I have many favorites, but here are two that came to mind right away.
"Twice"
I took my heart in my hand (O my love, O my love), I said: Let me fall or stand, Let me live or die, But this once hear me speak- (O my love, O my love)- Yet a woman's words are weak; You should speak, not I.
You took my heart in your hand With a friendly smile, With a critical eye you scanned, Then set it down, And said: It is still unripe, Better wait a while; Wait while the skylarks pipe, Till the corn grows brown
As you set it down it broke- Broke, but I did not wince; I smiled at the speech you spoke, At your judgment that I heard: But I have not often smiled Since then, nor questioned since, Nor cared for corn-flowers wild, Nor sung with the singing bird.
I take my heart in my hand, O my God, O my God, My broken heart in my hand: Thou hast seen, judge Thou My hope was written on sand, O my God, O my God: Now let Thy judgment stand- Yea, judge me now
This contemned of a man, This marred one heedless day, This heart take Thou to scan Both within and without: Refine with fire its gold, Purge Thou its dross away- Yea, hold it in Thy hold, Whence none can pluck it out.
I take my heart in my hand- I shall not die, but live- Before Thy face I stand; I, for Thou callest such: All that I have I bring, All that I am I give, Smile Thou and I shall sing, But shall not question much. - Christin Rosetti
And one of my favorites that will always make me smile from good old Shakespeare:
"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun"
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red: If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak,--yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go, My mistress when she walks, treads on the ground; And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.
I just happened to write a little poem myself today. It was written for my friend Walt who had a spider encounter at my house yesterday. It goes like this:
Along came a spide-im And sat down beside him. Thought he saw where it went But alas it was lint.
Now you know why a lot of poetry escapes me. I even have to make up words because I know poems MUST rhyme.
I've always liked a little Kubla Kahn by Coleridge:
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree : Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round : And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
and so on: http://etext.virginia.edu/stc/Coleridge/poems/Kubla_Khan.html
The only poetry book I ever read and liked was a small collection by Edgar Guest. Maybe I'm missing something. Of course, I like yours too, what little I've read.
Is the cow poetry and hint as to where you're moving, to the hills. Because, you know, we have hills here in VT!!
I sat down this evening to read some poetry in keeping with poetry month. This I like:
spring is like a perhaps hand
Spring is like a perhaps hand (which comes carefully out of Nowhere)arranging a window,into which people look(while people stare arranging and changing placing carefully there a strange thing and a known thing here)and
changing everything carefully
spring is like a perhaps Hand in a window (carefully to and from moving New and Old things,while people stare carefully moving a perhaps fraction of flower here placing an inch of air there)and
8 of you said:
I have many favorites, but here are two that came to mind right away.
"Twice"
I took my heart in my hand
(O my love, O my love),
I said: Let me fall or stand,
Let me live or die,
But this once hear me speak-
(O my love, O my love)-
Yet a woman's words are weak;
You should speak, not I.
You took my heart in your hand
With a friendly smile,
With a critical eye you scanned,
Then set it down,
And said: It is still unripe,
Better wait a while;
Wait while the skylarks pipe,
Till the corn grows brown
As you set it down it broke-
Broke, but I did not wince;
I smiled at the speech you spoke,
At your judgment that I heard:
But I have not often smiled
Since then, nor questioned since,
Nor cared for corn-flowers wild,
Nor sung with the singing bird.
I take my heart in my hand,
O my God, O my God,
My broken heart in my hand:
Thou hast seen, judge Thou
My hope was written on sand,
O my God, O my God:
Now let Thy judgment stand-
Yea, judge me now
This contemned of a man,
This marred one heedless day,
This heart take Thou to scan
Both within and without:
Refine with fire its gold,
Purge Thou its dross away-
Yea, hold it in Thy hold,
Whence none can pluck it out.
I take my heart in my hand-
I shall not die, but live-
Before Thy face I stand;
I, for Thou callest such:
All that I have I bring,
All that I am I give,
Smile Thou and I shall sing,
But shall not question much.
- Christin Rosetti
And one of my favorites that will always make me smile from good old Shakespeare:
"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun"
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak,--yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go,
My mistress when she walks, treads on the ground;
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
thanks, meg! i like that last one too, and the first one is new to me.
I love the cow poem. What a great way to start my morning!
I just happened to write a little poem myself today. It was written for my friend Walt who had a spider encounter at my house yesterday. It goes like this:
Along came a spide-im
And sat down beside him.
Thought he saw where it went
But alas it was lint.
Now you know why a lot of poetry escapes me. I even have to make up words because I know poems MUST rhyme.
megara thanks for sharing those poems! i used to teach the shakespeare when i taught humanities. i'd never seen the other one, but love it.
and now i need to read more poetry. ready....go!
I've always liked a little Kubla Kahn by Coleridge:
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
and so on:
http://etext.virginia.edu/stc/Coleridge/poems/Kubla_Khan.html
The only poetry book I ever read and liked was a small collection by Edgar Guest. Maybe I'm missing something. Of course, I like yours too, what little I've read.
Is the cow poetry and hint as to where you're moving, to the hills. Because, you know, we have hills here in VT!!
I sat down this evening to read some poetry in keeping with poetry month. This I like:
spring is like a perhaps hand
Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and
changing everything carefully
spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and from moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and
without breaking anything.
e.e.cummings
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