablo Neruda's "And Suddenly.." - anything by George Seferis. And this one...which I found in a book...who was she?

Paradise Garden

Rose-bright the borders, ferns and foxgloves fight
To gain attention, strive towards the light
Sweet confusion greets my glad travail
Earth-ochre knees, adoring hands have I.

My thoughts are as a garden-plot
All history and past desires forgot
Recall no sweetness but of your speaking
Reflect no light but of your giving.

Touch sweet Rosemary for remembrance,
To hoe, to weed such gentle encumbrance
Jasmine the spirit emanations breathe,
I cling to thee, as roots do grow beneath.

As poppies bend towards the sun, so I
Incline my gaze, reflect upon my Lord
Travail in hope that he may smile and say
God’s truth, Her hoe is mightier than my sword!

When dusk and evening shadows fall at last
Light hands, full hearts consume a rich repast
Cherry lips, an apple cheek, Peach-soft breast,
Damask hips, asparagus tips in Heaven’s nest.

Come stray into the garden, darling boy
Where Mother nature’s bounty bursts for joy
Opium-rich, ripe fruit in sweet corruption lies
Savour the juice! The day, the day it dies.

Answer 7

Bonnie Barbara Allen.

Answer 8

The Ballad of Sam Magee

Answer 9

The Lady of Shallot.

"Out flew the web and floated wide..." Magic.

And I've always loved this (though it probably doesn't count):

There was a young lady called Bright
Whose speed was far faster than light
She set out one day
In a relative way
And returned home the previous night.

Brilliant.

Gareth B: That was If by Rudyard Kipling. "If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs..." I think, anyway

Answer 10

"13-12-43" by Manolis Anagnostakis
http://greece.poetryinternationalweb.org/piw_cms/cms/cms_module/index.php?obj_id=2564&x=1