Favourite poems

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow—
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me—
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met—
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
(Lord Byron)

I only do crap poetry, you'll find a whole thread on this somewhere on TT. But I like Edgar Allen Poe and William Blake very much. If I had to do a serious poem today it would go something like this:

Why can men not speak
of things within their hearts
Why can men not see
what's in the female heart
Perhaps because the male
brain is full of hot air like a fart

It was going so well until the last two lines came. Sorry, can only do crap.

Great poem. Can only second that! Perhaps someone can come up with the answer?!

This quote comes to mind: You never lose by loving. You always lost by holding back.

If you have a liking for bad poetry, perhaps you know this one? (illustrated by William Blake)
Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat, Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes
Unfortunately I have no answer to your question. If I did I'd be a happier person.

haha...thats mad

reminds me of this German poet, Joachim Ringelnatz (my mum loved his stuff and would always read it when I was a kid)... the man was pretty much blind drunk most of the time and the poems reflect that - absolutely bizarre and so funny.

Re the answer to THE question. Maybe we'll be lucky enough to find a specimen where it is not necessary to have to ask those types of questions in the first place

There is no such a specimen. They all think they are though. Ringelnatz rocks. You are right.

Oscar Wilde - The Ballad of Reading Gaol

Was on the curriculum at school and was the first poem I ever truly appreciated.

That's a good one. For me it was this one from William Blake which we had to read in English Lit:

O Rose, thou art sick!
The Invisible worm,
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed
Of Crimson joy;
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

Probably right re those specimens... not going to give up hope though and hopefully won't settle for less!

Yep, love Ringelnatz the nutter. This is my favourite one:

Ich habe dich so lieb

Ich habe dich so lieb!
Ich würde dir ohne Bedenken
Eine Kachel aus meinem Ofen
Schenken.

Ich habe dir nichts getan.
Nun ist mir traurig zu Mut.
An den Hängen der Eisenbahn
Leuchtet der Ginster so gut.

Vorbei - verjährt -
Doch nimmer vergessen.
Ich reise.
Alles, was lange währt,
Ist leise.

Die Zeit entstellt
Alle Lebewesen.
Ein Hund bellt.
Er kann nicht lesen.
Er kann nicht schreiben.
Wir können nicht bleiben.

Ich lache.
Die Löcher sind die Hauptsache
An einem Sieb.

Ich habe dich so lieb.

I think I would have fallen hopelessly for William Blake had I lived in his time.

Ringelnatz sounds like fun, will check out his other poems. Thanks for pointing him out!

yes...Blake how could one not fall in love with someone who writes so beautifully! (and not afraid of showing emotions either!!!).

and yes, Ringelnatz is great fun to read, he has some even more absurd ones. Try here, there are about 60 of his poems:

http://www.ringelnatz.net/html/joachim_rin...z_gedichte.html

Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw--
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime--Macavity's not there!

Macavity, Macavity, there's no on like Macavity,
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime--Macavity's not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air--
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there!

Macavity's a ginger cat, he's very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly doomed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake.

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square--
But when a crime's discovered, then Macavity's not there!

He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's.
And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair--
Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there!

And when the Foreign Office finds a Treaty's gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scap of paper in the hall or on the stair--
But it's useless of investigate--Macavity's not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
"It must have been Macavity!"--but he's a mile away.
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macacity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibit, or one or two to spare:
And whatever time the deed took place--MACAVITY WASN'T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!

T S Eliot

why dost thou complain
of men
Is not It in vain
women ?

Indeed from the hearth he does speak!
but not to you
because
if he would do
of friendship, not sex you would reek!

Now go figure.
If you dont like this one, replace the last line with:

surely you'd think hes a geek!

Edit: this is the bad poetry thread, right?

no no, this is the interesting and unique poetry thread...