During my last post I shared some poems that move me, now it is your turn to share a poem that you enjoy. Please post your choices, complete with explanations of why you enjoy the work as well as a link to the poem.
I am looking forward to reading some of your favorites!
17 comments:
Benjamin Alire Saenz
To the Desert
I came to you one rainless August night. You taught me how to live without the rain. You are thirst and thirst is all I know. You are sand, wind, sun, and burning sky, the hottest blue. You blow a breeze and brand your breath into my mouth. You reach- then bend your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new. You wrap your name tight around my ribs and keep me warm. I was born for you. Above, below, by you, by you surrounded. I awake to you at dawn. Never break your knot. Reach, rise, blow, salvame, me dios, Tragame, me tierra, salva, traga, Break me, I am bred. I will be the water for your thirst.
It inspires me to further my belief in true love and the way the author concludes the poem with an Allusion seems really clever to me.
Roses are red,
violets are blue.
I think you're great,
my pet cow says moo.
Theme For English B
By:Langston Hughes
The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you---
Then, it will be true.
I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:
It's not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me---we two---you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York too.) Me---who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records---Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn't make me NOT like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?
Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white---
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That's American.
Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that's true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me---
although you're older---and white---
and somewhat more free.
This is my page for English B.
I remember I read this poem in your class and it is a poem that I know I'll never forget. It has really opened my eyes to the truth which is the fact that you are who you are because of your surroundings.
Revolution
by Susan Griffin
I would not have gotten in this boat with you.
I would not
except
where else was there
at the dock's end
to go?
The water
was cold.
I would not have let you row the boat.
I could see
what kind of man you were.
I would not but
who was there to choose
between
you and me?
I would not have let you throw away the oars.
I knew what would happen next,
except
what else was there to do,
struggle
in a boat with a leak
over cold water?
- this poem was one of those things in you life that changes the course of how you perceive the world. Griffin exemplifies how little by little, if you let others lead YOUR life, you're bound to drown within the illusion you yourself helped create. Those people who sit around and talk of how they know what's wrong with the world, of how they know what they're doing wrong, but in the end choose to keep living life the same crappy way it's been lived, they are the ones who are at the cure of the problem. Struggle is at the forefront of mankind's existence, the struggle to understand and comprehend. You have to know when to get off the boat.
http://poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=180429
Although this poem is very short, for some reason it moves me. I discovered it in a World War II videogame and it really caught on to me. This poem was inscribed on a Marine's grave who served in the Guadacanal campaign.
"And When He Gets To Heaven,
To Saint Peter He Will Tell;
One More Marine Reporting Sir,
I've Served My Time In Hell"
One of my favorite poems is Maya Angelou's "Still I Rise." It's a poem written in the midst of trying times and, as I often struggle with genuine optimism, "Still I Rise" offers a truly positive outlook in spite of criticism and negativity. That Angelou goes so far as to mock negativity is admirable and uplifting. Her sarcastic tone at certain parts adds a humorous air. I could go on, but the poem should speak for itself
Still I Rise
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
( poemhunter.com )
Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe. I enjoy this poem because I think it is beautifully written and Poe's way with words is quit amazing. This poem also really opens my eyes to the fact that if you really care about someone, you will always love them no matter what happens and there isn't a person or thing that can change that. This poem is about Poe's love for a woman named Annabel Lee and how everything was going well for them and then she died. The poem still goes on to talk about how strong Poe's love is for Annabel Lee. http://www.pambytes.com/poe/poems/annabel.html
well I know this is an English class and therefore the poem should be in English but as you said some students don't like poetry because it's hard to understand and I would be one of those students. One of the few short poems that I actually like is in Spanish:
si tu cuerpo fuera cercel
y tus brasos cadenas
que bonito lugar
para cumplir mis condenas!
if you translate it, it says:
If your body was jail
and your arms were chains
what a beautiful place
to serve my sentence!
of course it rhymes in Spanish, it's not so good in English, but I like it because it's cute. I'm a very romantic person, so I like these types of cute little poems.
My favorite poem is in Spanish. It is called "La Canción del Pirata" written by Jose de Espronceda and is one of the key poems of the key poems of the era of the Spanish romanticism in the beginning of the 19th century. This poem talks about the ocean being his motherland and how free and happy he is to leave on it. I in fact love this poem because of the sense of freedom it gives the reader. Now, not even the ocean is free, but at least it is more free than land, where superior authorities still fight for land.
for the Spanish people who may want to read it:
"la Canción del Pirata"
By: José de Espronceda
Con diez cañones por banda,
Viento en popa, a toda vela,
no corta el mar, sino vuela
un velero bergantín.
Bajel pirata que llaman,
por su bravura, El Temido,
en todo mar conocido
del uno al otro confín.
La luna en el mar riela
en la lona gime el viento,
y alza en blando movimiento
olas de plata y azul;
y va el capitán pirata,
cantando alegre en la popa,
Asia a un lado, al otro Europa,
y allá a su frente Istambul:
Navega, velero mío
sin temor,
que ni enemigo navío
ni tormenta, ni bonanza
tu rumbo a torcer alcanza,
ni a sujetar tu valor.
Veinte presas
hemos hecho
a despecho
del inglés
y han rendido
sus pendones
cien naciones
a mis pies.
Que es mi barco mi tesoro,
que es mi dios la libertad,
mi ley, la fuerza y el viento,
mi única patria, la mar.
Allá; muevan feroz guerra
ciegos reyes
por un palmo más de tierra;
que yo aquí; tengo por mío
cuanto abarca el mar bravío,
a quien nadie impuso leyes.
Y no hay playa,
sea cualquiera,
ni bandera
de esplendor,
que no sienta
mi derecho
y dé pechos mi valor.
Que es mi barco mi tesoro,
que es mi dios la libertad,
mi ley, la fuerza y el viento,
mi única patria, la mar.
A la voz de "¡barco viene!"
es de ver
cómo vira y se previene
a todo trapo a escapar;
que yo soy el rey del mar,
y mi furia es de temer.
En las presas
yo divido
lo cogido
por igual;
sólo quiero
por riqueza
la belleza
sin rival.
Que es mi barco mi tesoro,
que es mi dios la libertad,
mi ley, la fuerza y el viento,
mi única patria, la mar.
¡Sentenciado estoy a muerte!
Yo me río
no me abandone la suerte,
y al mismo que me condena,
colgaré de alguna antena,
quizá; en su propio navío
Y si caigo,
¿qué es la vida?
Por perdida
ya la di,
cuando el yugo
del esclavo,
como un bravo,
sacudí.
Que es mi barco mi tesoro,
que es mi dios la libertad,
mi ley, la fuerza y el viento,
mi única patria, la mar.
Son mi música mejor
aquilones,
el estrépito y temblor
de los cables sacudidos,
del negro mar los bramidos
y el rugir de mis cañones.
Y del trueno
al son violento,
y del viento
al rebramar,
yo me duermo
sosegado,
arrullado
por el mar.
Que es mi barco mi tesoro,
que es mi dios la libertad,
mi ley, la fuerza y el viento,
mi única patria, la mar.
http://www.macalester.edu/~hammarberg/russ265/student%20poems.html
In this webpage, there is a translation of the poem if you guys want to take a look at it.
Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
I like this poem a lot because Robert Frost writes great poems and this poem is my favorite poem. The reason why I choose this poem because it always gets me thinking about life and how one way can predict your life, because which ever way the narrative choose to go he or she would be stuck with it for the rest of their lifes. One road could have lead to money and fame and the other road may have lead to a mystery.
My favorite poem is the poem which i posted on my blog. The poem is a rather depressing poem, but it's also very moving. If you've lost something or someone very dear and close to you, the peom may do you wonders....I know it did me.
http://zummo.blogspot.com/2008/12/little-by-little.html
One of my favorite poems would have to be The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe. It basically revolves around a man mourning the death of a beautiful woman. The raven serves as a symbol for the death and helps to set the dark and dreary mood of the poem. Whenever the raven comes to the speaker, it is Lenore and each time it makes the speaker more and more upset. I think that the symbolism and this overall poem is fantastic, and to read it go to http://www.heise.de/ix/raven/Literature/Lore/TheRaven.html
Seeker Of Truth
by E. E. Cummings
seeker of truth
follow no path
all paths lead where
truth is here
I think this is a great poem because in my opinion, E.E. Cummings is trying to say that everyone has their own path to take, and it is only that path that will take you to your personal truth. I think with "follow no path", he is saying that you have to choose your own path and all paths lead to truth, but one person's truth isn't another's.
My favorite poem (A very straight-forward poem):
I S L A M
Islam is peace, Islam is ease.
Islam is not danger or disease.
Islam is love and prosperity.
Islam is not hatred or adversity.
Islam is salvation through repentance.
Islam has love for all in abundance.
Islam means no harm or affliction.
Islam implores you with affection.
Islam is neither maze nor craze.
Islam is giving Allah all praise.
Islam is acing through the race.
Islam will be on everyone's face.
Islam is worshipping only the Creator.
Islam is not mere numbers on a calculator.
Islam gives you power when you surrender.
Islam is not a terrorist or for a pretender.
Islam is patience and perseverance.
Islam eases your vengeance through tolerance.
Islam is life for all eternity.
Islam gives you respect, moreover dignity.
Islam is winning hearts through honesty.
Islam is giving openly in charity.
Islam makes you wholesome and trustworthy.
Islam is in wealth as well as in poverty.
Islam is your shield against all evil.
Islam is for your soul's retrieval.
Islam is not fundamentalism or fanaticism.
Islam is not nationalism or racism.
Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
I never really had a favorite poem. Honestly, I never really liked poetry. Since this is the only blog I have to respond too, I decided to take it seriously. As I was looking through google to find a poem that I might recongnize or even enjoy, I came across Shel Silverstein's, "Where the Sidewalk Ends". I remember this poem from back in the day, elementary school. I enjoy reading this poem with the rhyming word choice and the description that Shel Silverstein uses in his poems. I still really don't like poetry.
http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/shel_silverstein/poems/14836
Lust for me
Call to me to please you
To drown your pain in my own
Rub gentle hands covered in blood down my body
Cover me in your sins
For they excite me like nothing before
They sicken me beyond belief
But still I desire you to want me
To long for me even when there is another
For my body is your temple
Your haven in which you may conceal yourself
And all you must do
Is lust for me
Long for me
For you are my only sin
It really pertains to everyone because everyone has that person that they lust for.
Oh poo.
I saw this go up at the beginning of the week, and I was hoping you'd put up another post. I don't really like poetry. I appreciate how hard it is to right, because quite frankly I suck at it, but we just don't get along. It's just not how I express myself.
Anyway, here's my favorite bit-
My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light.
http://www.quotationspage.com/quote/24991.html
All it is is an exerpt. It's short and simple, but I love it. Too me, it means having passion for something, but burning out. You know how it is, when you get really into something, so into it that you get sick of it after a while. Often I look back at those things I grew sick of and think, yeah, I got tired of it, but it really was great while it lasted.
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