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Danilo_G
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Randy D
Discussion » Questions » Arts » What's your favorite poem?

What's your favorite poem?

Posted - June 20, 2020

Responses


  • 52903

    There once was a man from Nantucket . . . 


    ~

      June 20, 2020 8:47 AM MDT
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  • .

    7268
    I have to ask my daughter, she used to read it to me.  Something about a woman who goes to her lover in a cave, maybe by the sea.  It was beautifully written but I can never remember the name.  I enjoy her reading poetry to me because she does it as if she wrote the poem herself, with such depth and feeling.  Wow, such good memories.  Once we were driving from LA to San Francisco and she read to me all the way.  We both love poetry but she is a natural and has written some wonderful pieces herself.
      June 20, 2020 9:02 AM MDT
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  • 52903
    I wonder if it’s Edgar Allen Poe’s “Annabelle Lee”?
      June 20, 2020 9:28 AM MDT
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  • 7268
    I like that one a lot as well.  
      June 20, 2020 8:43 PM MDT
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  • 10029

    Robert Frost
      June 20, 2020 9:06 AM MDT
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  • 7407
    I don’t have one, poetry is annoying. 
      June 20, 2020 10:09 AM MDT
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  • 10449
    Ah but I wrote you a poem - Roses are red and violets are blue but now that #CanadianGangsta has a tree doctor  what will Randy do? Cheers and happy weekend!
      June 20, 2020 12:11 PM MDT
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  • 7407
    Lol :) okay, I like this poem :) 
      June 20, 2020 2:32 PM MDT
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  • 52903
      June 20, 2020 2:46 PM MDT
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  • 29
      June 20, 2020 12:00 PM MDT
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  • 1340
    I'm sure it would be from William Wordsworth or Percy Shelley. Lines Written a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, possibly.
      June 20, 2020 12:48 PM MDT
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  • 22853
    I looked it up because you named it. I am unfamiliar with that poem and I read it.
    I probably miss much of its meaning but it seems very subtly powerful in meaning. And its subtlety is its power.

    I was immediately drawn to Wordsworth's use of the words "the light of setting suns" - - my favorite part of the day. :) I like how he used those words instead of "the light of rising suns" -- perhaps a seemingly more obvious choice, in regards to how so many people adore the rising of the sun, and equate with the sun rising, "hope." I find hope in the unassuming quietness of the setting sun. :)

    And I was unsure if his mention of "dear Sister" is an actual person or something else.
    I really liked reading the poem. After just one reading, it's staying with me even as I write.
      June 20, 2020 1:13 PM MDT
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  • 1340
    Subtlety and setting sun, you're spot on ;) The manner in which Wordsworth finds those ways to express himself are so well-suited yet simple, especially considering preceding poetry from the 18th century, and that's why I like your choice of Poe's "The Bells" too.

    The "dear sister" would be (/could be) Dorothy Wordsworth, who lived with William. She kept a journal of their many travels. So Tintern Abbey brings together William's experiences in the past (visiting the location five years prior), comparing different stages of his life, and a look into the future via his younger sister and what things might mean to her. It feels like such a "total" poem, touching upon all fundamental aspects of human existence, and this in no complicated or long-winded way. While direct and brief, also far-reaching and beautiful. (Much like you, one might say!)
      June 21, 2020 4:32 AM MDT
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  • 22853
    Hey, thanks, Danilo G! I am humbled as always with your kindness. And I'm glad you liked my poem choice, too. :)

    And I did better with my interpretation of Wordsworth's poem than I thought I did -- your take on his poem was close to what I was thinking, though you expressed it better than I did. :)
      June 21, 2020 4:12 PM MDT
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  • 22853

    Perhaps my choice would be Edgar Allen Poe's "The Bells."

    That poem is the only poem I have ever chose to read aloud in front of people. When I was about 14 years old, in school. our teacher asked everyone to choose their favorite poem and read it aloud in front of the class.
    I chose that poem and the teacher allowed me to leave the room for bit to prepare -- because I had brought a costume and some make up to dress up as Poe.

    I just now reread the poem - - my, what a morbid guy I was at that age! Ha! :)

    I still like how the poem builds to its ending. :)
      June 20, 2020 1:17 PM MDT
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  • 52903

     

      It wasn’t until I read your answer and then clicked ‘Like’ that a reminder buzzer sounded in my head:
    Since I was very young and heard it for the first time, probably before age 10, I have been absolutely fascinated with Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven”.  I don’t know why instead of my smart aleck answer to the question I did not put this one. Wait, yes I do know. I have convinced myself that I am not a fan of poetry, ironic as that is, seeing that my mother is a poet. So just like country music and blondes, I need to phrase it more accurately by saying that I’m not a fan of most of it, but that there are a few certain exceptions, a few certain selections that I like very much. 

    ~

      June 20, 2020 2:53 PM MDT
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  • 22853
    I can completely relate, even on country music. A genre I don't like so well - - or, at least, I thought so. Then I remembered . . . Bobbie Gentry . .  . Patsy Cline . . . Dwight Yoakam  . . . The Pointer Sisters' "Fairytale" song. Those are my exceptions, off the top of my head of country I adore.
    :)

    I like Poe's "The Raven, too! I'm going post his "The Bells."
    :)



    I.

    HEAR the sledges with the bells —

    Silver bells!

    What a world of merriment their melody foretells!

    How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,

    In the icy air of night!

    While the stars that oversprinkle

    All the heavens, seem to twinkle

    With a crystalline delight;

    Keeping time, time, time,

    In a sort of Runic rhyme,

    To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells

    From the bells, bells, bells, bells,

    Bells, bells, bells —

    From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

    II.

    Hear the mellow wedding-bells

    Golden bells!

    What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!

    Through the balmy air of night

    How they ring out their delight! —

    From the molten-golden notes,

    And all in tune,

    What a liquid ditty floats

    To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats

    On the moon!

    Oh, from out the sounding cells,

    What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!

    How it swells!

    How it dwells

    On the Future! — how it tells

    Of the rapture that impels

    To the swinging and the ringing

    Of the bells, bells, bells —

    Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

    Bells, bells, bells —

    To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

    III.

    Hear the loud alarum bells —

    Brazen bells!

    What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!

    In the startled ear of night

    How they scream out their affright!

    Too much horrified to speak,

    They can only shriek, shriek,

    Out of tune,

    In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,

    In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,

    Leaping higher, higher, higher,

    With a desperate desire,

    And a resolute endeavor

    Now — now to sit, or never,

    By the side of the pale-faced moon.

    Oh, the bells, bells, bells!

    What a tale their terror tells

    Of Despair! [column 2:]

    How they clang, and clash, and roar!

    What a horror they outpour

    On the bosom of the palpitating air!

    Yet the ear, it fully knows,

    By the twanging

    And the clanging,

    How the danger ebbs and flows;

    Yet [[Yes]], the ear distinctly tells,

    In the jangling

    And the wrangling,

    How the danger sinks and swells,

    By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells —

    Of the bells —

    Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

    Bells, bells, bells —

    In the clamour and the clangour of the bells!

    IV.

    Hear the tolling of the bells —

    Iron bells!

    What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!

    In the silence of the night,

    How we shiver with affright

    At the melancholy menace of their tone!

    For every sound that floats

    From the rust within their throats

    Is a groan.

    And the people — ah, the people —

    They that dwell up in the steeple,

    All alone,

    And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,

    In that muffled monotone,

    Feel a glory in so rolling

    On the human heart a stone —

    They are neither man nor woman —

    They are neither brute nor human —

    They are Ghouls: —

    And their king it is who tolls: —

    And he rolls, rolls, rolls, rolls,

    Rolls

    A pæan from the bells!

    And his merry bosom swells

    With the pæan of the bells!

    And he dances, and he yells;

    Keeping time, time, time,

    In a sort of Runic rhyme,

    To the pæan of the bells —

    Of the bells: —

    Keeping time, time, time,

    In a sort of Runic rhyme,

    To the throbbing of the bells —

    Of the bells, bells, bells —

    To the sobbing of the bells: —

    Keeping time, time, time,

    As he knells, knells, knells,

    In a happy Runic rhyme,

    To the rolling of the bells —

    Of the bells, bells, bells: —

    To the tolling of the bells —

    Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

    Bells, bells, bells —

    To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.



    This post was edited by WelbyQuentin at June 21, 2020 4:02 AM MDT
      June 20, 2020 7:36 PM MDT
    4

  • 22891
    dont know of any right now
      June 20, 2020 3:32 PM MDT
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  • 44173
    I don't know of any.
      June 20, 2020 5:12 PM MDT
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  • 5808
    Life is a gas
    and so it must pass...
    The body won't last,
    and one day will
    be in the past,
    So find your Self
    Bliss at best
    end your stress,
    and your life
    will certainly be,
                              

    Brain tired
    You got the last line?

      June 20, 2020 5:55 PM MDT
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  • 22853


    so . . .  be.









    This post was edited by WelbyQuentin at June 21, 2020 6:05 AM MDT
      June 20, 2020 7:38 PM MDT
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  • 7407
    I guess the person who asked this question didn’t like any of these poems...... 
      June 21, 2020 6:08 AM MDT
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  • 6988
    Gimme 'Flanders Fields'  by Joyce Kilmer.  Yeah, Joyce was a guy. So he writes a poem about the dead soldiers in France, and ironically, is later killed in the war. 
      June 21, 2020 6:48 AM MDT
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  • 182
    Could you be thinking of 'In Flanders Fields' by John McCrea, the Canadian medical man, who was also killed in the war?
      August 21, 2020 11:47 AM MDT
    0