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Thread: Your Favorite Poems from fellow Lit-Netters

  1. #46
    Ruadh gu brath ampoule's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by lalaine View Post
    Hi,
    If you're referring to the poem Lady in Red, this is Lalaine from the Philippines. I wrote this when I was attending a Sunday mass with my family.
    Thanks for reading
    Ooops, sorry. I thought this is where we post our favorites of others.
    I'm in love with The Vinegar Man and Mr. Tanner, but be careful, it could just as easily be you.

    "If you're going to write you better have somewhere to come from." Flannery O'Connor

  2. #47
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    Smile

    Oops sorry. I was supposed to post it in personal poetry.

  3. #48
    Live. Be. Sing. symphony's Avatar
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    Just came across this in the form poetry contest thread. Loved it.
    By Bii:
    Chemical Dreams

    I fall awake from chemical dreams
    absorbing the sleepy light of day.
    Knowing that all is not as it seems;
    wondering whether I’m here to stay.

    I have a feeling about this day
    the light is heavier than it seems.
    The gathering clouds are here to stay;
    billowing darkly around my dreams

    Time passes slowly, or so it seems;
    a wandering moment is here to stay.
    Settling softly within my dreams
    breathing the warmth of a summer’s day.

    So here in this moment I will stay
    cushioned within my chemical dreams.
    No more to feel the cold light of day;
    knowing that all is not as it seems.
    .
    ...the smell of flowers through metal labyrinths.

  4. #49
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    Wow, thanks Symphony!

    There are so many great poems on this site it's hard to pick one's to single out. I found this one from Il Penseroso particularly moving :

    Birds in a Landscape of Air

    Birds awaken from his sleeve
    alive and fluttering
    in a breeze,
    beating strength against
    his feathered chest.

    At each stage of soaring
    a lens is built to shear the air,
    the glass refraction of an eye
    clears raw pulsing clouds,
    and shapeless a storm of air
    bent by flapping wings
    traces fleeting symbols
    in lines across the sky.

    The mirrored waves
    struck by light combust
    in shapes that spread
    a drizzled spray,
    land is reached by feathered
    hands, plying currents
    from the day.

  5. #50
    Live. Be. Sing. symphony's Avatar
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    The following is by Countess.
    Ecomnium to the Glorious Romantic Era
    Part Two of Modern Romantic Poetry... (also a work in progress)

    ECOMNIUM TO THE GLORIOUS ROMANTIC ERA

    Once upon a midnight dream I saw
    Twin toppled towers astride a mottled moon
    Which from below a dim-lit bower gazed on
    Between two tree tops hung in wretched gloom

    The arbor door cracked, revealed a somber sprite
    Whose hollowed eyes bespoke some horrid tale
    A tragic figure! This small frame all wrapped in white
    Which hurried to the far side of the dale.

    Before the armied forest she ceased her flight
    Aside a weak Willow, its bleak face buried in the ground
    Then stretched forth her hand, released some glinted gold
    Spread forth the shiny dew-drops all around.

    The gilded tears glimmered, shimmied grim unnatural dance -
    A terrible twosome tango betwix the lunar haze
    That pierced the darkness like a wicked wizard’s glance -
    Then rose up - nay, grew - from ghastly flowers into graves!

    “These are my children” she moaned or seemed to, for her lips stayed fixed
    Like twins attached.
    “An unearthly school, a mottled lot from another shore.
    This one, a white albatross brought home, and this one, a black raven named Lenore.”

    Lenore. At that name a diabolical pitch arose from below the freckled dust
    A paralyzing sound, unutterable! No human word could form
    The cacophonic cries that soared from that damnable ground,
    Or shape the wraiths which ascended from that condemned shore.

    With ghoulish countenances each, in turn, took a bow
    And introduced himself, first Coleridge, then Byron and Yeats,
    Poe recited a melancholic round while Wollstonecraft read verse
    To Shelly and Johann Keats.

    Then that cursed light whose advent heralds the sun
    Stormed through the shade, across my naked cheeks
    To peer below my peaceful, virgiled lids
    And with grim reality, my dreamer’s dream erased -
    NEVERMORE!
    It's a poem that made me feel i want to write something like this when i grow up.


    By the way, have anyone seen Adolescent lately? Where did he disappear?
    No sign of Uncle Lar either!!
    .
    ...the smell of flowers through metal labyrinths.

  6. #51
    Freak Ingenu Countess's Avatar
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    There are a billion great poems on this site, and choosing one is like choosing a flavor from amongst every conceivable variation of chocolate ice cream known to God. BUT, these two were the ones that touched me *today*, so I will post them *today*, with the understanding that tomorrow will undoubtedly bring another.

    The first I liked for nature's imagery (it's reminiscent of the Romantic poets, esp the naturalists like Wordsworth or Byron):

    This between-space...
    This breath between steps...
    shall offer thee a window on what has gone before.

    Look back.
    Sweep thine eyes over the greenness of the valley,
    the deep forest darkness that has sheltered thee,
    the watery expanse that has carried thee here.
    Cast your glance across the breadth of experience
    that is you.

    This between-space...
    This warm and quiet embrace...
    shall offer thee a vision of the future.

    Look beyond and remember
    what has not yet come to be.
    Take me in your arms.
    Spin me around the back of the moon.
    Feel the tingling of stardust pass thee by
    as we dance on a comet's trail,
    skirting along the edge of quantum depths,
    dipping and gliding through the shadows
    of planets not yet born.
    Take my hand...come with me beyond the universe...
    back to where we have yet to begin.

    But for now....
    all that you need is here
    in this between-space.

    .
    cdn/24jul07

    The second I liked because the author captured raw emotion and not only conveyed that emotion to the reader, but even induced the feeling in the reader with the power of her words.

    If I use my voice
    A voice so loud the young will cry and
    the deaf will shield their ears,
    so powerful that strength will crumble and
    weakness will vanish
    giving voice to inner thoughts.
    Self expression.
    It would be criminal, forbidden.
    Submit, lie down
    Hold your breath until you vanish
    Still silence screams with force, a terrible force
    Hear and see that there is more, I am more.

    Mother Hubbard

  7. #52
    Flying against the wind CdnReader's Avatar
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    Oh wow! I am VERY honoured, Countess. Thank you.
    *

    "Courage is not the absence of fear but the judgment that something else is more important than fear." -- Ambrose Redmoon

    CR: Madame Bovary, by Gustave Flaubert
    JF: Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen. My review is here.

  8. #53
    solid motherhubbard's Avatar
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    I thank you too Countess. it is an honor

  9. #54
    Freak Ingenu Countess's Avatar
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    I also have wanted (for some time) to add this one, but I had to find it first. It's dedicated to the thread-starter, and it's his last poem here. I loved it when I read it, but I think perhaps it might not have been entirely clear for some, so I'm posting it here with my thoughts on it. Again, I don't know if this is what he intended or not - but it's my interpretation. He'll have to show his face to prove me wrong.

    Appomattox

    A poem dedicated to the end of the Civil War.

    Surrender was the straw of hope
    and took it up they did.


    Surrender and hope are an ironical paradox. He points this out.

    Battalion
    vaunts up and rose but pomp
    was clouded in.


    Though they were defeated, the Southern forces maintained a sense of pride/dignity.
    Author exchanges “rose up” for “vaunts up”, which suggests an internal rallying of said dignity. Contrasts use of “up” and “rose” (upwards motion) with “in” - uses “cloud,” a word associated with smoke - there was no external display of this dignity.

    A flame lit immoral
    befitting rise in passion,
    leading rants on Yankees
    to cook their pride in sin.


    Utilizes “cooking imagery” (similar to battlefield imagery: flame lit, rise, passion, cook) to convey this “immoral” passion of pride. The irony is Southern pride is in itself a respectable quality, but the South was “in sin” in this instance, so their immoral, passionate pride was “in sin”.

    Where mind at will
    gives thought to fort and citadel
    is built, a tyrant will annex
    but feel his soul burn like cinders.


    Lee’s main point was to protect and access his supply line, hence “gives thought to fort and citadel”. These supplies would enable the Southern forces to maintain their campaign. Author indicates his determination (tyrant) will prove him successful at achieving his goal, but at the expense of his soul burning in Hell.

    A change of season

    The two forces fought throughout the winter, but with the coming of Spring, Lee hoped to break free when the rains ceased and the road cleared.

    and fortune brought
    from middle-west,
    a defense for right.


    “Right” is a double-entendre. The Union V-Corps arrived and established themselves to the right of Union forces. Also, they were “right”.

    His beared and booze
    and jocund mood,
    his native plights and tales so trite
    deemed quite angsty and often rude
    was the bloat of last resort.


    Here “bloat” reflects Lee’s pride. “Beared” “booze” and “Jocund” are descriptive words characterizing his personality. Plights/Trite/Angsty/Rude probably refer to his statement: “All that is left is for me to surrender, and I’d rather die a thousand deaths”.

    It was as though depravity
    lost adopted sense
    when barbarity gave rise
    to squall,
    that fell the Southern fence.


    Here, the “adopted sense” probably refers to the Southern defense that the depravity of slavery was a necessary evil and a “God-given institution“, to support the Southern economy. Here the “squall” probably refers to the last storm of Confederate forces - upon arriving at a crest ridge, they discovered - despite their success - Union troops with the V-Force off to the right. No longer was the war about slavery, but about Lee’s ego and winning.

    Entrenched was a mutual flag of cheers
    when obdurate command surrendered


    Grant, who had had “a headache” throughout the App battle, suddenly found himself “headache-less” once Lee surrendered. (No, I’m not joking).

    Negro rights was given in future years
    Hurrah for the boozed defender!


    I don’t really know if Lee was a drunk, but it seems Adol thinks so. (-:

  10. #55
    :) Stephweet :) stephofthenight's Avatar
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    by ampoule
    i realy realy like this one


    The day was heavy but her heart was light
    as she stood marveling at the Water Tower,
    wondering how it, amongst all the beautiful
    buildings of that day, had survived the fire.

    The day was heavy but her heart was light
    as she skipped down Michigan Avenue
    touching skyscrapers with one hand while
    waving at sailboats with the other.

    The day was light but her heart was heavy
    as she trembled in the arms of the black woman,
    clinging to the curb from which she had fallen,
    marveling and wondering and skipping.

    The day was light but her heart was heavy
    as she longed for a name and a town,
    hoping to place them upon the floral paper
    that would hold her fanciest pen of gratitude.

    But as she sat, staring out at the day,
    She knew, in reality, both of their hearts were light.

    "Be careful of quotes you find on the internet, they may not always be true" -Abraham Lincon-

  11. #56
    Live. Be. Sing. symphony's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Countess View Post
    I also have wanted (for some time) to add this one, but I had to find it first. It's dedicated to the thread-starter, and it's his last poem here. I loved it when I read it, but I think perhaps it might not have been entirely clear for some, so I'm posting it here with my thoughts on it. Again, I don't know if this is what he intended or not - but it's my interpretation. He'll have to show his face to prove me wrong.
    Not to prove u wrong, but i hope it's about time he shows up his face since he hasnt shown it for quite a while now.
    We miss u Adol, where on earth are u?!
    .
    ...the smell of flowers through metal labyrinths.

  12. #57
    Ruadh gu brath ampoule's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by stephofthenight View Post
    by ampoule
    i realy realy like this one


    The day was heavy but her heart was light
    as she stood marveling at the Water Tower,
    wondering how it, amongst all the beautiful
    buildings of that day, had survived the fire.

    The day was heavy but her heart was light
    as she skipped down Michigan Avenue
    touching skyscrapers with one hand while
    waving at sailboats with the other.

    The day was light but her heart was heavy
    as she trembled in the arms of the black woman,
    clinging to the curb from which she had fallen,
    marveling and wondering and skipping.

    The day was light but her heart was heavy
    as she longed for a name and a town,
    hoping to place them upon the floral paper
    that would hold her fanciest pen of gratitude.

    But as she sat, staring out at the day,
    She knew, in reality, both of their hearts were light.
    Oh my goodness, steph, thank you so VERY much. How wonderful it is to be encouraged.


    And yes symphony...come back adol!
    I'm in love with The Vinegar Man and Mr. Tanner, but be careful, it could just as easily be you.

    "If you're going to write you better have somewhere to come from." Flannery O'Connor

  13. #58
    Something's gotta give PrinceMyshkin's Avatar
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    At Big Sur

    Has anyone added this yet? If not, why not - please explain. Yes you, I'm asking you. And if it has been added, can there be any harm in adding it again?
    And again?

    At Big Sur
    -from San Francisco Poems, for Gabrielle

    You must notice the woman
    in the photo, light blazer,
    turtleneck, blue jeans, blonde,
    but off your left shoulder,
    where your hair falls on a lapel,
    is the Pacific Ocean and a gray sky.

    It is not a melancholy sky. The ocean
    too is gray, with a hint of aquamarine
    swimming to the surface.
    They are like two mirrors reflecting
    one another, each holding both
    the image and the reality of the image
    as its own. The mystery begins there.

    Where is the small rock in the mirror
    of the sky, the blemish with the spume of wave,
    near the edge of what we see?
    I still say mirrors. And if you told me,
    the sky you see is not the sky,
    I would say, enough of that! Look,
    those enduring tufts of grass stand tall,

    even though the vast Pacific seems to lay
    its miles of rolling in a gathering of cotton
    swirl along their petioles. And the grass,
    with its panne embossing on the raw
    cocoa silk of rock at the woman’s feet,
    see how it gathers effortlessly beneath
    the flame-stitch organza trim of alfilaria,
    and the broach of quartz, so elegant
    the way it nearly escapes the observer entirely.

    My gaze falls then on your left boot,
    fashionably cinnabar in this light,
    in a perfect downward slope,
    suspended over all of this:
    the faux-verdigris of the Pacific,
    the fire and velvet of the earth’s
    late-afternoon camisole,
    and the uncalculated batting
    of her lashes over the ocean’s eye
    as it gazes surreptitiously on you
    balanced like sunlight on the pied boulders.

    You will say this too is not the truth,
    how your face is not the sun you wear
    around your neck, your hair the wave-form
    of the wind and not the wind itself,
    perfect in its disregard, circling your right eye
    that sees me for the instant of a shutter.
    Almost unnoticed is the road behind you,
    only a dash of road in the background
    of your right shoulder, and the promise
    of a road , so subtle in the cliffs beyond.

    It is the road that led me here to this timeless
    day, watching your smile, the beautiful
    disorder in the cuff of your jeans, the fray
    like tuft grass. Enough of this, you say.
    But I will see your heart, a lioness in a waking
    stretch, here or in some tropic isle, where
    you dance in tiered chiffon, or in combed
    cotton with a deck of cards, barefoot
    on a Sunday much like this. The promise turns
    its mysterious way along these ancient cliffs,
    but what I will see and I will remember always
    is the pre-eminence of you in the midst of splendor.
    firefangled
    Last edited by PrinceMyshkin; 07-26-2007 at 07:55 AM.

  14. #59
    Freak Ingenu Countess's Avatar
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    I'll second your vote, Prince.

  15. #60
    Registered User quasimodo1's Avatar
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    {the verse of younger days} Into the Adirondacks (prose poetry format) Ankles in the gaiters, weight falling on vibram, trek in from miscivil nation,looking to widen the swath, sliping under wilderness, oblivion of muck stroll and cary all the grub, balancing top heavy, being thoughtlessly ready to fall, turn and crash, but make your backpack take the hit,alone and fit, yourself stay bright and nimble, the solo walk is grit and pain goes all along, then leaves the shoulders sore in three nights sleep and bivuac, you get your legs and sticks, you cut it from a birch at risk to be used impelling, push up to gain a foot, hearing a wounded bear, mistreated by canadians, with muzzle loading fire and arms, they are here for sport while you just want new york and seeking fresh exhaustion, really spent by night, lay down your head, ignore granitized bed, the hiker has unknowing dreams and wakes before a beam of light can split the trees, then treks ahead like all the trips, from trail to scree and footpath, the gravity is less, a lighter load with living, which wouldn't happen where; spends and pay, justifies each day, and makes,like sodders, hay.
    Last edited by quasimodo1; 07-29-2007 at 01:45 AM.

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