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Posted 7/17/15
Li-Young Lee's "Persimmons," Aleksandr Pushkin's "Ya Vas Lyubil" ("I loved you once"), or William Blake's "The Sick Rose," though I've burned myself out on Blake's by spending a whole semester writing all of my essays on it while combating the professor's refusal of my readings (after he'd already made me rewrite an analysis of an excerpt from William Wordsworth's "Tintern Abbey").... Not the best idea for the grade-conscious.
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31 / M
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Posted 7/17/15
Puerto Rican Obituary by Pedro Pietri. The poem is political and it's Pietri unabashedly pointing out all the things that he thinks are killing his people. It's a great example of street or urban poetry, based more on life in the city and the struggles of modern time. It's a bit dated, but some of the lines still ring true.

http://monthlyreview.org/2004/06/01/puerto-rican-obituary/
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48 / M / New England, USA
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Posted 7/18/15
Years ago I fell in love with Paradise Lost by John Milton (I was forced to read it is Junior High and surprisingly many of us in class fell in love with it). Even though, to many, it appears a book or a story it is in fact one long poem.

http://www.paradiselost.org/

While I'm an Agnostic in faith, I still can never get by the beauty of the poem.
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30 / M
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Posted 7/18/15
There once was a man from Nantucket...
Posted 7/18/15
Celes's Opera lyrics, very endearing, and it shows a repressed gentleness to this character that is often stoic and cold. Will always remember this scene and how it helped interest me in final fantasy and jrpgs.
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28 / M / in your head
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Posted 7/18/15
My own. Best describes me, so yeah :3
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19 / M / Clock town
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Posted 7/18/15
Fire and Ice
-By Robert Frost

Some say the world will in fire
and some say ice.
From what I tasted from desire
I hold with those whose favor fire
But If it had to perish twice
I think I know enough of hate
to say that for destruction ice
Is also great
and would suffice.
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25 / F / in the land of th...
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Posted 7/19/15 , edited 7/19/15


Verse Off The Sea....
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27 / M
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Posted 7/19/15
The Road Not Taken
- Robert Frost
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18 / M
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Posted 7/19/15
Beowulf and Gilgamesh.
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40 / M / USA
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Posted 7/19/15
In A Dark Time
Theodore Roethke

In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood--
A lord of nature weeping to a tree.
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.
What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall.
That place among the rocks--is it a cave,
Or a winding path? The edge is what I have.

A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is--
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.

Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.
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21 / F / Southern US
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Posted 7/19/15 , edited 7/19/15
Probably the Caoineadh Airt Uí Laoghaire, written by Eibhlín Dubh Ní Chonaill. It has been considered the greatest piece of poetry composed in either Ireland or Britain during the 18th century.
https://vimeo.com/61650786

Aside from that, the Æneid is also on up there, as well as various works by Frost, Thoreau, and Emerson.
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36 / M / US
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Posted 7/19/15
O’er the midnight moorlands crying,
Thro’ the cypress forests sighing,
In the night-wind madly flying,
Hellish forms with streaming hair;
In the barren branches creaking,
By the stagnant swamp-pools speaking,
Past the shore-cliffs ever shrieking;
Damn’d daemons of despair.

Once, I think I half remember,
Ere the grey skies of November
Quench’d my youth’s aspiring ember,
Liv’d there such a thing as bliss;
Skies that now are dark were beaming,
Gold and azure, splendid seeming
Till I learn’d it all was dreaming—
Deadly drowsiness of Dis.

But the stream of Time, swift flowing,
Brings the torment of half-knowing—
Dimly rushing, blindly going
Past the never-trodden lea;
And the voyager, repining,
Sees the wicked death-fires shining,
Hears the wicked petrel’s whining
As he helpless drifts to sea.

Evil wings in ether beating;
Vultures at the spirit eating;
Things unseen forever fleeting
Black against the leering sky.
Ghastly shades of bygone gladness,
Clawing fiends of future sadness,
Mingle in a cloud of madness
Ever on the soul to lie.

Thus the living, lone and sobbing,
In the throes of anguish throbbing,
With the loathsome Furies robbing
Night and noon of peace and rest.
But beyond the groans and grating
Of abhorrent Life, is waiting
Sweet Oblivion, culminating
All the years of fruitless quest.


Despair

By H. P. Lovecraft
Posted 7/19/15
Never understood liking poems, but I'm probably just an uncultured idiot.
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15 / M / Palatine, Illinois
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Posted 7/19/15

haikinka wrote:

Never understood liking poems, but I'm probably just an uncultured idiot.


I don't think it has anything to do with Culture to be honest. It could just be that you don't like any poems
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