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ForumsDiscussion Forum → Post Your Favorite Poem...
Post Your Favorite Poem...
2004-04-06, 12:17 PM #1
...be it your own or by another author. Here's one of my favorite.

The Beefburger - By Ogden Nash

In mortal combat I am joined
With monstrous words wherever coined
"Beefburger" is a term worth hating,
Both fraudulent and infuriating,
Contrived to foster the belief
That only beefburgers are made of beef
Implying with shoddy flim and flam
That hamburgers are made of ham


------------------
Fear, It Controls The Fearful. The Strong. The Weak. The Innocent. Fear Is My Ally!

The Arcane Sith
2004-04-06, 12:19 PM #2
Directions - SAJ..errrm Robert Frost...no umm...That famous dead guy..yeah him.

Up, down, all around
Left, right, out of sight
Here, there, everywhere
Follow This, Copy that
Wipe your feet on the mat
Clean your plate, take out the trash
Eat your eggs, finish your hash
Sweep the floor, Take off your hat
Do us a favor and clean the cat
Vacuum the rugs, Buy my CD
After that you may break for tea
Join a band, then write a song
Do your math, but don’t get it wrong
Go to school and get good grades
Drive to church, then sit and pray
Another break, this ones an hour
Then make your bed and take a shower
Now call your uncle on the phone
Thank him for that gift from Rome
Fix the light, and start the grills
Mow the lawn, de-weed the hills
Record my shows, take my calls
Get my groceries at the malls
Shine my lamps, read a book
Paint a picture, learn to cook
Design a building, wire a car
Get some money and open a bar
Well…Today has ended… what a pity
And yet the house still looks gritty
The sun has set but soon will hatch
Tomorrow I guess we’ll start from scratch


------------------
I’m not going to die, I’m going to see if I was ever alive. - Spike
It's not your right to decide whether they live or die. They deserve a chance! - Vash
BABIES EVERYWHERE!!!
Think while it's still legal.
2004-04-06, 12:24 PM #3
With this lack of mules..
We always seem to forget
That Fishstickz Rules

------------------
"Just remember -- No matter how bad things get, Northern Minnesota will always be there"
-- Garrison Keeler
"If you watch television news, you will know less about the world than if you just drink gin straight out of the bottle."
--Garrison Keillor
2004-04-06, 12:26 PM #4
And.. the series of Fishstickz Haikus


Well isnt this great
The Fishstickz has made a haiku
Therefore, give him pie

Happydud, teh suck
Whats up with that kid anyway?
He needs a puma

Whats up with Yecti?
Aha! The answer is clear!
Colonoscopy

------------------
"Just remember -- No matter how bad things get, Northern Minnesota will always be there"
-- Garrison Keeler
"If you watch television news, you will know less about the world than if you just drink gin straight out of the bottle."
--Garrison Keillor
2004-04-06, 12:30 PM #5
The Constant Lover - Sir John Suckling

OUT upon it, I have loved
Three whole days together!
And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather.

Time shall moult away his wings
Ere he shall discover
In the whole wide world again
Such a constant lover.

But the spite on 't is, no praise
Is due at all to me:
Love with me had made no stays,
Had it any been but she.

Had it any been but she,
And that very face,
There had been at least ere this
A dozen dozen in her place.

------------------
"Why aren't I'm using at these pictures?" - Cloud, 4/14/02
If you think the waiters are rude, you should see the manager.
2004-04-06, 1:00 PM #6
VERY LIKE A WHALE
-Ogden Nash

------------------------------------------
One thing that literature would be greatly the better for

Would be a more restricted employment by the authors of simile and
metaphor.

Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons or Celts,

Can't seem just to say that anything is the thing it is but have to
go out of their way to say that it is like something else.

What does it mean when we are told

That that Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold?

In the first place, George Gordon Byron had enough experience

To know that it probably wasn't just one Assyrian, it was a lot of
Assyrians.

However, as too many arguments are apt to induce apoplexy and
thus hinder longevity.

We'll let it pass as one Assyrian for the sake of brevity.

Now then, this particular Assyrian, the one whose cohorts were
gleaming in purple and gold,

Just what does the poet mean when he says he came down like a
wold on the fold?

In heaven and earth more than is dreamed of in our philosophy
there are great many things.

But I don't imagine that among them there is a wolf with purple
and gold cohorts or purple and gold anythings.

No, no, Lord Byron, before I'll believe that this Assyrian was
actually like a wolf I must have some
kind of proof;

Did he run on all fours and did he have a hairy tail and a big red
mouth and big white teeth and did he say

Woof Woof?

Frankly I think it is very unlikely, and all you were entitled to say,
at the very most,

Was that the Assyrian cohorts came down like a lot of Assyrian
cohorts about to destroy the Hebrew host.

But that wasn't fancy enough for Lord Byron, oh dear me no, he
had to invent a lot of figures of speech and then interpolate them,

With the result that whenever you mention
Old Testament soldiers
to people they say Oh yes, they're the ones that a lot of wolves dressed up in gold and purple ate them.

That's the kind of thing that's being done all the time by poets, from Homer to Tennyson;

They're always comparing ladies to lilies and veal to venison,

And they always say things like that the snow is a white blanket after a winter storm.

Oh it is, is it, all right then, you sleep under a six-inch blanket of snow and I'll sleep under a half-inch blanket of unpoetical blanket material and we'll see which one keeps warm,

And after that maybe you'll begin to comprehend dimly

What I mean by too much metaphor and simile.
------------------------------------------

It rhymes the whole way through!
<3 Ogden Nash [http://forums.massassi.net/html/biggrin.gif]

------------------
"With Great power comes great Responibility. Seems like the converse should be true as well. Now where the heck is my great Power?"
Ban Jin!
Nobody really needs work when you have awesome. - xhuxus
2004-04-06, 1:15 PM #7
Fire and Ice - by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire;
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.


------------------
Video games are a conduit for the soul. They expand our lives, channel our imagination, test our skillz. Games exist as a channel for the boundless energy of people all over the world. -Largo
2004-04-06, 2:07 PM #8
He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with the golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams beneath your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams...

William Butler Yeats

------------------
[teletubbie voice] BIG HUG!!!! [/teletubbie voice]
[teletubbie voice] BIG HUG!!!! [/teletubbie voice]
2004-04-06, 2:36 PM #9
1633

DEATH BE NOT PROUD

(From Divine Meditations)

by John Donne

DEATH BE NOT PROUD -

Death be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,

For, those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me;

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,

And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die.

------------------
Truth is in the eye of the beholder.
Forum Rules
Little angel go away
Come again some other day
Devil has my ear today
I'll never hear a word you say
2004-04-06, 2:40 PM #10
Here is one of my poems I had to write for English class, it is one of my favorites...

Colors - By Keith Marshall

Most of the time I am white
Happy when I wake with the morning light
Like a lamp, I am so bright
Ready to take on the day with all my might.

But other days I am so red
Like a rabid wolf that hasn't been fed
Don't get in my way, I don't care what you have said
For all I want to do is go back to bed.
2004-04-06, 3:22 PM #11
I have two. Neither are mine.


The Charge of the Light Brigade
Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.


AND

SUDDEN LIGHT
by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before, -
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow's soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall, -l knew it all of yore.
Has this been thus before?
And shall not thus time's eddying flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death's despite,
And day and night yield one delight once more?

------------------
MadQuack on Military school: Pro's: I get to shoot a gun. Con's: Everything else.
"I'm going to beat you until the laws of physics are violated!!" ! Maeve's Warcry

RIP -MaDaVentor-. You will be missed.
My Parkour blog
My Twitter. Follow me!
2004-04-06, 4:16 PM #12
Quote:
<font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">Dyson spheres need great big walls
To keep the world from spilling out
They make them out of buckyballs
And use gravitons for grout</font>


http://www.nada.kth.se/~asa/dysonFAQ.html

------------------
[Blue Mink Bifocals !] [fsck -Rf /world/usr/] [<!-- kalimonster -->] [Capite Terram]
"If I said anything which implies that I think that we didn't do what we should have done given the choices we faced at the time, I shouldn't have said that." -William Jefferson Clinton
NPC.Interact::PressButton($'Submit');
Also, I can kill you with my brain.
2004-04-06, 5:02 PM #13
Untitled, by me.

Quote:
<font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">Have you ever been unable to meet someone's eyes?
You fear for the safety of your soul.
They are a painful reminder to you,
That you aren't whole.

Your eyes lock, and there's a tug at your soul.
You have to tear away.
You can't stand to the truth,
You've no idea what to say.

Your whole life, your past,
These feelings you've denied.
You can't tell them how you feel,
Because they'll know you lied.

Year after year,
Denouncing the tom-foolery of love.
You thought yourself distant and protected,
Not expecting death from above.

I'm lost now, not knowing what to do.
I see you and I feel drawn in.
My head is pulled beneath the surface,
I'm drowning.

God help me, I've no idea what to do.
I'm without direction,
Caught by surprise
By an emotional insurrection.</font>


------------------
"To believe in God means to see that the facts of the world are not the end of the matter."
"Egotist: a person more interested in himself than in me."
"And any time you got the Pope and the Dixie Chicks against you, your time is up."
the idiot is the person who follows the idiot and your not following me your insulting me your following the path of a idiot so that makes you the idiot - LC Tusken
2004-04-06, 7:19 PM #14
My taste hasn't changed much since the last time there was one of these posts [or one which I noticed... I try].

I still like T.S. Eliot, specifically Prufrock and its accompanying poems. And Howl by Allen Ginsberg is great too. All those works vary from moderately to utterly, insanely long so I won't post the whole things.

Here's an excerpt from the beginning of Howl:
Quote:
<font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">Originally written by Allen Ginsberg:
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machin-
ery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
</font>
It goes on for about 15 more pages, very dense and rich, meant to be read quickly and somewhat frantically I think. If you decide to read the whole thing, please also read Footnote to Howl. It's like an epilogue poem that reverses the entire bent of the original poem or at least changes it irreparably. The poem is pretty graphic, so be warned if you're easily offended... It isn't officially obscene, though it was brought before a court for that shortly after its original publication in the 50s.

And because I mentioned him and I'm all psyched up I have to post some of Eliot's work. Nothing long, just a short prose/poem thing called Hysteria, which I think I posted before:
Quote:
<font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">Originally written by T.S. Eliot:
As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill. I was drawn in by short gasps, inhaled at each momentary recovery, lost finally in the dark caverns of her throat, bruised by the ripple of unseen muscles. An elderly waiter with trembling hands was hurriedly spreading a pink and white checked cloth over the rusty green iron table, saying: "If the lady and gentleman wish to take their tea in the garden, if the lady and gentleman wish to take their tea in the garden..." I decided that if the shaking of her breasts could be stopped, some of the fragments of the afternoon might be collected, and I concentrated my attention with careful subtlety to this end.
</font>

I'm getting carried away, but! It's important you guys are exposed to this because the ancient rhyming poetry they teach you in school is so restrictive and one faceted... here is another poem by e.e. Cummings, the favorite poet of a friend and ex-lover of mine:
Quote:
<font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">Originally written by e.e. Cummings:
when god decided to invent
everything he took one
breath bigger than a circustent
and everything began

when man determined to destroy
himself he picked the was
of shall and finding only why
smashed it into because
</font>
e.e. Cummings also made some amazingly clever poems with unusual formatting/punctuation which would be slaughtered by the UBB code so I'll leave them alone. But check out his book No Thanks if you want to see some really original abuse of the English language.

I'll stop rambling but first I'll also suggest the following authors if you liked any of the above: Charles Bukowski, Jim Carroll, Jack Kerouac, William Carlos Williams, Utah Phillips, Dante Alligheri [graphic!], Pablo Picasso [the same, yes] and others... You're sure to have heard of Shakespeare or I'd suggest him to; the sex, the emotions, the descriptions, the insults... he was badass.

One final poem to leave you with... by Shumpo Soki [a zen master] as he lay on his death bed:
Quote:
<font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">My sword leans against the sky.
With its polished edge I will behead the Buddha
And all of his saints.
May the lightning strike where it may.
</font>
2004-04-06, 9:03 PM #15
My very favorite, The Hollow Men by TS Eliot:
Quote:
<font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">
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 rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar


Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed 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 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 kingdoms


In this 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 a whimper.
</font>


a new favorite (which I'm going to have to 'code' to get to format right) Buffalo Bill's by ee cummings
Code:
Buffalo Bill's
defunct
        who used to
        ride a watersmooth-silver
                                  stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat
                                                  Jesus

he was a handsome man
                      and what i want to know is
how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death


another old favorite, Death of a Ball-turret Gunner by Randall Jarrell
Quote:
<font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">
From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from the dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
</font>


------------------
Dark, Darker, Darko

RIP Madaventor: God bless you.
I live in the weak, and the wounded.
2004-04-06, 9:11 PM #16
There was once a man from Bombay, who carved a **** out of clay. He stuck in his prick, turned it to brick, and it chafed his foreskin away.

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