poetry (you didn't write) that rocks your world.

[sandsleeper]

post and discuss yer favorite poems (not by you) here.

This is from Jane Kenyon's book, 'Otherwise', which she wrote while dying of cancer in 1995.

MAN EATING
by Jane Kenyon

The man at the table across from mine
is eating yogurt. His eyes, following
the progress of the spoon, cross briefly
each time it nears his face. Time,

and the world with all its principalities,
might come to an end as prophesied
by the Apostle John, but what about
this man, so completely present

to the little carton with its cool,
sweet food, which has caused no animal
to suffer, and which he is eating
with a pearl-white plastic spoon.

[sandsleeper]

another one of kenyon's:

Man Waking
Jane Kenyon
The room was already light when
he awoke, and his body curled
like a grub suddenly exposed
when something dislodges a stone.
Work. He was more than an hour
late. Let that pass, he thought.
He pulled the covers over his head.
The smell of his skin and hair
offended him. Now he drew his legs
up a little more, and sent
his forehead down to meet his knees.
His knees felt cool.
A surprising amount of light
came thought the blanket. He could
easily see his hand. Not dark enough,
not the utter darkness he desired.

i love the last four lines of this one.

[Joey]

One of my favorite poems

"Annabel Lee" by Edgar Allan 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 highborn kinsmen 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 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 lay down by the side
Of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

[Dr. Hobo]

Edgar Allen Poe is one of my fave poets of all time

[happening fish]

William Wordsworth. I adore him. Here's a bit of "Lines Written In Early Spring":

To her fair words did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man


Alexander Pope, "Essay On Man":

Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
Man never is, but always to be blest;
The sould, uneasy and confined from home
Rests and expatiates in a life to come


T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men":

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


And, finally, the first verse of a gorgeous poem by an extroardinary poet. Translated into English from Romanian (the translation is excellent) Mihai Eminescu, "A Dacian's Prayer":

When death did not exist, nor yet eternity,
Before the seed of life had first set living free,
When yesterday was nothing, and time had not begun,
When one included all things, and all was less than one,
When sun and moon and sky, the stars, the spinning Earth,
Were still part of the things that had not come to birth,
And you quite lonely stood... I ask myself with awe,
Who is this mighty God we bow ourselves before?


Goodness I wish I could write like that

[One-Eye]

When you’re away, I’m restless, lonely
Wretched, bored, dejected, only
Here’s the rub, my darling dear,
I feel the same when you are near.

Samuel Hoffenstein

[emily]

Are you sure it's Mihai, Alex? Cuz my dad lived in a village called Mihalyfalva, but that's the Hungarian spelling of it. That might be the Romanian spelling, but Mihaly is pronounced "me high." I'm pretty sure Mihaly translates to Max or Maximilian.

[happening fish]

Yep it's Mihai for sure, and it's pronounced like you said. There are probably a couple different ways of spelling it. The Romanians tend to get really creative with their name-spelling... I have a cousin named Andreeia

[emily]

is your whole family Romanian? or just one side?

[happening fish]

mom's side. familia tatului yeste greceste. oh, you don't speak romanian... i forgot....

[emily]

ohhh coo

[I AM ME]

mmmmm Edgar Allen Poe is deliciously depressing!

i love him, and i just relized after reading Annabel Lee i relized it would make a great song, not that most poetry wouldn't but as i read it i thought of it as a song

[happening fish]

Hark, my favourite poem of all time

High Flight - John Gillespie MacGee, Jr.

Oh! I've slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sunsplit clouds, and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of; wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air

Up, up, the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, nor even eagle flew
And while with lifiting mind I've trod
The high, untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.


Some of the punctuation might be erroneous since that was from memory. But it's so beautiful...

[sandsleeper]

wow. that really is beautiful.


here's an e.e. cummings one i'm pretty fond of:

'Me up at does'
e.e. cummings

Me up at does

out of the floor
quietly Stare

a poisoned mouse

still who alive

is asking What
have i done that

You wouldn't have



i love the way you can interpret cummings' poems in so many different ways by just rearranging the words.

i espcially like that last line: "what have i done that you wouldn't have"

[happening fish]

i looove e.e. cummings that's a superb piece of poetry.

[happening fish]

Out of the floor
does a poisoned mouse
who is still alive
quietly stare up at me
Asking "what have I done
That you wouldn't have?"


Excellent.

[sandsleeper]

or it could be:

does a poisoned mouse
quietly stare up at me
who still alive
is asking out of the floor
'what have i done that you wouldn't have?'

although that could be a stretch, but still, you can get so many different things out of it.

[happening fish]

Exactly. Sa beaute est etonnent.

[sandsleeper]

yeah... so i need a poem to analyze in a critical perspectives essay. any suggestions?

[sandsleeper]

oo nevermind... i stumbled upon a nice little walt whitman deal in the almighty diyanni book.