Post your favorite poems here [Merged]

[Zen]

I'm Nobody
Emily Dickinson

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody too?
Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

[Ira]

Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down, and broke his crown
And Jill came tumbling after.

[???§ÎNNëÐ???]

'di ko alam kung saang forum ko ilalagay 'to pero merong thread na tungkol sa books dito eh so there.

Bodacious.
Ako'y tutula mahabang-mahaba, ako'y ooffline na tapos na po.

[will o' the wisp]

The Raven's too long to post...so ito nalang...something from Pablo Neruda...I leave Poem 20 [Tonight I can write...] for someone else to post :)


- Sonnet XVII -

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain fragance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

[from One Hundred Love Sonnets by Pablo Neruda]

Hmmm…isa pa hehe

- Sonnet CXVI –

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O, no, it is an ever-fixèd mark
That looks on tempests & is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips & cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours & weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error & upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

-- Billy Shakespeare

[bLuHeAvN]

actually hindi sya masyado poem
wala pang title eh kung gusto nyo taytelan niyo:

At thought the love u gave was real
I thought u felt the way i feel
Now i see that i was wrong
Udidnt love me all along....

yun lang peeps!

[glass house]

Love's Philisophy

The fountains mingle with the rivers
and the rivers with the oceans
the winds of heaven mix forever with a sweet emotion
nothing in the world is single
all things by a law divine
in one another's being mingle
why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven
and the waves clasp one another
no sister flower would be forgiven if it disdained its brother
and the sunlight clasps the earth
and the moonbeams kiss the sea
what are all these kissings worth
if thou kiss not me?
---Percy Bysshe Shelly

[Braveheart]

hey sinned...does this award-winning poem by my favorite v-staffer ring a bell? nyehehehe...har har har har

nyctophobe

this darkness suffocates brenda
of #2 chalcott st. in pasig
whenever she hears john whispering
mechanically on her bed

this darkness damns this brenda
of #2 chalcott st. in pasig
whenever she sees john shouting
artificially on her head

this darkness clutches brenda
of #2 chalcott st. in pasig
whenever john talks about
fading lights, melting candles
twilights, and sunsets
or whenever he curses flashing lights,
bioluminescence, flames, and sunrises.

this darkness scares brenda whenever
#2 chalcott st fades
with the afternoon sun.

[Vanguard]

IRA: Da best ang iyo... hehehehe...

[Kamatayan]

The first thing we do, let's kill all the chatters...
--- W. Shakespeare

[slurbrun]

Will o d wisp
**** talaga si Neruda! Naiyak ako sa Sonnet XVII...

Glasshouse...ano ba naman yan, mag-pa-depress ba tayo ng tao? :)

[Ira]

vanguard: Thanks. I thought so too, LOL ;)

[krayola]

Read with thine heart...

Have you ever?

Have you ever noticed that the worst way to miss someone
is when they are right beside you and yet you can never have them.....
when the moment you can't feel them under your fingertips you miss them?

Have you ever wondered which hurts the most;
saying something and wishing you had not,
or saying nothing and wishing you had?

I guess the most important things are the hardest things to say.
They are the things you get ashamed of because words diminish them,
words shrink things that seemed timeless when they were in your head.....
to no more than living size when they are brought out....

Don't be afraid to tell someone you love them.
If you do, they might break your heart...
but if you don't, you might break theirs.

Have you ever decided not to become a couple
because you were so afraid of losing
what you already had with that person?

Your heart decides who it likes
and who it doesn't.
You can't tell your heart what to do.
It does it on its own....
when you least suspect it,
or even when you don't want it to.

Have you ever wanted to love someone
with everything you had,
but that other person
was too afraid to let you?

Too many of us stay walled
because we are too afraid to care too much....
for fear that the other person does not care as much,
or at all.

Have you ever loved someone
and they had absolutely no idea whatsoever?
Or fell for your best-friend in the entire world,
and then sat around and watched her
fall for someone else?


Have you ever denied your feelings for someone
because your fear of rejection was too hard to handle?

We tell lies when we are afraid....
afraid of what we don't know,
afraid of what others will think,
afraid of what will be found out
about us.
But everytime we tell a lie....
the thing we fear grows stronger.

Life is all about risks
and it requires you to jump.
Don't be a person
who has to look back
and wonder what they would have,
or could have had.
No one waits forever....

[krayola]

PePs: 'Yung sa poem ba na pinost ko 'yon? If ever, alin ba don? *wonder*

[This message has been edited by krayola (edited 11-25-1999).]

[Cy]

If You're Ever Going To Love Me

if you're ever going to love me--love me now,
while i can know all the sweet and tender feelings
which from real affection flow.
love me now, while I am living,
do not wait till I am gone
and then chisel in in marble warm love words on ice cold stone.
if you've dear, sweet thoughts about me
why not whisper them to me?
don't you know, it would make me happy
and as glad as glad could be/
if you wait till i am gone, ne'er to waken here again,
there'll be walls of earth between us and i couldn't hear you then.
if you knew somone was thirsting for a drop of water sweet.
would you be so slow to bring it?
would you step with laggard feet?
there are tender hearts all around us
who are thirsting fro our love,
why withhold from them what nature makes them crave all else above?
I won't need your kind caresses
when the grass grows over my face.
I won't crave for your love or kisses in my last low resting place.
So, then, if you love my any, if it's but a little bit,
let me know it now whil I am living,
I can own and treasure it.

-Anonymous

[bLaCk]

uh.. this is mah fave original composition back in hs... it ain't Shakespeare... just me.. pro i hop u guys lyk it...

I already had you then.. but i let you slip away
I guess I shouldve known
we weren't meant to be this way
I know i've caused all that pain and hurt in your heart
But if only i can do it..I'll go back to the start

I know i've been such a fool to ruin what we've got
I had to take lots of risks I had to take a shot
And now i know i have lost..
The biggest part of me
Holdin' back the tears
I guess i've st you free

I hope you're doin' fine now
But i'm sure you don't have a clue
what's goin' on in my life about my feelings for you
I guess i'm comin in too late...
But hey, it's worth a try..
I just wanna say I LOVE YOU..
before i say goodbye...

CHEESY, huh?

[milady]

Maybe

maybe
i am
too blind to see
that i am
special for you
but i guess
you are
more blind to see
that you mean
a lot to me
that i really care
maybe
i am
too deaf to hear
the hidden message
behind those words
but i guess
you are
more deaf to hear
the beating of my heart
only for you
maybe
i am
too scared to know
the real feelings
you have
for me
but i guess
you are
more scared to know
the real feelings
i have
for you
maybe we are
too blind to see
too deaf to hear
too scared to know
what lies within
our hearts
but i guess
we are just
too dumb
to realize the truth
too busy pretending
too confused
with the way things are
or maybe
we are
too much in love
just maybe.

-PALLORINA

[nick]

Reflections on Ice-Breaking

Candy But liquor
Is dandy Is quicker.

[blue babe]

my favorite poem is really really long. its by oscar wilde. so i'll just my favorite stanza. really love this one...

THE BALLAD OF THE READING GAOL

yet each man kills the thing he loves
let this to each be heard
some do it with a bitter look
some with a flattering word
the coward does it with a kiss
the brave man with a sword

[uptowngirl]

Once in a Lifetime

It only happens once, not twice
the moment vanishes, like mice
scurrying past,
life much too fast
and only for the very brave,
the strong, the true
and when the moment comes for you
Don't let it pass you by
for in a twinkle of an eye
the love is gone,
the moment dead
an empty ringing in your head.
you will know
when fate has whispered in your ear
oh, never fear beloved friend
for in the end,
its worth the price,
the fee
the cost...
when all is lost
and love is won
when true love comes
there is but one.

-Danielle Steel :D



[This message has been edited by uptowngirl (edited 04-03-2000).]

[Angeli]

will o' the wisp ito na po request nyo...

~TONIGHT I CAN WRITE~

Tonight I can write the saddest lines
Write for example the night is starry
And the stars are blue and shiver in the distance
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight i can write the saddest lines
I loved her and sometimes she loved me too
Through nights like this one i held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes i loved her too
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight i can write the saddest lines
To think that i do not have her, to feel that i have lost her
to hear the immense night, still more immense without her
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to a pasture.
What does it matter that my love cannot keep her
The night is starry and she is not with me
That is all. In the distance someone is singing in the distance
My soul is not satisfied that it has to lose her.
My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer
My heart looks for her and she is not with me
The same night whitening the same trees
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how i loved her
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe i loved her
Love is short. Forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one, I held her in my arms
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last plan that she makes me suffer
And this be the last verses that i write for her.

~i'm not too sure about the separation of the lines. but i hope you enjoy this poem as i have. napaiyak ako nito!

[This message has been edited by Angeli (edited 04-02-2000).]

[Keri]

grabe ang senti ng mga poems!!!

[wAgKaNgMaKuLiT]

wow! ang ganda ng "maybe" and "have you ever"

*clap clap clap*

[sampaguita]

"Nothing Gold Can Stay" by Robert Frost
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

[@lil' bo-peep@]

hehehe :D this one is an old poem which I actually learned when I was in Grade 4..I just love to recite this(in a singsong manner) especially when I am in a happy mood...

here it goes---->;

All Things Bright and Beautiful(is this the right title?)

All things bright and beautiful
All creatures great and small
All things wise and wonderful
The Lord God made them all

Each little flower that opens
Each little bird that sings
He made their glowing colors
He made their tiny wings

The purple headed mountains
The river running by
The sunset in the morning
That brightens up the sky

The cold wind in the winter
The pleasant summer sun
.....
yikes! I forgot! :o

[bLuHeAvN]

ito la ***...

The Freshman Child

The freshman child
So sweet and coy
Silently stares
At the sophomore boy

The sophomore boy
His head in a whirl
All because
Of the junior girl

The junior girl
In a steel black sedan
Quietly pursues
The senior man

The senior man
So darling and wild
So secretly inlove
With the freshman child

(dunno who wrote it) :D

[acridmouth]

My favorite poem is "Don't Quit." Most of you guys know this, and it's kinda long so I won't just post the whole poem.

...But if things go wrong as they sometimes will
Rest if you must but don't you quit."

In times of trouble, I murmur this line to myself to keep me going.

[blue babe]

sampaguita:
hmmm... you like robert frost too?

[manoksapugad]

'to pan isang pablo neruda. senti rin.

Love

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the
perfumes of spring.

I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten
your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of
you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
do me irreparable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every
window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because
of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting
stars, falling objects.

[yan2]

huh! enjoy talaga ako sa mga poem...
ako rin meron..

"Love is Not First Come First Serve"

"I am asking too much"

"Some"

mga pre' mga title pa lang ang mga yan..pag iisipan ko pa ang contents niyan..title lang kasi ang madaling gawin eh..

[yan2]

huh! enjoy talaga ako sa mga poem...
ako rin meron..

"Love is Not First Come First Serve"

"I am asking too much"

"Some"

mga pre' mga title pa lang ang mga yan..pag iisipan ko pa ang contents niyan..title lang kasi ang madaling gawin eh..

[layer]

The Two-Headed Calf
by Laura Gilpin

Tomorrow when the farm boys find this
freak of nature, they will wrap his body
in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

But tonight he is alive and in the north
field with his mother. It is a perfect
summer evening: the moon rising over
the orchard, the wind in the grass. And
as he stares into the sky, there are
twice as many stars as usual.

[jean!e]

Sailing to Byzantium by W.B. Yeats
Tonight I can Write by Pablo Neruda

[Eina]

When We Two Parted by Lord Byron

[acridmouth]

The eternal "Don't Quit"...
Desiderata...
(Both authors are anonymous)

Tyger, Tyger by William Blake
If Thou Must Love Me by Elizabeth Browning
Heartbeat by Danielle Steel

[Margarita]

Desiderata - Max Ehrman

[Ice Burn]

The Raven and Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe

Crossing the Bar and She Walks in Beauty like the Night by Lord Byron

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud by William Wordsworth

[Misa Hayase]

"Anyone Lived in A Pretty How Town" & "I Carry Your Heart(I Carry it in My Heart)" by e.e. c u m m i n g s.

"I Hide Myself within My Flower" by Emily Dickinson

"The Two-Headed Calf" by Laura Gilpin

"the More Loving One" by W.H. Auden

[natalie_sod]

tonight i can write by pablo neruda

[acridmouth]

I didn't know Max Ehrman is the author of Desiderata. My apologies :D

[adlaw]

birds by jose wendell capili...

[Zen]

Mine's I'm Nobody by Emily Dickinson.

You could also check out ¤¤¤ Post your favorite poems here! ¤¤¤ (http://www.pinoyexchange.com/Forum16/HTML/000017.html)

[Nights]

"Remember" and "Song" by Christina Rossetti

"Tonight I can write" by Pablo Neruda, and some other poem of him which title I forgot. :(

"Annabel Lee" by Edgar Allan Poe

Any poem by Danton Remoto :)

[*Zaphne*]

She Walks In Beauty by Lord Byron

[SinagTala]

this one's another favorite poem, by Pablo Neruda [in Veinte Poemas de Amor y una Cancion Desesperada]


So That You Will Hear Me

So that you will hear me
my words
sometimes grow thin
as the tracks of the gulls on the beaches.

Necklace, drunken bell
for your hands smooth as grapes.

And I watch my words from a long way off.
They are more yours than mine.
They climb on my old suffering like ivy.

It climbs the same way on damp walls.
You are to blame for this cruel sport.
They are fleeing from my dark lair.
You fill everything, you fill everything.

Before you they peopled the solitude that you occupy,
and they are more used to my sadness than you are.

Now I want them to say what I want to say to you
to make you hear as I want you to hear me.

The wind of anguish still hauls on them as usual.
Sometimes hurricanes of dreams still knock them over.
You listen to other voices in my painful voice.

Lament of old mouths, blood of old supplications.
Love me, companion. Don't forsake me. Follow me.
Follow me, companion, on this wave of anguish.

But my words become stained with your love.
You occupy everything, you occupy everything.

I am making them into an endless necklace
for your white hands, smooth as grapes.

[SinagTala]

http://www.pinoyexchange.com/angel.gif this one I dedicate to you my dearest bestfriend, Sam Hunny...
how i wish u can read this http://www.pinoyexchange.com/blush.gif


Sonnet XLIV

You must know that I do not love and that I love you,
because everything alive has its two sides;
a word is one wing of the silence,
fire has its cold half.

I love you in order to begin to love you,
to start infinity again
and never to stop loving you:
that's why I do not love you yet.

I love you, and I do not love you, as if I held
keys in my hand: to a future of joy --
a wretched, muddled fate --

My love has two lives, in order to love you:
that's why I love you when I do not love you,
and also why I love you when I do.


**Pablo Neruda [from Cien sonetos de amor]



[This message has been edited by SinagTala (edited 06-29-2000).]

[christine]

ANNABEL LEE

by Edgar Allan Poe
(1849)


It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;--
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
She was a child and I was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love--
I and my Annabel Lee--
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud by night
Chilling my Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me:--
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of a cloud, chilling
And killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we--
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in Heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:--

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea--
In her tomb by the side of the sea.

[TNT2bluz]

here's to Neruda and cut and paste technology:

Morning

Naked you are simple as one of your hands
Smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round.
You have moonlines, apple pathways.
Naked you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.
Naked you are blue as a night in Cuba.
You have vines and stars in your hair.
Naked you are spacious and yellow as summer in a golden church.
Naked you are tiny as one of your nails curved, subtle, rosy.
From the day is born and you withdraw to the underground world,
As if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores
Your clear light dims, gets dressed, drops its leaves,
And becomes a naked hand again

[Invictus]

INVICTUS. Tingnan nyo na lang post ni PePs.

christine, hay naku pinamemorize sa amin yang pagkahab-hab na Annabel Lee in high school!

Eto pa...

If by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
are losing theirs and blamin it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
but make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired of waiting,
Or being lied about don't deal on lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet not look to good nor talk to wise.

If you can dream-- and not make dreams your master,
If you can think-- and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster,
And treat those two impostors just the same,
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken,
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop, and pick them up with worn out tools.

If you can make one heap of all your winnings,
And risk it in one turn of pitch and toss,
And lose and start again at your beginnings,
And never breath a word about your loss,
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew,
To serve your turn long after your gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you,
Except the will which says to them, "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and still keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count on you but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute,
With sixty seconds worth of distance run,
Yours is the earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son.

Meron din pambabaeng version nito, kaya lang hindi ko kabisado. Meron sa inyong may kopya?

[moonberry]

The Arrow and the Song
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

:)

[elaney]

Zen already posted my favorite poem by Emily Dickinson. I have her complete works so i cannot choose...

I'll post this one instead from Edna St. vincent Millay

Love is not all: it is not meat or drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone,
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as i speak, for lack of love alone.
It will may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I migh be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think i would.

[elaney]

i have to post these two poems by Emily Dickinson...

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
and never stops at all.

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kep so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.


- - -

I never saw a moor,
I never saw the sea;
Yet know i how the heather looks,
and what a wave must be.

I never spoke with God,
Nor visited in heaven;
Yet certain am i of the spot
As if the chart were given.

[Bostsip]

THE EMPEROR'S NEW SONNET

By J.G. Villa

[kuluping]

another poem by NERUDA...

AND NOW YOU'RE MINE

And now you’re mine.
Rest with your dream in my dream.
Love and pain, and work, fell all asleep now.
The night turns on it’s invisible wheels.
And you are pure beside me, as a sleeping Amber.

No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams.
You will go, we will go together over the waters of time.
No one else will travel through the shadows of me.
Only you. Ever Green, Ever Sun, Ever Moon.

Your hands have already opened their delicate fists.
And let their soft drifting sides drop away.
Your eyes closed like two great wings.
And I move…

…After.
Following the folding water you carry.
That carries me away.
The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you, I am your dream.
Only that.
And that is all.

[maxinegirl]

somewhere i have never traveled
by e. e. cummings

somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands


http://www.pinoyexchange.com/sweet.gif

[DELISYUS]

hmmm...gusto ko yung isang sonnet ata ni shakespeare...

'love does not alter, when it alteration finds...'

tsak yung isang ke Millay...post ko later...type ko muna sa word... :)

[paralusi]

o me! o life! walt whitman

O ME! O life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill'd with the
foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I,
and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the
struggle ever renew'd,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see
around me, Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest
me
intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring-What good amid these, O me, O
life?
Answer.
That you are here-that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

[cultured pearls]

pipol sensha na...
tagalog to eh... hahanap na lang ako ng english poem later...

BAKA
mahal kita
ngunit
ayaw kong
sabihin
mahirap na...
baka mahal mo rin
ako.

ganda ng poem ko no???
(mag-self praise daw ba???)
fine kung ayaw ninyo...

[This message has been edited by cultured pearls (edited 08-22-2000).]

[jinks]

maisusulat ko ang pinakamalungkot na tula ngayong gabi

anyone seen the tagalog version of tonight i write the saddest lines?

[Quentin]

eto fave kows ... mga influences ko sa poetry

I Carry Your Heart
e. e. cummings

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

[bunny]

Almost all my fave poems are by Maya Angelou...but this is my pinaka-favorite from all of her poems, especially now that it perfectly describes how i feel...

Still I Rise
You may write me down in history
with your bitter, twisted lies
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause i walk like i've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room

Just like moons and like sunds
With the certainty of tides
Just like hopes springing high
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops
Weakened by my soulful cries

Does my haugtiness offend you?
Dont you take it awful hard
Cause i laugh like ive got gold mines
Diggin in my own backyard

You may shoot me with your words
You may cut me with your eyes
You may kill me with you hatefulness,
But still, like air, i'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That i dance like ive got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the hut's of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past thats rooted in pain
I rise
Im a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling i bear in the tide
Leaving behind the nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak thats wondrously clear
i rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise.
I rise.
I rise.

She has 2 other poems that i like..."Men" and "Phenomenal Woman"...kaso they're long...kakatamad na magtype, hee hee! :D

[eya]

ito naman, something light

ALL BECAUSE YOU KISSED ME GOODNIGHT
by: Sandy Rolstan

I cllimbed the door and opened the stairs,
Said my pajamas and put on my prayers,
Then turned off the bed and crawled into the light---
All because you kissed me goodnight

Next morning i woke and scrambled my shoes,
Polished my eggs and toasted the news.
I couldn't tell my left from my right--
All because you kissed me goodnight

That evening, at last, I felt normal again,
So I picked up my mother and called the phone
I spoke to the puppy and threw Dad a bone.
Even at midnight, the sun was still bright,
All because you kissed me goodnight.

---talk about HANGOVER!!! http://www.pinoyexchange.com/lol.gif

[greenlady]

When you see a rose


when you see a rose
with petals silky red
remember how my cheeks blushed
when you kissed it unaware

when you touch a rose
and feel it softness glow
remember how you held my hand
and made love overflow

when you find a rose
wet in the morning dew
remember how my eyes cried
when you found someone new

but don't pity me my love
if i suffer all the pain
for all the tears and sobs
will be loss in the rain

and tomorrow the morning sun
will warm the rose again
the buds will bloom one by one
to dream and love again

[paralusi]

galing sa isa sa mga nobela ni kurt vonnegut:

Those who write on heaven's walls
roll their s**t into tiny balls
those who read these words of wit
will eat those tiny balls of s**t

cervinians: "somebody" wrote these fine words under the bookshelf at rm 209 - kitang-kita mo paghiga sa kama... :)

[Queen of the Damned]

Originally posted by krayola:
Read with thine heart...

Have you ever?

Have you ever noticed that the worst way to miss someone
is when they are right beside you and yet you can never have them.....
when the moment you can't feel them under your fingertips you miss them?

Have you ever wondered which hurts the most;
saying something and wishing you had not,
or saying nothing and wishing you had?

I guess the most important things are the hardest things to say.
They are the things you get ashamed of because words diminish them,
words shrink things that seemed timeless when they were in your head.....
to no more than living size when they are brought out....

Don't be afraid to tell someone you love them.
If you do, they might break your heart...
but if you don't, you might break theirs.

Have you ever decided not to become a couple
because you were so afraid of losing
what you already had with that person?

Your heart decides who it likes
and who it doesn't.
You can't tell your heart what to do.
It does it on its own....
when you least suspect it,
or even when you don't want it to.

Have you ever wanted to love someone
with everything you had,
but that other person
was too afraid to let you?

Too many of us stay walled
because we are too afraid to care too much....
for fear that the other person does not care as much,
or at all.

Have you ever loved someone
and they had absolutely no idea whatsoever?
Or fell for your best-friend in the entire world,
and then sat around and watched her
fall for someone else?


Have you ever denied your feelings for someone
because your fear of rejection was too hard to handle?

We tell lies when we are afraid....
afraid of what we don't know,
afraid of what others will think,
afraid of what will be found out
about us.
But everytime we tell a lie....
the thing we fear grows stronger.

Life is all about risks
and it requires you to jump.
Don't be a person
who has to look back
and wonder what they would have,
or could have had.
No one waits forever....

Krayola,
I have.
I've anwered yes with evry question :(

[lonewolf]

sobrang galeng ni pablo neruda, love his poems, and the one by ee cummings which maxinegirl posted...

here's something friend gave me, dunno who really wrote it or if it passes as poem...

I choose to love you in silence
for in silence I receive no rejection.
I choose to love you in loneliness
for in loneliness no one owns you but I.
I choose to adore you from a distance
for distance will shield us from pain.
I choose to kiss you in the wind
for the wind is gentler than my lips.
I choose to hold you in my dreams
for in my dreams you have no end.

[kahumbu]

Here is one of my favorite poems:

Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)

Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

:smokin:

[trish1201]

IF THOU MUST LOVE ME

if thou must love me, let it be for naught
except for love's sake only. do not say
i love her for her smile, her look, her way--
of speaking gently, for a trick of thought
that falls in well with mine, and certes brought
a sense of pleasant ease on such a day
that these things in themselves, beloved, may
be changed, and changed for thee, and love, so wrought
may be unwrought so. neither love me for
thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry
but love me for love's sake, that evermore
thou may'st love on, through love's eternity

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning
pinag-aralan namin yan in 3rd or 4th year high school--i really dont remember exactly. pero nagustuhan ko nga agad, so na memorize ko in about an hour or so after reading it!

[ronn]

i remember a poem by pablo neruda...
tonight i can write the saddest lines...

[Maven]

ei peeps!
this is one of my favorite original compositions, and i'd like to share it with you. it's kinda sad. it's all about letting go. this is the first time that im posting my work for all to see. please tell me what you think of it.

-my dear flower-
with the warm,
gentle breeze
blowing through my skin,
i pluck a flower
from the earth.
i hold it
and marvel at
its beauty.
gently,
i caress
its soft petals
and kiss it gently
perhaps
for the last time.
slowly
i face the wind
and let my flower
fly freely
with a smile
on my lips
and tears in my eyes.

[wrenz]

Annabel Lee
by Edgar Allen Poe
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love--
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason, that long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre,
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angel, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me...
Yes!--that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those
who were older than we,
Of many far wiser than we--
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee,

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

[bluviolet]

I really love this Poem by African American author Maya Angelou, parang it amkes you feel so proud to be a woman...Phenomenal Woman
by: Maya Angelou


Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size

But when I start to tell them,

they think I'm telling lies.

I say, It's in the reach of my arms,

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

The curl of my lips.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.




I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.

I say, It's the fire in my eyes,

And the flash of my teeth,

The swing of my waist,

And the joy in my feet.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.




Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can't touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,

They say they still can't see.

I say, It's in the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.




Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.

I don't shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing,

It ought to make you proud.

I say, It's in the click of my heels,

The bend of my hair,

the palm of my hand,

The need for my care.

'Cause I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

[erman]

DON'T QUIT

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit-
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a fellow turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don't give up though the pace seems slow -
You may succeed with another blow.
Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man;
Often the struggler has given up
Whe he might have captured the victor's cup;
And he learned too late when the night came down,
How close he was to the golden crown.
Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint in the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It might be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit -
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.

[Maven]

Originally posted by Bostsip
THE EMPEROR'S NEW SONNET

By J.G. Villa


hehehe... kewl one!

[butterfly07]

this was written by a frnd of a frnd of mine...

love a boy
love a toy
but never love a kanto boy.

hehe..knda silly no? la lang...

[celeb]

from e.e.cummings

what's wholly
marvellous my
Darling
is that you &
i are more than you
&i(be
ca
us
e It's we)

[celeb]

from rainier maria rilke


Slumber Song

Some day, if I should ever lose you,
will you be able then to go to sleep
without me softly whispering above you
like night air stirring in the linden tree?

Without my waking here and watching
and saying words as tender as eyelids
that come to rest weightlessly upon your breast,
upon your sleeping limbs, upon your lips?

Without my touching you and leaving you
alone with what is yours, like a summer garden
that is overflowing with masses
of melissa and star-anise?

[whatchamacallit]

This would make sense if you're familiar with Gaiman's Sandman (especially the last story arc(?) which deals with Daniel, Dream's son):

All around me
Darkness gathers
Fading is the
Sun that shone;
We must speak
Of other matters
You can be me
When I'm gone.

:~(

[misha105]

I love these poems you posted: I'm Nobody (Emily Dickinson) and Sonnet XVII (Pablo Neruda). I noticed most ppl like love romantic poems. I have something similar, but don't keep your hopes up. It's pretty funny. hehehe

Love is Fart
Sir John Suckling

Love is the fart of every heart
For when held in
Doth pain the host
But when released
Pains others most.

:girl: :bop: hehehehe


That poem "I'm Nobody" also reminds me of this nutty poem by Shel Silverstein called "Nobody" It begins with:

Nobody loves me
Nobody cares
Nobody brings me, peaches and pears

and then it goes on about Nobody doing anything and everything for hir, because they're best friends. One day,

I woke up and Nobody just wasn't there.

and so it turns out different in the end. You'd think he was feeling sorry for himself, but, like most Shel poems, it's always got a twist in the end.

:D :D :D :D

[northstar]

Panalo nga talaga yung Sonnet XVII ni Pablo Neruda! :*)


I do not love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz or arrow of carnations that propagate fire
I love you as certaib dark things are loved, in secret between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms and carries in itself the light of hidden flowers, and thank to your love,
a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing, how, or when or from where,
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this,
in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.


Eto pa isa: "After a While"

After a while you learn the subtle
difference between holding a
hand and chaining a soul.

And you learn that love
doesn't mean leaning and company
doesn't mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses
aren't contracts and presents
aren't promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your
eyes open, with the grace of an
adult, not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build all your
roads on today because tomorrow's
ground is too uncertain for plans.

After a while you learn that even
sunshine burns if you get
too much.

So plant your own garden and decorate
your own soul, instead of
waiting for someone to bring you
flowers

And you learn that you really can endure...
that you really are strong
And you really do have worth.

[SuzieWong23]

There's No Forgetting (Sonata)

Pablo Neruda


If you should ask me where I've been all this time
I have to say 'Things happen.'
I have to dwell on stones darkening the earth,
on the river ruined in its own duration:
I know nothing save things the birds have lost,
the sea I left behind, or my sister crying.
Why is the abundance of places? Why does day lock
with day? Why the dark night swilling round in
in our mouths? And why the dead?

Should you ask me where I come from, I must talk
with broken things,
with fairly painful utensils,
with great beasts turned to dust as often as not
and my afflicted heart.

These are not memories that have passed each other
nor the yellowing pigeon asleep in our forgetting;
these are tearful faces
and fingers down our throats
and whatever among leaves falls to the ground:
the dark of a day gone by
grown fat on our grieving blood.

Here are violets, and here swallows,
all things we love and which inform
sweet messages seriatim
through which time passes and sweetness passes.

We don't get far, though, beyond these teeth:
Why waste time gnawing the husks of silence?
I know not what to answer:
there are so many dead,
and so many dikes the red sun breached,
and so many heads battering hulls
and so many hands that have closed over kisses
and so many things that I want to forget.

[tequilapj]

here's one of my fave poems of all time. it's by boris pasternak, the russian who also wrote "dr zhivago." if you don't feel anything after reading this, bato ka!


Like a beast in a pen, I'm cut off
From my friends, freedom, the sun,
But the hunters are gaining ground.
I've nowhere else to run.

Dark wood and the bank of a pond,
Trunk of a fallen tree.
There's no way forward, no way back.
It's all up with me.

Am I a gangster or murderer?
Of what crime do I stand
Condemned? I made the whole world weep
At the beauty of my land.

Even so, one step from my grave,
I believe that cruelty, spite,
The powers of darkness will in time
Be crushed by the spirit of light.

The beaters in a ring close in
With the wrong prey in view,
I've nobody at my right hand,
Nobody faithful and true.

And with such a noose on my throat
I should like for one second
My tears to be wiped away
By someone at my right hand.


Boris Pasternak
1959

[tequilapj]

call me a purist, but i like the original spanish version of pablo's "tonight i can write..."

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Escribir, por ejemplo: "La noche está estrellada,
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos".
El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.
En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos.
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.
Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.
Oir la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella.
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.
Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.
La noche está estrellada y ella no está conmigo.
Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.
Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.
Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.
La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.
Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise.
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.
De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.
Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.
Porque en noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos,
mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.
Aunque éste sea el último dolor que ella me causa,
y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.

[oozbao]

Here's one on death and dying by an unknown author....

IMMORTAL
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there.
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the star that shine at night.
So do not stand at my grave and weep...
I am not there...
I do not sleep.

[TWISTEDHEAVEN]

ANGEL IN MY FOUR-CORNERED WALL

im not worthy of divinity, hiding from heaven...
as God's face is constantly bleeding and wounded.
crystal drops from my eyes into my lips, tasting the emptiness
within me, within the inner me...
demons plaguing me everywhere, i cant hide, i cant run...
my head's spinning from the dizzying scent of darkness...
the shadow of everything i dont want to become...
my horns are growing, i want it broken, forever broken...
dreaded piece of mortality, screaming to break free...
poisoned lungs of weakness, im singing my requiem to the world..
breathe no more, breathe no more, silence come to me..
ashes fall down from above me, upon my dirty hands of guilt..
screaming my soul out from the deepest thoughts thereis,
swallowing the consequences of all my deeds..
proclaim justice, crucify me, pin me down to an endless mourn
im walking through this labyrinth, never-ending....walking blindfolded...
feeling the air as it crushes through my face..
i've been here before, i know, but it's somewhat different now....
saw light on the other side, no, i've seen nothing before...
in from of me was the same window..but 'twas locked except for one....
i heard some noise..then it stopped..
my hands reached out to unlock what’s in front of me...
and once more, stepped into somewhere forbidden..
my blood-shot eyes, fully awakened, stared in the still of darkness before me....
i was alone..somehow, cause i cant feel any existence from the other door...
wait, i was wrong..i felt heat that made me shiver...
it wasn’t beside me nor was it from within..
nevertheless, i less care, for this is the place where my time stood still..
it's where something shed its light upon me..
sometimes, something fell apart and brought about rain..
how i wish it was endless...for if im here i fear almost nothing..
there were times when my spirit was devoured by deception and lies..
soul-grinding, i still feel it now..in the same place.
moments passed by, recalling warmth in a cold, dark night..
angels flew, but i know this isn’t heaven nor it is hell.
it was only a place on earth that i dare to live my life, ..if i have one....
i've got demons in my head, well who says they have none...
but their horns fell broken as i set my eyes upon an angel...
wings and halo, she has none..
but as i look deeply into her eyes, I’ve seen everything then it burned and starts to set fire..
i saw blaze everywhere but i never run away..
never...in a place where my time stood still.....
prayed it was endless....crave it was forever burning...

twistedheaven@yahoo.com

[TWISTEDHEAVEN]

im no shakespeare nor the likes...i am but no one...this is just my reflections...

MIRRORS BENEATH COMPLEXITY

Fragments of sanity flickered through the veins of time…
Nevertheless inhaled a tortured, augmented scene…
Enveloping a sphere of ecstacy devoured by shadows…
That catapulted a stream of whispering little voices…
Dancing through the winds of ambient freedom…
The gods of rapture humbled the chaotic strangle of soothing wounds eclipsed by daggers of silence…
Numb and deaf, flies to an atmosphere of angel-filled dimension…
To a light that strucked my eyes, casted a spell of thousand flowers…
A fragrance that held me beneath the mirrors of complexity…
I wanted to stare dearly, drown myself completely….
Cage everything I own, everything I know, everything I hold…
Trembling as I speak before every single moving flesh…
Delivered unto the oh, so pathetic lies wherein the earthly prophets dwell…
Delusional thoughts, close ur eyes and be blinded….
For the hands that built ur dogma, is bleeding like the memories of heaven…
Peeling the repetitive skin that chambers our collapsing sacrilege to none…

twistedheaven@yahoo.com

[TWISTEDHEAVEN]

THROUGH THE EYES OF EMPTINESS

Silhouettes from up above me…
Shattered images of wounded angels driven and grasped the wings of mortality..
Piercing needles of hate and lies that devoured the flux of light…
Manipulating….emerging from nowhere…
Crawling beneath my weakness and numbing my sanity…
Fragile…casting shadows amidst blindness…
Stripping…shredding to reveal second skin…
The thirst for reality, drowning in flames…impurity…
Unlocked doors that lead to a monster called fate…
Lips uttering spoken scriptures painted on blank walls…
Fearing but needing the embrace of hands clothed in divinity..
To resurrect the remains of a labyrinth that flows through the whispers of footsteps behind
The beauty of desolation…isolation….
Hearing voices calling upon deceptive reflection of different colors..
Lovely as they are…..for mortal visions cannot see….through the eyes of emptiness…

twistedheaven@yahoo.com

[with_a_K]

From Calvin & Hobbes by Bill Watterson

The aliens came from a far distant world
In a large yellow ship that blinked as it twirled
It rounded the moon, and entered our sky
we knew they had come but we didn't know why
Bright the next morning with noisy commotion
The ship slowly moved out over the ocean
It lowered a tube and drained the whole sea
For transport back home to their galaxy
The tube then sucked up the clouds and the air
Causing no small amount of earthling despair
With nothing to breathe we started to die
"Help us! Please stop!" was the public outcry
A hatch opened up and the aliens said
"We're sorry to learn that you soon will be dead,
but though you may find this slightly macabre
we prefer your extinction to the loss of our job."

and at the end of the strip Calvin says, "That's my science fiction story. Think it's too farfetched?"
"Not enough really," is Hobbes' response.

[Jane Gallagher]

IF by Rudyard Kipling

[*Twinkle*]

cge post pa kayo! im collecting poems kse, lalo na yung about love. if you have something to post naman, pls. post them! thanks!

[sea sprite]

Ebb
Edna St. Vincent Millay

I know what my heart is like
Since your love died:
It is like a hollow ledge
Holding a little pool
Left there by the tide,
A little tepid pool,
Drying inward from the edge.


Aaaarrrgh!

[raven23]

Originally posted by sea sprite
Ebb
Edna St. Vincent Millay

I know what my heart is like
Since your love died:
It is like a hollow ledge
Holding a little pool
Left there by the tide,
A little tepid pool,
Drying inward from the edge.
I like this poem. "Draining inward from the edge." Yup. :sad:

There's another thread on love poems, so I figured I'd just post my favorite 'general' poem(s) here.

[raven23]

Originally posted by kahumbu
Here is one of my favorite poems:

Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)

Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
.
.
.
I wanted to post this, too, but apparently someone already did.

:spinstar: Interesting tidbit: Bob Dylan was originally Bob Zimmerman, and adopted the screen name Dylan presumably after, you guessed it, the late Welsh poet Dylan Thomas, though I think he continues to deny this.

[raven23]

Like A Rolling Stone
Bob Dylan

Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you?
People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"
You thought they were all kiddin' you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it
And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street
And now you find out you're gonna have to get used to it
You said you'd never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And ask him do you want to make a deal?

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns
When they all come down and did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain't no good
You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you
You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made
Exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things
But you'd better lift your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

[raven23]

(The emphases are all mine.)

The Hollow Men
T. S. Eliot

I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rat's feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar.

Shape without form, shade without color,
Paralyzed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us - if at all - not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death's dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death's dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer.

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom.

III

This is the dead land
This is the cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdom.
In the last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

For thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but with a whimper.

[mscrookshanks]

my all time fave is ee cumming's "somewhere i have never travelled", and it was posted in this thread twice. the song that has this poem is simply one of the bests! i think it is part of the beauty and the beast soundtrack (another fave of mine..:) )

anyway, this is also one of my favorites. may sound elementary and simple, but i still appreciate it nevertheless.


TREES
Joyce Kilmer

I think that i shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast

A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair

Upon whose bosom snow has lain
Who intimately lives with rain

Poems are made by fools like me
But only God can make a tree.

[raven23]

Delusion Angel
By David Jewell
(from the movie Before Sunrise)

Daydream delusion.
Limousine Eyelash
Oh, baby with your pretty face
Drop a tear in my wineglass
Look at those big eyes
See what you mean to me
Sweet cakes and milkshakes

I am a delusioned angel
I am a fantasy parade.
I want you to know what I think.
Don't want you to guess anymore.
You have no idea where I came from.
We have no idea where we're going.

Launched in life.
Like branches in the river.
Flowing downstream.
Caught in the current.
I'll carry you. You'll carry me.
That's how it could be.
Don't you know me
Don't you know me by now.

[raven23]

As I Walked Out One Evening
W.H. Auden

As I walked out one evening,
***Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
***Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
***I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
***'Love has no ending.

"I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
***Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
***And the salmon sing in the street,

"I'll love you till the ocean
***Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
***Like geese about the sky.

"The years shall run like rabbits,
***For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
***And the first love of the world."

But all the clocks in the city
***Began to whirr and chime:
"O let not Time deceive you,
***You cannot conquer Time.

"In the burrows of the Nightmare
***Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
***And coughs when you would kiss.

"In headaches and in worry
***Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
***To-morrow or to-day.

"Into many a green valley
***Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
***And the diver's brilliant bow.

"O plunge your hands in water,
***Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
***And wonder what you've missed.

"The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
***The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
***A lane to the land of the dead.

"Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
***And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
***And Jill goes down on her back.

"O look, look in the mirror?
***O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
***Although you cannot bless.

"O stand, stand at the window
***As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
***With your crooked heart."

It was late, late in the evening,
***The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
***And the deep river ran on.

[taltos]

from pablo neruda, the queen


I have named you queen
There are taller ones than you, taller.
There are purer ones than you, purer.
There are lovelier ones than you, lovelier.

But you are the queen.

When you go through the streets
no one recognizes you.
No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks
at the carpet of red gold
that you tread as you pass,
the nonexistent carpet

And when you appear
all the river sound
in my body, bells
shake the sky,
and a hymn fills the world.

Only you and I,
only you and I, my love,
listen to it.

********************************************

another one from pablo neruda

If You Forget Me"
By Pablo Neruda
In English:
(En Inglés)

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists:
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.



*************************************


from maningning miclat

BLEED

Watch me
I am bleeding
Why can't you tell?

It is only myself,
Exposed to sharp edges of words,
As my eyes seek for you.

So watch me live
As my heart breaks
With clots of blood, I bleed.

**************************************


from sylvia plath

I Am Vertical

But I would rather be horizontal.
I am not a tree with my root in the soil
Sucking up minerals and motherly love
So that each March I may gleam into leaf,
Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed
Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,
Unknowing I must soon unpetal.
Compared with me, a tree is immortal
And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,
And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring.

Tonight, in the infinitesimallight of the stars,
The trees and the flowers have been strewing their cool odors.
I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.
Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping
I must most perfectly resemble them--
Thoughts gone dim.
It is more natural to me, lying down.
Then the sky and I are in open conversation,
And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:
Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.



*********************************


Last Words
I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus
With tigery stripes, and a face on it
Round as the moon, to stare up.
I want to be looking at them when they come
Picking among the dumb minerals, the roots.
I see them already--the pale, star-distance faces.
Now they are nothing, they are not even babies.
I imagine them without fathers or mothers, like the first gods.
They will wonder if I was important.
I should sugar and preserve my days like fruit!
My mirror is clouding over ---
A few more breaths, and it will reflect nothing at all.
The flowers and the faces whiten to a sheet.

I do not trust the spirit. It escapes like steam
In dreams, through mouth-hole or eye-hole. I can't stop it.
One day it won't come back. Things aren't like that.
They stay, their little particular lusters
Warmed by much handling. They almost purr.
When the soles of my feet grow cold,
The blue eye of my turquoise will comfort me.
Let me have my copper cooking pots, let my rouge pots
Bloom about me like night flowers, with a good smell.
They will roll me up in bandages, they will store my heart
Under my feet in a neat parcel.
I shall hardly know myself. It will be dark,
And the shine of these small things sweeter than the face of Ishtar.

[syriadee]

Effort at Speech Between Two People
by Muriel Rukeyser


Speak to me. Take my hand. What are you now?
I will tell you all. I will conceal nothing.
When I was three, a little child read a story about a rabbit
who died, in the story, and I crawled under a chair :
a pink rabbit : it was my birthday, and a candle
burnt a sore spot on my finger, and I was told to be happy.

Oh, grow to know me. I am not happy. I will be open :
Now I am thinking of white sails against a sky like music,
like glad horns blowing, and birds tilting, and an arm about me.
There was one I loved, who wanted to live, sailing.

Speak to me. Take my hand. What are you now?
When I was nine, I was fruitily sentimental,
fluid : and my widowed aunt played Chopin,
and I bent my head on the painted woodwork, and wept.
I want now to be close to you. I would
link the minutes of my days close, somehow, to your days.

I am not happy. I will be open.
I have liked lamps in evening comers, and quiet poems.
There has been fear in my life. Sometimes I speculate
On what a tragedy his life was, really.

Take my hand. Fist my mind in your hand. What are you now?
When I was fourteen, I had dreams of suicide,
and I stood at a steep window, at sunset, hoping toward death :
if the light had not melted clouds and plains to beauty,
if light had not transformed that day, I would have leapt.
I am unhappy. I am lonely. Speak to me.

I will be open. I think he never loved me :
he loved the bright beaches, the little lips of foam
that ride small waves, he loved the veer of gulls :
he said with a gay mouth : I love you. Grow to know me.

What are you now? If we could touch one another,
if these our separate entities could come to grips,
clenched like a Chinese puzzle . . . yesterday
I stood in a crowded street that was live with people,
and no one spoke a word, and the morning shone.
Everyone silent, moving. . . . Take my hand. Speak to me.

[p0seR]

Rainer Maria Rilke
You Who Never Arrived...

You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of
the next moment. All the immense
images in me -- the far-off, deeply-felt
landscape, cities, towers, and bridges, and
unsuspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods--
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.

You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house-- , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me.
Streets that I chanced upon,--
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and,
startled, gave back my too-sudden image.
Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening...

[p0seR]

another Neruda favorite...

We Are The Clumsy Passerby
Pablo Neruda

We are the clumsy passersby, we push past each other with elbows,
with feet, with trousers, with suitcases,
we get off the train, the jet plane, the ship, we step down
in our wrinkled suits and sinister hats.
We are all guilty, we are all sinners,
we come from dead-end hotels or industrial peace,
this might be our last clean shirt,
we have misplaced our tie,
yet even so, on the edge of panic, pompous,
sons of ******* who move in the highest circles
or quiet types who don't owe anything to anybody,
we are one and the same, the same in time's eyes,
or in solitude's: we are the poor devils
who earn a living and a death working
bureautragically or in the usual ways,
sitting down or packed together in subway stations,
boats, mines, research centers, jails,
universities, breweries,
(under our clothes the same thirsty skin),
(the hair, the same hair, only in different colors).

[xtx]

this is my fave! ewan ko, prang dama ko *** sinasabi nya...
prang d lang squeezed out from his mind,pero from the heart ****.


George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron. 1788–1824

597. When we Two parted

WHEN we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold, 5
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow— 10
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken, 15
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me—
Why wert thou so dear? 20
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met— 25
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years, 30
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.

[solace]

Taken from ohmy's post from another thread (http://www.pinoyexchange.com/forums/showthread.php3?s=&postid=1373562&t=2914#post1373562).

the most painful distance in the world,
is not between the living and the dead,
but it is when you cant see that i love you,
even though i stand in front of you.

the most painful distance in the world,
is not when you cant see that i love you,
it is when two hearts love yet can not be as one.

the most painful distance in the world,
is not when two hearts love, but can not be as one,
but when indifference must be feined, to a distance,
which in truth, binds the two souls together.

- taken from eneri.net

[foxxxy]

After A While
Veronica Shoffstall

After a while you learn the subtle
difference between holding a hand
and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn't mean
leaning and company doesn't mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
with your hed up and your eyes open,
With the grace of an adult,
not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads
on today because tomorrow's ground
is too uncertain for plans.

After a while you learn that even
sunshine burns if you get too much
So plant your own garden and decorate
your own soul, instead of
waiting for someone to bring you flowers
And you learn that you really can endure
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth

[Aina24]

Originally posted by foxxxy
After A While
Veronica Shoffstall

After a while you learn the subtle
difference between holding a hand
and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn't mean
leaning and company doesn't mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
with your hed up and your eyes open,
With the grace of an adult,
not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads
on today because tomorrow's ground
is too uncertain for plans.

After a while you learn that even
sunshine burns if you get too much
So plant your own garden and decorate
your own soul, instead of
waiting for someone to bring you flowers
And you learn that you really can endure
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth

I really love that poem. But the debate as to who really wrote that beautiful piece still goes on. Comes the Dawn by Kara DiGiovanna is more complete. Personally, i feel this is the original.

COMES THE DAWN

After a while you learn
the subtle difference
Between holding a hand
and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head held up and your eyes open,
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child

And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground
Is too uncertain for plans, and futures have
A way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn that
Even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So you plant your own garden
And decorate your own soul, instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure....

That you really are strong
That you really have worth.
And you learn and learn....
With every goodbye you learn.

[Idiosyncratic]

Warning
By Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start wearing purple.



I love this poem. It reminded me of my grandmother. :) And I got to thinking about the crazy stuff I would do when I got old. How funny one day I'll be that old lady I used to laugh at, who goes out in her pajamas talks in cryptic passages scares children by offering them suspicious toffee candy.

[d0rky]

Sonnet XVII is my favorite poem =)
A close second would be e.e. cummings' somewhere i have never travelled.

The poems posted here are amazing!
I want a collection of Pablo Neruda's works. I've seen a lot of them in bookstores...I don't know which one to choose. Could anyone recommend one, please? Thank you!

I read the poem "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night" by Thomas. I remember a certain movie using that line, "Rage, rage against the dying of the light," but I can't quite remember what movie it was. :ahh: Does anyone know?

I will be taking up Poetry this coming sem, so expect additions to this thread from me soon. :D

[raven23]

Originally posted by d0rky
I read the poem "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night" by Thomas. I remember a certain movie using that line, "Rage, rage against the dying of the light," but I can't quite remember what movie it was. :ahh: Does anyone know?Would that be Back To School (http://us.imdb.com/Title?0090685) starring Rodney Dangerfield?

[enid_warren]

THE ANSWER
by me :)

Torn and broken apart,
Lost with sorrow filling my heart.
Alone,confused and depressed,
My soul and body weary for rest.

Feet tired from walking all day,
No real destination,no place to stay.
Hungry for love,starving for comfort,
Trodding roads unknown.

Searching for the answer I seek,
Looking for signs I need.
Footprints in the sand I see,
My redemption is within reach!

There on the hill in Calvary,
The Lord Jesus died for me.
With perfect love He forgave,
And freed me for all eternity.

The answer I seek I have found.
The love I crave I was given.
Filled with the comfort I need,
Redeemed beyond damnation.

Jesus is the answer,
Look nowhere else.
By His Blood we are saved,
With Him we will stay!

--------------------------
what can you say? enidine@lycos.com

[d0rky]

Originally posted by raven23
Would that be Back To School (http://us.imdb.com/Title?0090685) starring Rodney Dangerfield? Err...I don't think I've ever seen that movie -- I'm not even familiar with it -- so I don't think that's it. But thanks anyway! :)

[zemenelin]

Sometimes I feel lonely
And sometimes I feel sad,
But what I feel now
Can be seen as really bad.

Confused I really am,
About everything in life.
Why do I have to live?
Every day of it in strife?

Life is supposed to be good.
Life isn't about pain.
So why do I feel
There is nothing more to gain?

I feel that there is nothing,
Nothing more I can give-
At least not in this life.
I don't want to live.

There was one thing in my life,
One thing that I lived for.
But, it'll soon be gone forever,
So then what else do I have more?

I'm getting tired of everything
And I can't fight much longer,
Because this feeling I have
Is just getting a lot stronger.

I'm looking for a way out,
But I see none ahead.
I don't want to be confused anymore,
Because I would rather be dead.


This is how I feel
locked away inside.
No one knows, but still
all they do is hide.

I don't trust you.
I don't know them.
What should I do?
My world is growing dim.

Please, someone talk to me;
acknowledge my sight.
Someone or something let me see
that how is I feel is right.

This is how I feel
locked away inside.
No one knows, but still
all they do is hide.
No one cares,
they never have.
It's just not fair,
having no one to have

[Veynn]

My Untimely Demise
by Veynn (by me)

I thought of it a long time ago
Of what I'm going to do and where I'll go
My untimely demise, is this what I seek?
I searched for questions and answers
Including in my sleep.

I looked for love; it has always been there
But the love I found is not for me to share
I fell so many times but I know ill fall again
Stop this madness! It has always been unfair!

My existence, I know, it is a test
God gave me this life, which I truly detest
Peoples say He has something in store
But I'm slowly slipping into oblivion
So what is it for?

This mask I wear gave me a little light
To give me hope and continue the fight?
I don't think so for I am sick
Of life's lies and dirty tricks.

My dark sky please let it rain
Death and suffering has called my name
From which I came the blood has spilled
Please take my soul to the darkest field.

Once in a while I see my fate
So lonely, what a tragedy
I know it's too late.
But when I come back, you will all see
My untimely demise is the one that set me free.

[reykjavik]

I don't know if someone's already posted this but I really like the Stolen Child by Yeats and this is a small part of it:

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

[Idiosyncratic]

What Zimer Would Be
Paul Zimmer

Whe asked, I used to say,
"I want to be a doctor."
Which is the same thing
As a child saying,
"I want to be a priest,"
Or
"I want to be a magician,"
Which is the laying
Of hands, the vibrations,
The rabbit in the hat,
Or the body in the cup,
The curing of the sick
And the raising of the dead.

"Fix and fix, you're all better,"
I would say
To the neighborhood wounded
As we fought the world war
Through the vacant lots of Ohio.
"Fix and fix, you're all better,"
And they would rise
To fight again.
But then
I saw my aunt die slowly of cancer
and a man struck down by a car.

All along I had really
wanted to be a poet,
Whis is, you see, almost
The same thing as saying,
"I want to be a doctor,"
"I want to be a priest,"
"I want to be a magician."
All along, withough realizing it,
I had wanted to be a poet.
Fix and fix, you're all better

[Idiosyncratic]

The Painters
Judith Hemschemeyer


Everything was yellow:
the warm, milk-yellow paint
they got by mixing in the white
and stirring it with long, flat wooden sticks,

the lemonade she made
and gave to me to take to them
in the white enamel pitcher rimmed with blue,

the ropes of piss they pissed into the paint . . .
"Did not!"
"Did too!" I told my sister.
"They said it makes the paint adhere."

"Those two!" Mother laughed when we told her,
and she blushed and made more lemonade.
We'd never seen her so happy, joking with them,

her arm flung over her face for shade.
And by supper the house was yellow too,
our wooden cave sealed thick and tight and safe
with paint and piss and lemonade.

[Idiosyncratic]

Amsterdam
Michael Horovitz

Dinky clocks peal
Musical hours, witness
Haiku shock inklings

& ****s in the head
Of the big frog ego

Drowned by each glaring
Small pond flash -

Yellow leaves
as they quit
each tree -
To hit
the moonlit
canal-skin

Leaving ripples that line
Mental traveller's brow

- Till splitting

[vans]

The street died tonight everyone come and see…



The Ever shopping mall closed down
No vacancy no vacancies?
I don’t have a carton to sleep over tonight…

Gin caloy writes
Listen to his loneliness echoes in the night…
Watch his beard grows like wild grass
on the cold concrete of Rizal Avenue,
under the LRT you can’t see the stars
You can’t sleep unless you’re drunk.

Oil lick my face like
Alcohol.
Thoughts of you
Burns like cigarette between my lips.

hey want to check out somemore of my poems hir..........http://cafepoetry.com/stage_pages.asp?ID=273&Stagename=bans

[reykjavik]

Here's another I thought might appeal. It's short and to the point:

IN A STATION OF THE METRO ( by Ezra Pound)

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.


I also like Margaret Atwood's
You begin and This is a photograph of me . "You begin" is about a mother telling her child that you start with simple things in life but realize there are more complicated things in life and "more words than you can ever learn". "This is a photograph of me" is a very mysterious poem. The narrator is telling the poem from beyond the grave basically.

[raven23]

Originally posted by reykjavik
IN A STATION OF THE METRO ( by Ezra Pound)

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
Wow. I remember this poem (and The Emperor's New Poem) from English Lit. under Dr. Manlapaz. Man... how I wish I could dig up all my notes / handouts from that class.

[Idiosyncratic]

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul.

In the fell cluth of circumstances
I have not winced nor cried aloud;
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishment the scroll,
I AM THE MASTER OF MY FATE;
I AM THE CAPTAIN OF MY SOUL!

[go_figure]

AS A PERFUME
by arthur symons

as a perfume both remain
in the folds where it hath lain,
so the thought of you, remaining
deeply folded in my brain,
will not leave me: all things leave me:
you remain.

other thoughts may come and go,
other moments i may know
that shall waft me, in their going,
as a breath blown to and fro
fragrant memories: fragrant memories
come and go.

only thoughts of you remain
in my heart where they have lain,
perfumed thoughts of you remaining,
a hid of sweetness, in my brain,
others leave me: all things leave me:
You remain

[glidinglizard]

two of my all time favorites are already here:

I'm Nobody by Emily Dickinson and Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe

I'll post my other favorites soon!

[frenzy]

MORNING


Naked, you are simple as one of your hands,
smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round:
you have moon-lines, apple-pathways:
naked, you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.

Naked, you are blue as a night in Cuba;
you have vines and stars in your hair;
naked, you are spacious and yellow
as summer in a golden church.

Naked, you are tiny as one of your nails –
curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born
and you withdraw to the underground world,
as if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores:
your clear light dims, gets dressed – drops its leaves –
and becomes a naked hand again.





(From “Love: Ten Poems by Pablo Neruda”)





*pexadik*

[frenzy]

I LIKE FOR YOU TO BE STILL


I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
and you hear me from far away and my voice does not touch you.
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.

As all things are filled with my soul
you emerge from the things, filled with my soul.
You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream,
and you are like the word Melancholy.

I like for you to be still, and you seem far away.
It sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly cooing like a dove.
And you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you:
Let me come to be still in your silence.

And let me talk to you with your silence
that is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.
You are like the night, with its stillness and constellations.
Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.

I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died.
One word then, one smile, is enough.
And I am happy, happy that it’s not true.





(From “Love: Ten Poems by Pablo Neruda”)





*pexadik*

[frenzy]

POETRY


And it was at that age … Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something stared in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.





(From “Love: Ten Poems by Pablo Neruda”)





*pexadik*

[frenzy]

WALKING AROUND


It happens that I am tired of being a man.
It happens that I go into the tailors’ shops and the movies
all shriveled up, impenetrable, like a felt swan
navigating on a water of origin and ash.

The smell of barber shops makes me sob out loud.
I want nothing but the repose either of stones or of wool,
I want to see no more establishments, no more gardens,
nor merchandise, nor glasses, nor elevators.

It happens that I am tired of my feet and my nails
and my hair and my shadow.
It happens that I am tired of being a man.

Just the same it would be delicious
to scare a notary with a cut lily
or knock a nun stone dead with one blow of an ear.
It would be beautiful
to go through the streets with a green knife
shouting until I died of cold.

I do not want to go on being a root in the dark,
hesitating, stretched out, shivering with dreams,
downwards, in the wet tripe of the earth,
soaking it up and thinking, eating every day.

I do not want to be the inheritor of so many misfortunes.
I do not want to continue as a root and as a tomb,
as a solitary tunnel, as a cellar full of corpses,
stiff with cold, dying with pain.

For this reason Monday burns like oil
at the sight of me arriving with my jail-face,
and it howls in passing like a wounded wheel,
and its footsteps towards nightfall are filled with hot blood.

And it shoves me along to certain corners, to certain damp houses,
to hospitals where the bones come out of the windows,
to certain cobblers’ shops smelling of vinegar,
to streets horrendous as crevices.

There are birds the colour of sulphur, and horrible intestines
hanging from the doors of the houses which I hate,
there are forgotten sets of teeth in a coffee-pot,
there are mirrors
which I should have wept with shame and horror,
there are umbrellas all over the place, and poisons, and navels.

I stride along with calm, with eyes, with shoes,
with fury, with forgetfulness,
I pass, I cross offices and stores full of orthopedic appliances,
and courtyards hung with clothes on wires,
underpants, towels and shirts which weep
slow dirty tears.





(From “Love: Ten Poems by Pablo Neruda”)





*pexadik*

[frenzy]

LEANING INTO THE AFTERNOONS …


Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets
towards your oceanic eyes.

There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames,
its arms turning like a drowning man’s.

I send out red signals across your absent eyes
that wave like the sea or the beach by a lighthouse.

You keep only darkness, my distant female,
from your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges.

Leaning into the afternoons I fling my sad nets
to that sea that is thrashed by your oceanic eyes.

The birds of night peck at the first stars
that flash like my soul when I love you.

The night gallops on its shadowy mare
shedding blue tassels over the land.





(From “Love: Ten Poems by Pablo Neruda”)





*pexadik*

[frenzy]

ADONIC ANGELA


Today I stretched out next to a pure young woman
as if at the shore of a white ocean,
as if at the center of a burning star
of slow space.

From her lengthily green gaze
the light fell like dry water,
in transparent and deep circles
of fresh force.

Her bosom like a two-flamed fire
burned raised in two regions,
and in a double river reached
her large, clear feet.

A climate of gold scarcely ripened
the diurnal lengths of her body
filling it with extended fruits
and hidden fire.





(From “Love: Ten Poems by Pablo Neruda”)






*pexadik*

[frenzy]

FABLE OF THE MERMAID AND THE DRUNKS


All these fellows were there inside
when she entered, utterly naked.
They had been drinking, and began to spit at her.
Recently come from the river, she understood nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The taunts flowed over her glistening flesh.
Obscenities drenched her golden breasts.
A stranger to tears, she did not weep.
A stranger to clothes, she did not dress.
They pocked her with cigarette ends and with burnt corks,
and rolled on the tavern floor in raucous laughter.
She did not speak, since speech was unknown to her.
Her eyes were the colour of faraway love,
her arms were matching topazes.
Her lips moved soundlessly in coral light,
and ultimately, she left by that door.
Hardly had she entered the river than she was cleansed,
gleaming once more like a white stone in the rain;
and without a backward look, she swam once more,
swam towards nothingness, swam to her dying.





(From “Love: Ten Poems by Pablo Neruda”)





*pexadik*

[frenzy]

TONIGHT I CAN WRITE …


Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, ‘The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.’

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another’s. She will be another’s. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.





(From “Love: Ten Poems by Pablo Neruda”)





*pexadik*

[frenzy]

ODE TO A BEAUTIFUL NUDE


With a chaste heart,
with pure eyes,
I celebrate your beauty
holding the leash of blood
so that it might leap out
and trace your outline
where
you lie down in my ode
as in a land of forests, or in surf:
in aromatic loam
or in sea-music.

Beautiful nude:
equally beautiful
your feet arched by primeval tap
of wind or sound;
your eyes
small shells
of the splendid American sea;
your breasts
of level plenitude full-
filled by living light;
your flying
eyelids of wheat
revealing
or enclosing
the two deep countries of your eyes.

The line your shoulders
have divided
into pale regions
loses itself and blends
into the compact halves
of an apple,
continues separating
your beauty down
into two columns
of burnished gold, fine alabaster,
to sink into the two grapes of your feet,
where your twin symmetrical tree
burns again and rises:
flowering fire, open chandelier,
a swelling fruit
over the pact of sea and earth.

From what materials –
agate, quartz, wheat –
did your body come together,
swelling like baking bread
to signal silvered
hills,
the cleavage of one petal,
sweet fruits of a deep velvet,
until alone remained,
astonished,
the fine and firm feminine form?

It is not only light that falls
over the world,
spreading inside your body
its suffocated snow,
so much as clarity
taking its leave of you
as if you were
on fire within.

The moon lives in the lining of your skin.





(From “Love: Ten Poems by Pablo Neruda”)





*pexadik*

[frenzy]

ODE TO SEA


Here, surrounding the island,
there’s sea,
but what sea:
it’s always
overflowing,
says yes then no,
says yes in blue,
in sea spray, raging,
says no and no again.
It can’t be still:
it stammers “My name is Sea,”
it slaps the rocks
and when they aren’t convinced
strokes them and soaks them
and smothers them with kisses
with seven green tongues
of seven green dogs
or seven green tigers
or seven green seas,
beating its chest,
stammering its name.
O sea, this is your name,
O comrade ocean:
don’t waste your time or water
getting so upset:
help us instead.

We’re meager
fishermen,
men from the shore.
We’re hungry and cold
and you’re our foe.
Don’t beat so hard,
don’t shout so loud:
open your green coffers,
place
gifts of silver
in our hands;
give us this day our daily fish.

It’s what
we all want.
Though made of silver,
glass and moonlight,
it was meant for
the poorest kitchens.
Don’t hoard it
greedily
speeding cold
like wet lightning
below your waves.
Come to us now,
open up,
leave it
within reach.
Help us, ocean,
father deep and green,
help us put at an end
to the world’s poverty.
Let us
harvest boundless
crops of your lives,
your wheat and grapes,
oxen and ores,
your wet splendour
and submerged fruits.

We know your name,
father sea: seagulls
shriek it over the sands.
So shape up:
don’t toss your mane,
don’t give us trouble,
don’t break your lovely teeth
trying to topple the sky.
Set the grand stories
aside from now,
give us our daily fish,
big or little as you wish,
one for every man,
woman
and child.
Prowl the streets
of this wide world
doling out your fish,
now
shouting
shouting
for all to hear,
all the working poor
gathered at the mouth
of the mine
saying:
“Here’s old man sea
doling out his fish.”
Then they’ll return
smiling
to the darkness: streets
and forests
will be full of smiling people.
The earth
will wear a sea-blue smile.

But
if you’re against it,
if it’s not to your taste,
wait,
wait for us.
We’ll think it over,
we’ll put the affairs
of mankind
in order,
big things first
then all the rest.
And
we’ll wade in
slicing your waves
with knives of fire.
We’ll mount your crests
on electric steeds.
We’ll plunge
singing
to the center
of your being.
Atomic threads
will wrap your waist.
We’ll dig
plants of steel and cement
in your deep garden.
We’ll tie you
hand and foot.
People will spit casually,
gliding, on your skin.
They’ll pull flowers from your side.
They’ll fashion a harness,
mount and break you
and take over your soul,
But this will only happen if
we
solve
our problem,
our
greatest problem.
We’ll take it
little by little:
we will make you, sea
and earth, we will make you
perform miracles,
because inside us,
inside our struggle,
is our daily bread, our fish
and our miracle.





(From “Love: Ten Poems by Pablo Neruda”)





*pexadik*

[vans]

The street died tonight everyone come and see…



The Ever shopping mall closed down
No vacancy no vacancies?
I don’t have a carton to sleep over tonight…

Gin caloy writes
Listen to his loneliness echoes in the night…
Watch his beard grows like wild grass
on the cold concrete of Rizal Avenue,
under the LRT you can’t see the stars
You can’t sleep unless you’re drunk.

Oil lick my face like
Alcohol.
Thoughts of you
Burns like cigarette between my lips.

check out for more >>>> http://cafepoetry.com/stage_pages.asp?ID=273&Stagename=bans

[Idiosyncratic]

This is It
and I am It
and you are It
And so it That
and he is It
and she is It
and it is It
and that is That

- James Broughton

[pica_pica3]

Lessons of Life

I feared being alone
until I learned to like
myself.

I feared failure
until I realized that I only
fail when I don't try.

I feared success
until I realized
that I had to try
in order to be happy
with myself.

I feared people's opinions
until I learned that
people would have opinions
about me anyway.

I feared rejection
until I learned to
have faith in myself.

I feared pain
until I learned that
it's necessary
for growth.

I feared the truth
until I saw the
ugliness in lies.

I feared life
until I experienced
its beauty.

I feared death
until I realized that it's
not an end, but a beginning.

I feared my destiny,
until I realized that
I had the power to change
my life.

I feared hate
until I saw that it
was nothing more than
ignorance.

I feared love
until it touched my heart,
making the darkness fade
into endless sunny days.

I feared ridicule
until I learned how
to laugh at myself.

I feared growing old
until I realized that
I gained wisdom every day.

I feared the future
until I realized that
life just kept getting
better.

I feared the past
until I realized that
it could no longer hurt me.

I feared the dark
until I saw the beauty
of the starlight.

I feared the light
until I learned that the
truth would give me
strength.

I feared change,
until I saw that
even the most beautiful butterfly
had to undergo a metamorphosis
before it could fly.

By Bobette Bryan


See:DESIDERATA (http://www.angelfire.com/de2/evette/desiderata.htm) :)

[mookie]

I wished for a friend so honest so true,
then there was you.
I wished for a friend who knows me inside out,
and there was you.
I wished for a friend who'd be totally honest to tell me I made
a mistake,
and there was you.
I wished for a friend who'd help me pick up the pieces when i fall,
and there was you.
I wished for a friend to accept me for who I am,
and there was you.
I wished for someone to love me "inspite of" and not "because of"
and there was you.
I wished for someone who would support me in all my endeavors,
and there was you.
I wished for someone I can share my life with,
and there was you.
I wished for someone i cannot even think of living without
and that is YOU. ;)

[niniane]

The Highwayman

PART I

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding --
Riding -- riding --
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness; his face like moldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say --

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.

PART II

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gipsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching --
Marching -- marching --
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the muzzle beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say --
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing: she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain.

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him -- with her death.

He turned; he spurred to the Westward; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her won red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew gray to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him, and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding--
Riding-- riding--
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all his locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

ALFRED NOYES

[Idiosyncratic]

Stick Boy and Match Girl in Love
Tim Burton

Stick Boy liked Match Girl,
he liked her a lot.
He liked her cute figure,
he thought she was hot.

But could a flame ever burn
for a match and a stick?
It did quite literally;
he burned up pretty quick.

[Idiosyncratic]

Voodoo Girl
Tim Burton

Her skin is white cloth,
and she's all sewn apart
and she has many colored pins
sticking out of her heart.

She has a bequtiful set
of hypno-disk eyes,
the ones that she uses
to hypnotize guys.

She has many different zombies
who are deeply in her trance.
She even has a zombie
who was originally from France.

But she knows she has a curse on her,
a curse she cannot win.
For if someone gets
too close to her,

the pins stick farther in.

[raven23]

Originally posted by Idiosyncratic
Voodoo Girl
Tim Burton

[snipped]

But she knows she has a curse on her,
a curse she cannot win.
For if someone gets
too close to her,

the pins stick farther in. I love this poem! :)

[Muiggz_17]

Ello!
pwede b maki gulo?!
pwede b mag post ng sarili mong
poem?
:rolleyes:

[syriadee]

I've read this poetry book by Tim Burton, really dark but witty poems. Medyo twisted and morbid lang talaga pero nakakatuwang basahin. It is refreshing in a horrible kind of way :p

[Xtinger]

Originally posted by Angeli
will o' the wisp ito na po request nyo...

~TONIGHT I CAN WRITE~

Tonight I can write the saddest lines
Write for example the night is starry
And the stars are blue and shiver in the distance
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight i can write the saddest lines
I loved her and sometimes she loved me too
Through nights like this one i held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes i loved her too
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight i can write the saddest lines
To think that i do not have her, to feel that i have lost her
to hear the immense night, still more immense without her
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to a pasture.
What does it matter that my love cannot keep her
The night is starry and she is not with me
That is all. In the distance someone is singing in the distance
My soul is not satisfied that it has to lose her.
My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer
My heart looks for her and she is not with me
The same night whitening the same trees
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how i loved her
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe i loved her
Love is short. Forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one, I held her in my arms
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last plan that she makes me suffer
And this be the last verses that i write for her.

~i'm not too sure about the separation of the lines. but i hope you enjoy this poem as i have. napaiyak ako nito!

[This message has been edited by Angeli (edited 04-02-2000).]

:cool: :cool: :cool:
Angeli!!! this Neruda Poem is also my favorite

[Xtinger]

Originally posted by frenzy
ODE TO SEA


Here, surrounding the island,
there’s sea,
but what sea:
it’s always
overflowing,
says yes then no,
says yes in blue,
in sea spray, raging,
says no and no again.
It can’t be still:
it stammers “My name is Sea,”
it slaps the rocks
and when they aren’t convinced
strokes them and soaks them
and smothers them with kisses
with seven green tongues
of seven green dogs
or seven green tigers
or seven green seas,
beating its chest,
stammering its name.
O sea, this is your name,
O comrade ocean:
don’t waste your time or water
getting so upset:
help us instead.

We’re meager
fishermen,
men from the shore.
We’re hungry and cold
and you’re our foe.
Don’t beat so hard,
don’t shout so loud:
open your green coffers,
place
gifts of silver
in our hands;
give us this day our daily fish.

It’s what
we all want.
Though made of silver,
glass and moonlight,
it was meant for
the poorest kitchens.
Don’t hoard it
greedily
speeding cold
like wet lightning
below your waves.
Come to us now,
open up,
leave it
within reach.
Help us, ocean,
father deep and green,
help us put at an end
to the world’s poverty.
Let us
harvest boundless
crops of your lives,
your wheat and grapes,
oxen and ores,
your wet splendour
and submerged fruits.

We know your name,
father sea: seagulls
shriek it over the sands.
So shape up:
don’t toss your mane,
don’t give us trouble,
don’t break your lovely teeth
trying to topple the sky.
Set the grand stories
aside from now,
give us our daily fish,
big or little as you wish,
one for every man,
woman
and child.
Prowl the streets
of this wide world
doling out your fish,
now
shouting
shouting
for all to hear,
all the working poor
gathered at the mouth
of the mine
saying:
“Here’s old man sea
doling out his fish.”
Then they’ll return
smiling
to the darkness: streets
and forests
will be full of smiling people.
The earth
will wear a sea-blue smile.

But
if you’re against it,
if it’s not to your taste,
wait,
wait for us.
We’ll think it over,
we’ll put the affairs
of mankind
in order,
big things first
then all the rest.
And
we’ll wade in
slicing your waves
with knives of fire.
We’ll mount your crests
on electric steeds.
We’ll plunge
singing
to the center
of your being.
Atomic threads
will wrap your waist.
We’ll dig
plants of steel and cement
in your deep garden.
We’ll tie you
hand and foot.
People will spit casually,
gliding, on your skin.
They’ll pull flowers from your side.
They’ll fashion a harness,
mount and break you
and take over your soul,
But this will only happen if
we
solve
our problem,
our
greatest problem.
We’ll take it
little by little:
we will make you, sea
and earth, we will make you
perform miracles,
because inside us,
inside our struggle,
is our daily bread, our fish
and our miracle.





(From “Love: Ten Poems by Pablo Neruda”)





*pexadik*

FYI: The Ode to the sea and the Ode to the Beautiful Nude
was featured in the movie "Il Postino" starring Pablo Neruda himself...

FYI2: My filipino High School teacher was commissioned by the Cuban Government to translate the Neruda Poems in Filipino.
My teacher is Mr. Mike Coroza, the one who won first place in Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards -"TULA" category

[Xtinger]

Originally posted by Bostsip
THE EMPEROR'S NEW SONNET




By J.G. Villa


heheheh.... inspired by the poem
balak naming gumawa ng play
"The Emperor's New Play"

Simple lang ang script, yung audience ang aarte

[taraysa]

Originally posted by trish1201
IF THOU MUST LOVE ME

if thou must love me, let it be for naught
except for love's sake only. do not say
i love her for her smile, her look, her way--
of speaking gently, for a trick of thought
that falls in well with mine, and certes brought
a sense of pleasant ease on such a day
that these things in themselves, beloved, may
be changed, and changed for thee, and love, so wrought
may be unwrought so. neither love me for
thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry
but love me for love's sake, that evermore
thou may'st love on, through love's eternity

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning
pinag-aralan namin yan in 3rd or 4th year high school--i really dont remember exactly. pero nagustuhan ko nga agad, so na memorize ko in about an hour or so after reading it!

hey trish1201

i love this poem too. you missed a couple of lines though Ü

...neither love me for
thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry
a creature might forget to weep, who bore thy comfort long
and lose thy love thereby!
but love me for love's sake, that evermore
thou mayest love on, through love's eternity.

Ü

and it should be "for these things in themselves beloved..." and not "that". Ü

[syriadee]

Originally posted by Xtinger

FYI2: My filipino High School teacher was commissioned by the Cuban Government to translate the Neruda Poems in Filipino.
My teacher is Mr. Mike Coroza, the one who won first place in Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards -"TULA" category

I like Mike Coroza. He's cool. Met him at LIRA sa UST. Tapos ang galing nyang kumanta ng kundiman :handsdown: AAhhhhh... kaka-inlove! :luvluv:

[sea sprite]

The Rainy Day
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust more dead leaves fall,.
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold and dark and dreary.
It rains and the wind is never weary.
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past.
And youth's fond hopes fall thick in the blast.
And my life is dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart and cease repining
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining
Thy fate is the common fate of all
Into each life some rain must fall
Some days must be dark and dreary.

[sea sprite]

Variations on the Word Love
by Margaret Atwood

This is a word we use to plug
holes with. It's the right size for those warm
blanks in speech, for those red heart-
shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing
like real hearts. Add lace
and you can sell
it. We insert it also in the one empty
space on the printed form
that comes with no instructions. There are whole
magazines with not much in them
but the word love, you can
rub it all over your body and you
can cook with it too. How do we know
it isn't what goes on at the cool
debaucheries of slugs under damp
pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-
seedlings nosing their tough snouts up
among the lettuces, they shout it.
Love! Love! sing the soldiers, raising
their glittering knives in salute.


Then there's the two
of us. This word
is far too short for us, it has only
four letters, too sparse
to fill those deep bare
vacuums between the stars
that press on us with their deafness.
It's not love we don't wish
to fall into, but that fear.
This word is not enough but it will
have to do. It's a single
vowel in this metallic
silence, a mouth that says
O again and again in wonder
and pain, a breath, a finger
grip on a cliffside. You can
hold on or let go.

[sea sprite]

Sonnet II
by Edna St. Vincent-Millay

TIME does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide!

There are a hundred places where I fear
To go, -- so with his memory they brim!
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, "There is no memory of him here!"
And so stand stricken, so remembering him!


:(

[This is God]

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
by T.S. Eliot

S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero,
Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread about the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets like follow like a tedious argument
of insidious intent
To lead you to ask an overwhelming question...
Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?'
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go,
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time for yet a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, 'Do I dare?' and, 'Do I dare?'
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair -
(They will say: 'How his hair is growing thin!')
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin -
(They will say: 'But how his arms and legs are thin!')
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all -
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all -
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all -
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shwal.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ...

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should , after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet - and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all' -
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: 'That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.'

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor -
And this, and so much more? -
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window should say:
'That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.'
. . . . .

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous -
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old ... I grow old ...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
i have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seent hem riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

[syriadee]

Originally posted by This is God
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
by T.S. Eliot


I love this poem. I love this poet.

[AGP]

This was read in the Film Four Weddings and a Funeral.

It was included in the 1976 Anthology of Love Poems under the title Funeral Blues.

Song IX
By W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead.
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

[Idiosyncratic]

- Zen Cage
Michael Horovitz

& then I stop thinking
winking & blinking
& realise
there's always more
than meets the eyese -

& I know I don't know
I'll never
really know
any more than the Japanese monk
sunk in dowbt whose meditations
only go to show 'Now
that I'm enlightened
I'm just as miserable
as ever'
So I try with a sigh
to throw my self out
lay by thye book
listen & look
to what things are like
How Hight is
a Chinaman!
How nowabout the one
who said How
all Chinamen
are liars?
How he
was one how
I'd ask him
how he was &
how he
might reply

Because -

[This is God]

Originally posted by syriadee


I love this poem. I love this poet.

[angel_princess]

My ultimate favourite has already been posted (Lord Byron - When We Two Parted). But this has to be a close second. Allow me to introduce you to:


Stop All The Clocks, Cut Off The Telephone

W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

[bluemaroon27]

If You Want


We could go out if you want, to dinner or a movie, or both if it’ll make you happy
And when we’re done, we can pause and gaze at the stars, and for each one we see
I would bring up at least ten things that make you wonderful. So if you want, we can stay together through college,
And experience each achievement and failure together.
And any wisdom I receive from the most enlightening class would mean exactly nothing until I can share it with you.
If you want, we could get married afterwards, merging our souls with the infinite.
We’d honeymoon on the Riviera, and if you get bored we could venture
Through the Arctic or even trek through the moon if it would make you happy.
We’d buy a high ranch Tudor style dwelling just like you dreamed of as a little girl, And we’d give rise to three children who will accompany us to the ends of the earth.
And everyday, I would make sure to wake up earlier than you,
Just so I could spend ten minutes admiring your beauty.
When you do wake up, you’d find several conspicuously placed post-it notes, whose solitary reason for being is to reaffirm my undying devotion.
And later on in life, when the days become more valuable,
And the children have all moved on, and you’re downhearted
Because you’re not as young as you feel. When this happens,
I will be there to take you back to every place in this world that ever made you happy.
And in the end, when all that is left is waiting for a valediction to supplement this life,
I will remain by your side through all that is left, for as much or as little,
Until the very end and then beyond. Or, if you want, we could just be friends.

[veruca]

Love Poem with a Toast

Some of what we do, we do
to make things happen,
the alarm to wake us up, the coffee to perc,
the car to start.

The rest of what we do, we do
trying to keep something from doing something,
the skin from aging, the hoe from rusting,
the truth from getting out.

With yes and no like the poles of a battery
powering our passage through the days,
we move, as we call it, forward,
wanting to be wanted,
wanting not to lose the rain forest,
wanting the water to boil,
wanting not to have cancer,
wanting to be home by dark,
wanting not to run out of gas,

as each of us wants the other
watching at the end,
as both want not to leave the other alone,
as wanting to love beyond this meat and bone,
we gaze across breakfast and pretend.


-Miller Williams

[veruca]

Sa mga umaga
Jose F. Lacaba

Sa mga umagang itinatanghali ako ng gising,
inaabrasador ko ang iyong unan,
at marahang pinaplantsa ng bukas kong palad
ang gusot sa kama na iniwan ng iyong katawan,
at pagkatapos ay iginuguhit
ng isang daliri sa kama
ang memoryadong balangkas at hugis
ng iyong balikat, at baywang, at balakang.

Sa mga umagang itinatanghali ako ng gising,
mananatili ako sa kama, ninanamnam
ang gunita ng mga gabing nagdaan:
maaaring inunan mo ang aking dibdib,
dito, sa pagitan ng puso at kanang braso,
at nalanghap ko ang samyo
ng iyong buhok,
at maaring inalis ko ang ilang hibla
na pumasok sa aking bibig,
kumiliti sa aking mga mata,
at maaaring hinaplos ko ang iyong buhok,
ang napakakinis mong buhok na tuwing umaga
nilalagyan mo ng langis ng niyog.

Sa mga umagang tinatanghali ako ng gising,
hinuhulaan ko kung saan ka naroroon:
maaaring sa likod-bakuran, winawalis
ang tuyong dahon ng makopa; o maaaring
sa kalsada, naglalakad nang mabilis,
hinahabol ang araw, nagpapapawis,
paminsan-minsa'y humihinto para magbunot
ng pansit-pansitan sa gilid ng daan;
o maaaring nakarating na ng bahay
at matiyagang nililinis ang pansit-pansitan,
tintanggalan ng ugat, inaalisan ng lupa,
bago pakuluan ang dahon at tangkay.

Tiyak na pagtayo ko'y isusumbat mo sa akin,
habang hinihigop mo ang sabaw ng pansit-pansitan,
na marami ka nang nagawa
- nakapaglaba, nakapaglinis, nakapagsaing -
habang ako'y nag-iinin sa higaan.
Subalit ang mga gunita ng mga gabing matalik
ay mga gunitang sumasalag sa anumang sumbat.
Huwang kang magagalit kung hindi ko
inaalintala ang sumbat
sa mga umagang itinanghali ako ng gising.

[BlueSophia]

post your favorite poems or poets

[season]

nature's first green is gold
her hardest hue to hold
her early leaf's a flow'r
but only so an hour
then leaf subsides to leaf
eden sank to grief
so dawn goes down today
nothing gold can stay

[BlueSophia]

This is Just to Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold


William Carlos Williams

[rains_delight]

The Road Not Taken by Robert frost

[austin_lyndon]

I forgot their titles but I like the poem by a tree by Joyce Kilmer wherein the last line says:

Poems are made by fools like me but only God can make a tree.

and also a certain poem by Robert Frost which ends with:

And miles to go before I sleep and miles to go before I sleep.

Indeed sometimes the last lines show how beautiful the poems are. :smokin:

[neptune]

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful; Nooses give;
Gas smells awful; You might as well live--resume by dorothy parker

[juve_grrrl10]

i love Dorothy Parker too :)

On Being a Woman

Why is it, when I am in Rome
I'd give an eye to be at home,
But when on native earth I be,
My soul is sick for Italy?

And why with you, my love, my lord,
Am I spectacularly bored,
Yet do you up and leave me--then
I scream to have you back again?

[horned_01]

i adore e.e cummings.......

[ayamanika]

Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble, it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and every- where life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the council of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive him to be. And whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.