Any poets out there that would like to share their own masterpiece or favorite poem with me??

Question

I have always had an affinity for the written word. I think poetry is simply beautiful. It's a way to express your inner most feelings in an artistic form. If you don't write poetry just enjoy it you can post your favorite poem and who wrote it. Thanks!!

Answer 1

I wrote this poem about 2 years ago after dealing with some emotional-relationship issues. This poem is a monotetra, which is a newer style of "classical" poetry.

Inside Of Her

Passion moves her to the twilight
The surge of her madness takes flight
In dreams she steals upon his night
He cannot fight, He cannot fight

A dagger of fire and her pain
One kiss before it hurts again
The lips that bleed struggle in vain
On him she rains, on him she rains

The cry, the ache, her bitter sea
She rocks him now, he is set free
Unable to move or to plea
He cannot see, he cannot see

She dances against his desire
Around, around his mind on fire
Only stopping when she tires
Rising higher, rising higher

It is over, he is no more
She takes her pain from off the floor
She leaves through his revolving door
She came before, she came before

©Bryanne Salazar, 2007

Answer 2

Pocket Change

I found a penny in my pocket
And I immediately thought of you
Copper was your hair the first time we met
Skin lightly freckled, how could I forget
Though the years have been more than a few

In my desk I keep the locket
That has that first picture of you
From the few I took that day at the Met
Our first opera, first kiss, ah, I’ll never forget
Though our kisses, looking back, seem too few

Remember how bad I wanted a rocket
So I’d be first to the moon, but you
Told me to remember the reason we met
Was because of a penny and to never forget
That in space the pennies are few

I found a penny in my pocket
And I immediately thought of you
You needed a penny the first time we met
It was the color of your hair, and I’ll never forget
Though my days left be many or few

And I’ll always be in love, with you


Kevin M. Sorbello

Answer 3

I wish how i wish that i had a little house with a mat for the cat and a holey for the mouse a clock going tock in the corner of the room a kettle and a cupboard and a big birch broom to school in the morning my children off would run I`d give them a kiss and a penny and a bun but directly they`d gone from this little house of mine I`d clap my hands and snatch a cloth and shine shine shine I`d shine all the windows all the slates all the floors alll the grates all the plates all the handles on the doors every fork every spoon every lid and every tin till everything was shining like a bright new pin. from schooldays in the sixties

Answer 4

Poetry is an excellent way to show your innermost feelings, and also release tension and anger without resorting to violence.

It is also a great format for humour.

When I feel down and depressed, I sit for hours writing poems just to take my mind off things.
Have done this from childhood, 45 years ago.

Was going to give you examples, but just been called out, sorry, if your question still here when I get back, will edit my answer.

Answer 5

Anything by Robert Frost. One of my only regrets in life is that I never got to meet him: Here's my favorite: Mending Wall Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it, And spills the upper boulders in the sun, And makes gaps even two can pass abreast. The work of hunters is another thing: I have come after them and made repair Where they have left not one stone on a stone, But they would have the rabbit out of hiding, To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean, No one has seen them made or heard them made, But at spring mending-time we find them there. I let my neighbor know beyond the hill; And on a day we meet to walk the line And set the wall between us once again. We keep the wall between us as we go. To each the boulders that have fallen to each. And some are loaves and some so nearly balls We have to use a spell to make them balance: 'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!' We wear our fingers rough with handling them. Oh, just another kind of out-door game, One on a side. It comes to little more: There where it is we do not need the wall: He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'. Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder If I could put a notion in his head: 'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it Where there are cows? But here there are no cows. Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him, But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather He said it for himself. I see him there Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed. He moves in darkness as it seems to me~ Not of woods only and the shade of trees. He will not go behind his father's saying, And he likes having thought of it so well He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."

Answer 6

Here is a couple my wife wrote a few years ago....:

Xanadu

Take my hand and lead me
To a land full of love and joy
Where happiness is plenty
And peace can be enjoyed
Where colour doesn`t matter
And minds are never ill
Where people do not steal
And power they don`t need
Take my hand and lead me
To a land where i can breathe.

Who When Where

Are you part of the moon and stars
Or of planets high above
Are you dancing around the galaxy
In a universe of love
Is it you when the wind does whistle
Or when the raindrops fall
Are you drifting in the darkness
Will i hear you when you call

Answer 7

The Yongy Bongy Bo by Edward Leer. Still don't understand how he is so anonymous considering he popularised the Limerick, and everyone knows at least some of his poetry. Yet his life and work are largely unheard and untaught. His life mirrored his poetry which makes it more poignant.

Answer 8

Dances ‘round the flame (sort of a songy thing)

She holds a candle
And lights it at both ends
It burns right through the night
And they wake up as friends

Nothing lost and nothing left
And nothing to regret
Leaving all behind
They only take the best

Whatever holds the night
And whatever it is that makes it right
To get her through another day
No-one to point the finger
No-one to hide the blame
She feels no shame
She dances ‘round the flame

Answer 9

SPRING

Fresh air in my head
As the sand wakes from my eyes;
The sun sings with the birds
The old song of paradise.

As the lotus blooms,
I lie down in this grass
Looking at the drifting clouds
And the sky of purest blue.

Venus, the star lingers
Amidst the brightness of day;
Together in that field
Until the darkness of night.

These eyes gaze at her
And she shines most of all;
These hands dream again
Of that moment's light.

Life swims with the flowers
And I point to it the sky;
To Venus and the clouds
For they'll be there forever.

This, a beginning
A life that is with the wind
How sweet is the taste
Of the lotus scents.

-MoT-

Answer 10

Ouija's Bored just posted a very nice Gordon Lightfoot song from the 60-70s timeframe. I always liked that song.
Margot