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    (Original post by katodizzle)
    I also like Sonnet 116 :grin:
    It's a wonderful poem right?
    I love the Volta at the end!
    Shakespeare being a true boss
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    I think its called havisham by CAD
    I have more but
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    (Original post by katodizzle)
    Yeah same, as throughout the poem it seems as if the speaker is saying the the grief their dad still feels isn't ideal, and is too prolonged. But then they reveal at the end that they feel the same way, which makes it so poignant.
    Agreed
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    (Original post by k.m.b)
    I think its called havisham by CAD
    I have more but
    I did that poem in English last year. It's so bitter and emotional
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    It's hard to choose a favourite poem. But one that makes me feel the most feelings is one in a foreign language, and although the translation (as good as it is) cannot get the emotions quite as well as the original, it is still a lovely poem I think. (In spoiler)
    Spoiler:
    Show
    by Vincas Mykolaitis Putinas

    The Speckledy Falcons

    The glow of the sunset was nearly to die
    When speckledy falcons flew up to the sky.
    Despising earth's dreams, too deceptive to bear,
    They spread their long wings in the currents of air.
    "We mustn't return," looking earthwards they vowed,
    "While darkness its mountains and valleys enshroud.
    We'll have now no dreams and no shadows to shun
    Upon the bright roads leading straight to the sun.
    And when we catch up with the glorious dawn
    We'll snatch a bright lily from her brilliant crown –
    The dark rocks and fields by miraculous powers
    We'll turn into sun-spangled beds of bright flowers!"
    They fluttered their wings and so onwards they flew
    Still further and higher until they were due
    To feel the hot flames of the sun on their way
    And see the bright dawn of a new promised day.

    The reddening skies in the east clothed in glow,
    The sun lit the rocks and the fields down below,
    But back from the sky, whether cloudy or clear,
    The speckledy falcons did never appear.
    Also I have a fondness for The Orange by Wendy Cope, as I think it's just such a lovely poem about happiness and love, which can be interpreted as any type of love you wish. Friends, family, partner.
    Spoiler:
    Show
    The Orange

    At lunchtime I bought a huge orange—
    The size of it made us all laugh.
    I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
    They got quarters and I got a half.

    And that orange, it made me so happy,
    As ordinary things often do
    Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
    This is peace and contentment. It's new.

    The rest of the day was quite easy.
    I did all the jobs on my list
    And enjoyed them and had some time over.
    I love you. I'm glad I exist.

    Both of the poems make me emotional if I'm in the right mood
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    I am part of a lost generation.
    And I refuse to believe that
    I can change the world.
    I realize this may be a shock, but
    “Happiness comes from within”
    Is a lie, and
    “Money will make me happy”
    So in thirty years, I will tell my children
    They are not the most important thing in my life.
    My employer will know that
    I have my priorities straight because
    Work
    Is more important than
    Family
    I tell you this:
    Once upon a time
    Families stayed together
    But this will not be true in my era.
    This is a quick fix society
    Experts tell me
    Thirty years from now, I will be celebrating the tenth anniversary of my divorce.
    I do not concede that
    I will live in a country of my own making.
    In the future,
    Environmental destruction will be the norm.
    No longer can it be said that
    My peers and I care about this Earth.
    It will be evident that
    My generation is apathetic and lethargic.
    It is foolish to presume that
    There is hope.
    And all of this will come true unless we reverse it.


    Re-read the poem starting from "There is hope" and then read the line above it, and continue upwards.
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    (Original post by childofthesun)
    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.
    Fit beautifully in Interstellar
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    who wrote this? It is amazing.

    (Original post by yoda123)
    I am part of a lost generation
    And I refuse to believe that
    I can change the world.
    I realize this may be a shock, but
    “Happiness comes from within”
    Is a lie, and
    “Money will make me happy”
    So in thirty years, I will tell my children
    They are not the most important thing in my life.
    My employer will know that
    I have my priorities straight because
    Work
    Is more important than
    Family
    I tell you this:
    Once upon a time
    Families stayed together
    But this will not be true in my era.
    This is a quick fix society
    Experts tell me
    Thirty years from now, I will be celebrating the tenth anniversary of my divorce.
    I do not concede that
    I will live in a country of my own making.
    In the future,
    Environmental destruction will be the norm.
    No longer can it be said that
    My peers and I care about this Earth.
    It will be evident that
    My generation is apathetic and lethargic.
    It is foolish to presume that
    There is hope.
    And all of this will come true unless we reverse it.


    Re-read the poem starting from "There is hope" and then read the line above it, and continue upwards.
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    Mind=blown

    Thanks Jonathan reed

    Posted from TSR Mobile
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    (Original post by niv1234)
    I did that poem in English last year. It's so bitter and emotional
    i have another one about guantanamo bay but i forgot the title
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    I absolutely love....

    Ulysses and Tithonus by Tennyson
    Ozymandias by Percy Shelley
    The Tyger by William Blake
    The Aeneid by Virgil
    Jabberwocky by Lewis Carol

    Its funny how so many people are only naming poems on the GCSE syllabus... or is it just a bit sad?
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    (Original post by DystopiaisReal)
    I absolutely love....

    Ulysses and Tithonus by Tennyson
    Ozymandias by Percy Shelley
    The Tyger by William Blake
    The Aeneid by Virgil
    Jabberwocky by Lewis Carol

    Its funny how so many people are only naming poems on the GCSE syllabus... or is it just a bit sad?
    Absolutely nothing wrong with people naming poems off GCSE syllabus. They're lovely poems, that's why they're studied. People enjoy them?
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    As I walked out one evening by W.H Auden (it's bizarre but lovely) and
    from The Prophet on Love by Khalil Gibran (bit lengthy but it's different people's perspectives on love, death and beauty and it's a beautiful poem)
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    (Original post by georginarowley)
    As I walked out one evening by W.H Auden (it's bizarre but lovely) and
    from The Prophet on Love by Khalil Gibran (bit lengthy but it's different people's perspectives on love, death and beauty and it's a beautiful poem)
    I absolutely love The Prophet. I must have read it over 100 times :lol: The Farewell is also beautiful
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    roses are blue
    violets are red
    i lube you
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    (Original post by DystopiaisReal)
    Its funny how so many people are only naming poems on the GCSE syllabus... or is it just a bit sad?
    Special Snowflake alert :lol: - Let the people enjoy what they enjoy without looking down your nose at them in an attempt to massage your ego.

    Leaving the atrocity that is literary snobbery aside...

    My favs: (I'll try and pare it down to 5, not in order 😅)

    Fragment from Sappho:
    Spoiler:
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    "The gorgeous man presents a gorgeous view;
    The good man will in time be gorgeous, too."
    "Fever 103" by my favourite poet, Sylvia Plath:
    Spoiler:
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    "Pure? What does it mean?
    The tongues of hell
    Are dull, dull as the triple

    Tongues of dull, fat Cerberus
    Who wheezes at the gate. Incapable
    Of licking clean

    The aguey tendon, the sin, the sin.
    The tinder cries.
    The indelible smell

    Of a snuffed candle!
    Love, love, the low smokes roll
    From me like Isadora’s scarves, I’m in a fright

    One scarf will catch and anchor in the wheel,
    Such yellow sullen smokes
    Make their own element.They will not rise,

    But trundle round the globe
    Choking the aged and the meek,
    The weak

    Hothouse baby in its crib,
    The ghastly orchid
    Hanging its hanging garden in the air,

    Devilish leopard!
    Radiation turned it white
    And killed it in an hour.

    Greasing the bodies of adulterers
    Like Hiroshima ash and eating in.
    The sin. The sin.

    Darling, all night
    I have been flickering, off, on, off, on.
    The sheets grow heavy as a lecher’s kiss.

    Three days. Three nights.
    Lemon water, chicken
    Water, water make me retch.

    I am too pure for you or anyone.
    Your body
    Hurts me as the world hurts God. I am a lantern——

    My head a moon
    Of Japanese paper, my gold beaten skin
    Infinitely delicate and infinitely expensive.

    Does not my heat astound you! And my light!
    All by myself I am a huge camellia
    Glowing and coming and going, flush on flush.

    I think I am going up,
    I think I may rise——
    The beads of hot metal fly, and I love, I

    Am a pure acetylene
    Virgin
    Attended by roses,

    By kisses, by cherubim,
    By whatever these pink things mean!
    Not you, nor him

    Nor him, nor him
    (My selves dissolving, old whore petticoats)——
    To Paradise."

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfgtiDvvAR8 - wonderful reading by the madame herself
    "When I am dead, my dearest" by Christina Rossetti:
    Spoiler:
    Show
    "When I am dead, my dearest,
    Sing no sad songs for me;
    Plant thou no roses at my head,
    Nor shady cypress tree:
    Be the green grass above me
    With showers and dewdrops wet;
    And if thou wilt, remember,
    And if thou wilt, forget.

    I shall not see the shadows,
    I shall not feel the rain;
    I shall not hear the nightingale
    Sing on, as if in pain:
    And dreaming through the twilight
    That doth not rise nor set,
    Haply I may remember,
    And haply may forget."
    Yeats' - "The Second Coming:"
    Spoiler:
    Show
    "Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
    The darkness drops again; but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"
    Dorothy Parker's "Indian Summer" for something more light and tongue in cheek:
    Spoiler:
    Show
    "In youth, it was a way I had
    To do my best to please,
    And change, with every passing lad,
    To suit his theories.

    But now I know the things I know,
    And do the things I do;
    And if you do not like me so,
    To hell, my love, with you!"
    EDIT: swapped Lady of Shallot for Yeats' Second Coming - and added text of Fever 103
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    If - a beautiful poem

    IF you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming 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 by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
    Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
    And yet don't look too good, nor talk too 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 build 'em up with worn-out tools:

    If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
    And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
    If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are 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 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 with 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!
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    (Original post by childofthesun)
    I absolutely love The Prophet. I must have read it over 100 times :lol: The Farewell is also beautiful
    Same, it's one I always go back to, whatever my mood. I haven't read the farewell (I'm gonna look it up now )
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    (Original post by georginarowley)
    Same, it's one I always go back to, whatever my mood. I haven't read the farewell (I'm gonna look it up now )
    My sister had extracts from 'On Love' (and other Romantic poems) printed out and placed on the tables at her wedding. It was perfect!

    I was referring to the last section of The Prophet-it's titled 'The Farewell'
 
 
 
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