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15 / M / Palatine, Illinois
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Posted 7/16/15
In the world we have many poems that have been created, you might have been forced to create your own in School.

I believe most people have a poem that has reached them at least once and I am wondering what is your all time favorite poem.

My favorite poem is 21 by Patrick Roche

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6LnMhy8kDiQ
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M / Houston, Tx
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Posted 7/16/15
That some deep stuff dude, here's mine I guess.

A Final Wish

Cremate me, please
and sprinkle my ashes,

pinch by pinch
on strippers' eyelashes.
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Posted 7/16/15
"Home-Thoughts From Abroad',Robert Browning.or The Drunken Boat by Arthur Rimbaud.
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24 / F / The moon
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Posted 7/16/15 , edited 7/19/15
That video was powerful and amazing, I really don't read poems now and I can't remember any as I have really bad memory problems, but any poem that describes love and heart warming between a grandmother and a grandchild does bring tears to my eyes. My parents weren't always there in my life.My half brother and I lived with my grandmother until she passed away. I use to spend time with my dad on the weekends, but it was never the same though. I'm glad that I had a wonderful grandmother that was always there. I have nothing against my parents, they were just teenagers.
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Posted 7/16/15 , edited 7/20/15
The old classic by Poe. The Raven.

Runner up would be a really long prose-ish type poem by Allison Benis White. Small Porcelain Head.

It's too long to post but here are some parts I really liked...

"Awaiting execution, Marie Antoinette made a wooden doll, still preserved in a museum in England.That kind of making. Carved until the mind is a doll of a woman in a wooden cell making a doll."

"Because to live is to be entered vertically and repeatedly, the pain is love and making me."
Posted 7/17/15
This poem from the anime, Chihayafuru...


"Like a boatsman adrift at the mouth of the Yura
I do not know where this love will take me"
Snumo 
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19 / M / California
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Posted 7/17/15 , edited 7/20/15
"The Tyger" by the English poet William Blake.

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

It was featured in one of the favorite TV shows of all time "The Mentalist", So I took a liking to it.
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M / Tokyo, Japan
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Posted 7/17/15
Invictus
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52 / M / Bay Area
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Posted 7/17/15
Falling Up



I tripped on my Shoelace and I fell up
Up to the roof tops
Up past the treetops
Up over the mountains
Up where the colors Blend into sounds
But it got me dizzy When I looked around
I got sick to my stomach
and I threw down



Shel Silverstein
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21 / F / in ur heart
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Posted 7/17/15
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
by Dylan Thomas



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 grieve 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.


I could cry I love this poem so much
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21 / M / Canada eh
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Posted 7/17/15
Yeah by Marshawn Lynch

"Yeah."
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52 / M / Bay Area
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Posted 7/17/15

whirlpearl wrote:

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
by Dylan Thomas



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 grieve 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.


I could cry I love this poem so much

Dylan Thomas is awesome poet crying is power of good poem in my humble opinion no matter how many times you read it

Posted 7/17/15
Desiderata by Max Ehrmann c': <3
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Posted 7/17/15
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
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17 / M / CS Colorado
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Posted 7/17/15

Morbidhanson wrote:

The old classic by Poe. The Raven.

Runner up would be a really long prose-ish type poem by Allison Benis White. Small Porcelain Head.

It's too long to post but here are some parts I really liked...

"Awaiting execution, Marie Antoinette made a wooden doll, still preserved in a museum in England.That kind of making. Carved until the mind is a doll of a woman in a wooden cell making a doll."

"Because to live is to be entered vertically and repeatedly, the pain is love and making me."


Same
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