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Favorite Poetry
Posted on 5/11/22 at 7:48 am
Posted on 5/11/22 at 7:48 am
Do any of you read poetry?
If so, who are your favorites?
Does anyone like Louis V. LeDoux or Giacomo Leopardi?
I read poetry sparingly, but have been reading those two quite a bit. Feel like I'm in my middle-aged poetic Smiths phase.
If so, who are your favorites?
Does anyone like Louis V. LeDoux or Giacomo Leopardi?
I read poetry sparingly, but have been reading those two quite a bit. Feel like I'm in my middle-aged poetic Smiths phase.
Posted on 5/12/22 at 6:56 pm to sertorius
I don't have a favorite writer but have many favorite poems. William Blake, John Donne, Shakespeare, among many others.
Invictus By William Ernest Henley comes to mind as one of my favorites.
I also like Poe as lot. Especially his darker stuff.
My favorites of Shakespeare are his sonnets. Of course I am a sucker for dramatic Shakespearen speeches.. "To be or not to be.."
And not to mention his insults. "I bite my thumb at thee!
Invictus By William Ernest Henley comes to mind as one of my favorites.
I also like Poe as lot. Especially his darker stuff.
My favorites of Shakespeare are his sonnets. Of course I am a sucker for dramatic Shakespearen speeches.. "To be or not to be.."
And not to mention his insults. "I bite my thumb at thee!
Posted on 5/13/22 at 6:21 pm to sertorius
Not as much as I’d like. I’ve recently enjoyed Actual Air by David Berman though.
Posted on 5/13/22 at 8:50 pm to sertorius
I used to read a lot of German poetry. I really liked Hölderlin, Goethe, and Gryphius. There are certainly English translations for Goethe, and I’m sure for the other two as well.
For English, my favorite poet is John Donne, particularly the holy sonnets.
For English, my favorite poet is John Donne, particularly the holy sonnets.
Posted on 12/23/22 at 12:19 pm to sertorius
I heard Billy Collins on a radio show more than a decade ago and really liked his sense of humor that he puts into the poems he writes.
The Revenant by Billy Collins
I am the dog you put to sleep,
as you like to call the needle of oblivion,
come back to tell you this simple thing:
I never liked you – not one bit.
When I licked your face,
I thought of biting off your nose.
When I watched you toweling yourself dry,
I wanted to leap and unman you with a snap.
I resented the way you moved,
your lack of animal grace,
the way you would sit in a chair and eat,
a napkin on your lap, knife in your hand.
I would have run away,
but I was too weak, a trick you taught me
while I was learning to sit and heel,
and – greatest of insults – shake hands without a hand.
I admit the sight of the leash
would excite me
but only because it meant I was about
to smell things you had never touched.
You do not want to believe this,
but I have no reason to lie.
I hated the car, the rubber toys,
disliked your friends and, worse, your relatives.
The jingling of my tags drove me mad.
You always scratched me in the wrong place.
All I ever wanted from you
was food and fresh water in my metal bowls.
While you slept, I watched you breathe
as the moon rose in the sky.
It took all my strength
not to raise my head and howl.
Now I am free of the collar,
the yellow raincoat, monogrammed sweater,
the absurdity of your lawn,
and that is all you need to know about this place
except what you already supposed
and are glad it did not happen sooner –
that everyone here can read and write,
the dogs in poetry, the cats and the others in prose.
The Revenant by Billy Collins
I am the dog you put to sleep,
as you like to call the needle of oblivion,
come back to tell you this simple thing:
I never liked you – not one bit.
When I licked your face,
I thought of biting off your nose.
When I watched you toweling yourself dry,
I wanted to leap and unman you with a snap.
I resented the way you moved,
your lack of animal grace,
the way you would sit in a chair and eat,
a napkin on your lap, knife in your hand.
I would have run away,
but I was too weak, a trick you taught me
while I was learning to sit and heel,
and – greatest of insults – shake hands without a hand.
I admit the sight of the leash
would excite me
but only because it meant I was about
to smell things you had never touched.
You do not want to believe this,
but I have no reason to lie.
I hated the car, the rubber toys,
disliked your friends and, worse, your relatives.
The jingling of my tags drove me mad.
You always scratched me in the wrong place.
All I ever wanted from you
was food and fresh water in my metal bowls.
While you slept, I watched you breathe
as the moon rose in the sky.
It took all my strength
not to raise my head and howl.
Now I am free of the collar,
the yellow raincoat, monogrammed sweater,
the absurdity of your lawn,
and that is all you need to know about this place
except what you already supposed
and are glad it did not happen sooner –
that everyone here can read and write,
the dogs in poetry, the cats and the others in prose.
Posted on 3/4/23 at 1:22 pm to sertorius
Not a huge poetry fan but love some Wendell Berry as a fellow Kentuckian.
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
Posted on 3/18/23 at 10:32 am to sertorius
Here is a list of poets, some old, some new, that you may find helpful. You can find most of these on Poets.org or the Poetry Foundation site. In no particular order...
Adam Zagajewski
Elizabeth Bishop
Mark Doty
Yusef Komunyakaa
Robert Lowell
T. S. Eliot
W. H. Auden
Alexander Pope
Sylvia Plath
Donald Hall
Seamus Heaney
Zbigniew Herbert
Anne Sexton
Robert Hass
David Bottoms
Robert Creeley
Pablo Neruda
Langston Hughes
Charles Simic
Jack Gilbert
Meghan O'Rourke
W. B. Yeats
Philip Larkin
Mary Oliver
Robert Frost
John Ashbery
Jane Kenyon
Wallace Steven's
Also, you could check out some of the poets from the Yale Series of Younger Poets.
Adam Zagajewski
Elizabeth Bishop
Mark Doty
Yusef Komunyakaa
Robert Lowell
T. S. Eliot
W. H. Auden
Alexander Pope
Sylvia Plath
Donald Hall
Seamus Heaney
Zbigniew Herbert
Anne Sexton
Robert Hass
David Bottoms
Robert Creeley
Pablo Neruda
Langston Hughes
Charles Simic
Jack Gilbert
Meghan O'Rourke
W. B. Yeats
Philip Larkin
Mary Oliver
Robert Frost
John Ashbery
Jane Kenyon
Wallace Steven's
Also, you could check out some of the poets from the Yale Series of Younger Poets.
Posted on 3/19/23 at 8:54 pm to sertorius
I love Kipling.
The Power of the Dog is great. So is Gunga Din
Ozymandias by Shelley is lovely as well.
I completely forgot there was a book board
The Power of the Dog is great. So is Gunga Din
Ozymandias by Shelley is lovely as well.
I completely forgot there was a book board
Posted on 3/20/23 at 8:51 am to sertorius
My list - contemporary in the fact that almost all published 1950+ with some of these authors still going strong...
Billy Collins
Ted Kooser
Jim Harrison
Philip Larkin
Frank O'Hara
John Ashbery
Kenneth Koch
Ted Berrigan
Ron Padgett
WS Merwin
Donald Hall
Robert Bly
Tony Hoagland
Paul Muldoon
Robert Pinsky
Seamus Heaney
Charles Simic
Mark Strand
Donald Revell
George Bilgere
James Tate
Bill Knott
Joyce Sutphen
Linda Pastan
AR Ammons
Howard Nemerov
John Hollander
My go to for getting anyone into poetry are the top three on this list - Collins, Kooser, and Harrison. Watch something by them on YouTube to get a feel for cadence and then dive in.
Billy Collins
Ted Kooser
Jim Harrison
Philip Larkin
Frank O'Hara
John Ashbery
Kenneth Koch
Ted Berrigan
Ron Padgett
WS Merwin
Donald Hall
Robert Bly
Tony Hoagland
Paul Muldoon
Robert Pinsky
Seamus Heaney
Charles Simic
Mark Strand
Donald Revell
George Bilgere
James Tate
Bill Knott
Joyce Sutphen
Linda Pastan
AR Ammons
Howard Nemerov
John Hollander
My go to for getting anyone into poetry are the top three on this list - Collins, Kooser, and Harrison. Watch something by them on YouTube to get a feel for cadence and then dive in.
Posted on 4/11/23 at 5:09 pm to DLSWVA
Yeats had an interesting technique that he got into through his wife, Georgie Hyde-Lees, called automatic writing.
Many other writers have done variations of similar techniques. Something similar was definitely part of the CIA's Stargate Project.
Does the CIA still do it? Who's to say? Literally, who?
If you ask a liar if they're lying, what answer would suffice?
Liar Paradox
If someone admits they are a liar,
Does it elevate the truth of their statements higher?
Many other writers have done variations of similar techniques. Something similar was definitely part of the CIA's Stargate Project.
Does the CIA still do it? Who's to say? Literally, who?
If you ask a liar if they're lying, what answer would suffice?
Liar Paradox
If someone admits they are a liar,
Does it elevate the truth of their statements higher?
Posted on 4/25/23 at 11:56 pm to AllbyMyRelf
quote:I remember one from Heinrich Heine, Enfant perdu.
I used to read a lot of German poetry.
quote:
But war and justice have far different laws,
And worthless acts are often done right well; The rascals' shots were better than their cause,
And I was hit--and hit again, and fell!
quote:A big favorite as well, also George Herbert-well the Metaphysicals generally.
For English, my favorite poet is John Donne, particularly the holy sonnets.
Given the differences between Donne’s love poetry and his holy poetry he seems one of the most thoroughly converted men ever, not dissimilar to St. Augustine or C.S. Lewis.
A Hymn to God the Father
BY JOHN DONNE
quote:
Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run,
And do run still, though still I do deplore?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year or two, but wallow'd in, a score?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.
I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;
But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;
And, having done that, thou hast done;
I fear no more.
Posted on 4/26/23 at 12:18 am to fr33manator
quote:
I love Kipling. The Power of the Dog is great. So is Gunga Din
Given the recent events in The Soudan let’s not forget this Kipling gem.
quote:
We've fought with many men acrost the seas,
An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not:
The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese;
But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot.
We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im:
'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses, 'E cut our sentries up at Sua~kim~,
An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces.
So 'ere's ~to~ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed
We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined.
We took our chanst among the Khyber 'ills, The Boers knocked us silly at a mile,
The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills,
An' a Zulu ~impi~ dished us up in style:
But all we ever got from such as they
Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say, But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller.
Then 'ere's ~to~ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis and the kid;
Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did.
We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't 'ardly fair;
But for all the odds agin' you,
Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square.
'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own,
'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards,
So we must certify the skill 'e's shown
In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords: When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush
With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear,
An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush
Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year.
So 'ere's ~to~ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends which are no more,
If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would 'elp you to deplore;
But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call the bargain fair,
For if you 'ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square!
'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive, An', before we know,
'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead;
'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive,
An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead.
'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb!
'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree,
'E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn For a Regiment o' British Infantree!
So 'ere's ~to~ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
An' 'ere's ~to~ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air —
You big black boundin' beggar — for you broke a British square!
Posted on 4/26/23 at 1:18 pm to sertorius
I like limericks.
But my favorite poetry are the works of the World War One combat veterans who write about the tragedy of the Western Front in that war.
But my favorite poetry are the works of the World War One combat veterans who write about the tragedy of the Western Front in that war.
This post was edited on 4/26/23 at 1:21 pm
Posted on 4/26/23 at 8:34 pm to sertorius
I learned a Bob Dylan song on guitar in the last couple days and he describes his past relationships “like Verlaine and Rimbaud.”
I had no idea what that meant and did some digging, both were French poets that fell in love but were always stabbing and shooting each other. I’m looking forward to reading their work!
I had no idea what that meant and did some digging, both were French poets that fell in love but were always stabbing and shooting each other. I’m looking forward to reading their work!
Posted on 4/30/23 at 5:08 pm to sertorius
quote:
Favorite Poetry
Anything by Jack Handey
To me, it's a good idea to always carry two sacks
of something when you walk around.
That way,
if anybody says, "Hey, can you give me a hand?"
you can say,
"Sorry, got these sacks."
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