Favorite Poems

Discussion in 'Reading & Writing' started by Sheldon Scott, Aug 5, 2015.

  1. Cheryl Torrie

    Cheryl Torrie Member
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    We are all a little weird and life's a little weird,
    and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours,
    we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and
    Call it LOVE.
    Dr. Seuss
     
    #26
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  2. Bill Boggs

    Bill Boggs Very Well-Known Member
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    I may have said so before but I like this one:

    The Purpose of Poetry
    By Jared Carter

    This old man grazed thirty head of cattle
    in a valley just north of the covered bridge
    on the Mississinewa, where the reservoir
    stands today. Had a black border collie
    and a half-breed sheep dog with one eye.
    The dogs took the cows to pasture each morning
    and brought them home again at night
    and herded them into the barn. The old man
    would slip a wooden bar across both doors.
    One dog slept on the front porch, one on the back.

    He was waiting there one evening
    listening to the animals coming home
    when a man from the courthouse stopped
    to tell him how the new reservoir
    was going to flood all his property.
    They both knew he was too far up in years
    to farm anywhere else. He had a daughter
    who lived in Florida, in a trailer park.
    He should sell now and go stay with her.
    The man helped bar the doors before he left.

    He had only known dirt under his fingernails
    and trips to town on Saturday mornings
    since he was a boy. Always he had been around
    cattle, and trees, and land near the river.
    Evenings by the barn he could hear the dogs
    talking to each other as they brought in
    the herd; and the cows answering them.
    It was the clearest thing he knew. That night
    He shots both dogs and then himself.
    The purpose of poetry is to tell us about life.
     
    #27
    Last edited: Dec 9, 2015
  3. Brittany Houser

    Brittany Houser Well-Known Member
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    My favorite by J.R.R.Tolkien, I memorized it when I was very young:

    All that is gold does not glitter.
    Not all who wander are lost.
    The old that is strong does not wither.
    Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

    From the ashes a fire shall be woken.
    A light from the shadows shall spring.
    Renewed shall be blade that was broken.
    The crownless again shall be king.
     
    #28
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  4. Lara Moss

    Lara Moss Very Well-Known Member
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    images-2.jpeg
    The Grinch Who Stole Christmas (in part)
    - Dr. Seuss 1957

    Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot
    But the Grinch who lived just North of Whoville did not!...

    ...It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight.
    It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right.

    But I think that the most likely reason of all
    May have been that his heart was two sizes too small…

    ...Then he growled, with his Grinch fingers nervously drumming,
    "I must find some way to keep Christmas from coming!

    And then they'll do something I hate most of all!
    Every Who down in Whoville, the tall and the small,

    They'll stand close together, with Christmas bells ringing.
    They'll stand hand-in-hand, and those Whos will start singing!"...

    Then he got an idea! An awful idea!
    The Grinch got a wonderful, awful idea!…

    ...You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch. You really are a heel.
    You're as cuddly as a cactus. You're as charming as an eel.
    Mr. Grinch! You're a bad banana with a greasy black peel!

    You're a monster, Mr. Grinch. Your heart's an empty hole.
    Your brain is full of spiders. You've got garlic in your soul.
    Mr. Grinch! I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole!...

    ...Where the little Who stockings hung all in a row.
    "These stockings," he grinched, "are the first things to go!"

    Then he slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant,
    Around the whole room, and he took every present!...

    ...You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch. You have termites in your smile.
    You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile.

    You're a rotter, Mr. Grinch. You're the king of sinful sots.
    Your heart's a dead tomato splotched with moldy purple spots.
    Mr. Grinch! You're a three decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce!…

    ...Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee.
    "Now," grinned the Grinch, "I will stuff up the tree!"

    As the Grinch took the tree, as he started to shove,
    He heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.

    He turned around fast, and he saw a small Who!
    Little Cindy-Lou Who, who was no more than two.

    She stared at the Grinch and said, "Santy Claus, why,
    Why are you taking our Christmas tree? Why?"

    But, you know, that old Grinch was so smart and so slick,
    He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick!

    "Why, my sweet little tot," the fake Santy Claus lied,
    "There's a light on this tree that won't light on one side.

    So I'm taking it home to my workshop, my dear.
    I'll fix it up there, then I'll bring it back here."

    And his fib fooled the child. Then he patted her head,
    And he got her a drink, and he sent her to bed.

    And when Cindy-Lou Who was in bed with her cup,
    He crupt to the chimney and stuffed the tree up!...

    ...You're a foul one, Mr. Grinch. You're a nasty-wasty skunk.
    Your heart is full of unwashed socks. Your soul is full of gunk.
    Mr. Grinch! The three words that best describe you are as follows, and I quote, "Stink, stank, stunk"!...

    They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do!
    Their mouths will hang open a minute or two
    Then the Whos down in Whoville will all cry boo-boo!…

    ...But this sound wasn't sad!
    Why, this sound sounded glad!

    Every Who down in Whoville, the tall and the small,
    Was singing without any presents at all!

    He hadn't stopped Christmas from coming! It came!
    Somehow or other, it came just the same!

    And the Grinch, with his grinch feet ice-cold in the snow,
    Stood puzzling and puzzling. "How could it be so?

    It came without ribbons! It came without tags!
    It came without packages, boxes, or bags!"

    He puzzled and puzzed till his puzzler was sore.
    Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before.

    Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store.
    Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more!

    And what happened then? Well, in Whoville they say
    That the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day!…

    ...With a smile to his soul, he descended Mount Crumpet
    Cheerily blowing "Who! Who!" on his trumpet.

    He road into Whoville. He brought back their toys.
    He brought back their floof to the Who girls and boys….

    ...Welcome Christmas while we stand
    Heart to heart and hand in hand.
     
    #29
    Last edited: Dec 9, 2015
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  5. Babs Hunt

    Babs Hunt Veteran Member
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    #30
  6. Babs Hunt

    Babs Hunt Veteran Member
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    I know why the caged bird sings - Poem by Maya Angelou

    A free bird leaps on the back
    Of the wind and floats downstream
    Till the current ends and dips his wing
    In the orange suns rays
    And dares to claim the sky.

    But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
    Can seldom see through his bars of rage
    His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
    So he opens his throat to sing.

    The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
    Of things unknown but longed for still
    And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
    The caged bird sings of freedom.

    The free bird thinks of another breeze
    And the trade winds soft through
    The sighing trees
    And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
    Lawn and he names the sky his own.

    But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
    His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
    His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
    So he opens his throat to sing.

    The caged bird sings with
    A fearful trill of things unknown
    But longed for still and his
    Tune is heard on the distant hill
    For the caged bird sings of freedom.

    Maya Angelou
     
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  7. Babs Hunt

    Babs Hunt Veteran Member
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    On Pain

    Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses
    your understanding.

    Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its
    heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

    And could you keep your heart in wonder at the
    daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem
    less wondrous than your joy;

    And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
    even as you have always accepted the seasons that
    pass over your fields.

    And you would watch with serenity through the
    winters of your grief.

    Much of your pain is self-chosen.

    It is the bitter potion by which the physician within
    you heals your sick self.

    Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy
    in silence and tranquillity:

    For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by
    the tender hand of the Unseen,

    And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has
    been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has
    moistened with His own sacred tears.

    Khalil Gibran
     
    #32
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