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    • Thread Starter

    What is the best poem you have either wrote or came across?

    ⁂ An unanswered thread

    ⁂ Poetry is a powerful tool

    ⁂ Perhaps this will help gain exposure

    TheOtherSide. :teehee:

    Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
    As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
    That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend

    Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
    I, like an usurp'd town to another due,
    Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;
    Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,

    But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.
    Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
    But am betroth'd unto your enemy;

    Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
    Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
    Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
    Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

    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.

    (Original post by homeland.lsw)
    TheOtherSide. :teehee:
    You think I'd want to share them with the rest of the world? :lol:

    (Original post by TheOtherSide.)
    You think I'd want to share them with the rest of the world? :lol:

    The Dangling Conversation Lyrics
    It's a still life water cooler, Of a now late afternoon,
    As the sun shines through the curtained lace
    And shadows wash the room.
    And we sit and drink our coffee
    Couched in our indifference,
    Like shells upon the shore
    You can hear the ocean roar
    In The Dangling Conversation
    nAnd the superficial sighs,
    The borders of our lives.

    And you read your Emily Dickinson,And I my Robert Frost,
    And we note our place with bookmarkersThat measure what we've lost.
    Like a poem poorly writtenWe are verses out of rhythm,
    Couplets out of rhyme,In syncopated time
    And The Dangling ConversationAnd the superficial sighs
    Are the borders of our lives.



    O Athena, grey-eyed tactician and confidante of heroes unnumbered,
    Whose blazing aegis graces the shields of the victorious,
    Who anoints the haunted with blessed sleep,
    Champion of reason, unseen architect of wills.

    O Athena, whose designs never leave her, whose lot is to ponder,
    Plagued by strategies, trapped in the role of deceiver,
    Consumed by duplicity, eternally disguised.

    O Pallas Athena, most lonely of the immortals,
    Thankless and friendless benefactor, yearner for companions;
    Even Artemis has her hounds, her hunt, and the moon,
    Even fell Persephone grew inured to her husband’s grim domain,
    But you have nothing and no one. You alone take no lovers,
    For such things are never wise.

    (Original post by scnotcrazy)
    What is the best poem you have either wrote or came across?

    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.

    Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953 :cry2:
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