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Jaded Geisha
*^_^*
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05-07-2007, 03:41 AM
Quote:
THE FUNERAL.
by John Donne
WHOEVER comes to shroud me, do not harm,
Nor question much,
That subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm ;
The mystery, the sign, you must not touch ;
For 'tis my outward soul,
Viceroy to that, which then to heaven being gone,
Will leave this to control
And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution.
For if the sinewy thread my brain lets fall
Through every part
Can tie those parts, and make me one of all,
Those hairs which upward grew, and strength and art
Have from a better brain,
Can better do 't ; except she meant that I
By this should know my pain,
As prisoners then are manacled, when they're condemn'd to die.
Whate'er she meant by it, bury it with me,
For since I am
Love's martyr, it might breed idolatry,
If into other hands these relics came.
As 'twas humility
To afford to it all that a soul can do,
So 'tis some bravery,
That since you would have none of me, I bury some of you.
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Source:
Donne, John. Poems of John Donne. vol I.
E. K. Chambers, ed.
London: Lawrence & Bullen, 1896. 61-62.
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I love this one... I'm not really a poetry buff so I can't say why I like it properly... But I know I love it...
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pleiades
n/a
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05-07-2007, 06:06 PM
This is my favorite. I actually first learned of it in a community choir because we were singing it. I think the reason why I first fell in love with the poem was because the music was *so* pretty, and after I understood the verses, I loved it so much I almost cried!
Choose Something Like a Star, by Robert Frost
O Star (the fairest one in sight),
We grant your loftiness the right
To some obscurity of cloud --
It will not do to say of night,
Since dark is what brings out your light.
Some mystery becomes the proud.
But to be wholly taciturn
In your reserve is not allowed.
Say something to us we can learn
By heart and when alone repeat.
Say something! And it says "I burn."
But say with what degree of heat.
Talk Fahrenheit, talk Centigrade.
Use language we can comprehend.
Tell us what elements you blend.
It gives us strangely little aid,
But does tell something in the end.
And steadfast as Keats' Eremite,
Not even stooping from its sphere,
It asks a little of us here.
It asks of us a certain height,
So when at times the mob is swayed
To carry praise or blame too far,
We may choose something like a star
To stay our minds on and be staid.[/i]
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pleiades
n/a
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05-07-2007, 06:08 PM
Quote:
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Originally Posted by Rukia Kuchiki
"I like 'Do not Stand at my Grave and Weep' By Mary Frye. I had to do a minor project on it in English. I loved all the hidden meanings and symbolism that I found. Short, but full of emotion it had me talking to the teacher without end about all the ideas it gave me. I like it a lot."
Quote:
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.
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I LOVE THIS! I can understand all the ideas it would give you. It's kind of bittersweet. I think I'm definitely going to go research this author...it's such a pretty poem 8)
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Meko Lara
⊙ω⊙
Banned
n/a
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05-07-2007, 07:15 PM
Through tainted eyes
she gazed apon him
and in mere moments passed
she knew what she must do
She reached out a hand
and took his fate as her own
falling back into deaths open arms
she shed but a single tear
that she would never see him again
but in that moment she knew
his feet would tred the earth ih her stead.
The best poem I ever wrote.
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Ancasta
(¬º-°)¬
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05-07-2007, 09:25 PM
I'm a fan of Poe's lesser known works, my favorite of them being The Conqueror Worm (linked because of long.) Another favorite of his is the poem Song, which comes in very handy when I want to tease or cheer up married friends on their wedding day.
Quote:
I saw thee on thy bridal day —
When a burning blush came o'er thee,
Though happiness around thee lay,
The world all love before thee:
And in thine eye a kindling light
(Whatever it might be)
Was all on Earth my aching sight
Of Loveliness could see.
That blush, perhaps, was maiden shame —
As such it well may pass —
Though its glow hath raised a fiercer flame
In the breast of him, alas!
Who saw thee on that bridal day,
When that deep blush would come o'er thee,
Though happiness around thee lay,
The world all love before thee.
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Another favorite is by Stephen Crane, and is usually referred to as "In the desert."
Quote:
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said: "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter-bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."
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Blaidd_Tywyll
(-.-)zzZ
n/a
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05-08-2007, 08:42 AM
One simple line is all I'm putting here. It should be enough.
'And I, I chose the path less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
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Niren
(-.-)zzZ
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10-29-2007, 06:07 PM
Quote:
Siren Song
This is the one song everyone
would like to learn: the song
that is irresistable:
the song that forces men
to leap overboard in squadrons
even though they see the beached skulls
the song nobody knows
because anyone who has heard it
is dead, and the others can't remember
Shall I tell you the secret
and if I do, will you get me
out of this bird suit?
I don't enjoy it here
squatting on this island
looking picturesque and mythical
with these two feathery maniacs,
I don't enjoy singing
this trio, fatal and valuable.
I will tell the secret to you,
to you, only to you.
Come closer. This song
is a cry for help: Help me!
Only you, only you can,
you are unique
At last. Alas
it is a boring song
but it works every time.
— Margaret Atwood, 1976 —
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I love this poem. I first read it in English lit, last year and I found it funny...well...most of the people in my class found it funny and I like the meaning behind it. I also like Keats work.
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Melangell
(-.-)zzZ
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10-30-2007, 01:57 AM
I like "The Oddysey" and just about anything by Robert Frost...And "Jabberwockey",even though it's nonsence,I memorized the whole thing...I have too much time on my hands...
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Syrie
⊙ω⊙
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10-30-2007, 03:41 AM
I would have to say that my favorite poem is A Poison Tree by William Blake. I read it a good long time ago in my beginning year of high school and it instantly adhered itself into my heart and brain.
I just love the way there's a surface meaning, and then others woven deeper. Enjoy, please. :3
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I water'd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veil'd the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree.
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Smiley160
⊙ω⊙
Banned
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10-30-2007, 03:49 AM
here are mine there not great tho and after someone posts after me ill share my sisters now hers are amazing
My Life is so dark,
i live ina world where i dont belong,
its like im there,but no one cares.
i have one good thing,and thats my family.
i love them so, but i have to let go.
its like searching threw the dark,trying to find an answer.you know you cant,you say no,hoping and praying to find a diffrent solution.
that one i have not named
This one is called
Sister-Writtin to my sister
As much as we fight,she is always gonna be in my life.
I love her so,so i wont let go.
she is the best,its like shes blessed.
shes there when i need her,she is no blurr.
she is very mean,but in my eyes shes the queen.
That was to my sister i made it a while ago
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Aisha Woku
\ (•◡•) /
Banned
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10-30-2007, 08:43 AM
A boat, beneath a sunny sky
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July--
Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear--
Long has paled that sunny sky;
Echoes fade and memories die;
Autumn frosts have slain July.
Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.
Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.
In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die;
Ever drifting down the stream--
Lingering in the golden gleam--
Life, what is it but a dream?
~Lewis Carroll
I just really like this poem. : )
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nayru_moon
⊙ω⊙
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10-30-2007, 09:57 PM
Oh k i have 1!!!! its a poem that i made 4 my language arts class and alot of people thought it was good. It is not one of those poems that u pick a word and 4 each letter u put something on it... eh something like that also its not a haiku i believe but please tell me if im wrong. Also mail me if u like my poem!!! ok then here i go!!
Dance with me my love,
floating in a cloud of rain.
A it quenches life beneath our feet.
Bend with the wind
in a stream of shining pearls,
in purple rays of midnight day,
under purple-white amethyst seas.
As moon bids goosnight
her stars fall to the angel
- a graceful moon dancer
Noprth winds guide her
Into their wings
Into their dance
Into the heart
Into the core
For evrmore...
Thank u 4 reading my poem!!!!! *huggles*
Oh i forget to tell u peoples what the title of the poem is its called " Graceful Moon Dancer."
could u tell what poem techniques i used??? 0.o
I used rhymes um alliteration and other stuff i dont remember.. Thank u all!!!! ^_^
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Lady_Solange
(-.-)zzZ
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10-31-2007, 05:23 AM
My favorite would be The Tale of Annabelle Lee. It's very touching and sad. A truly quick and great read. :D
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Shrimp_Man
ʘ‿ʘ
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11-01-2007, 08:37 PM
My favorite poem is "Annibel Lee" by Edger Allen Poe. I admit that my favorite poet is morbid but I think he's brilliant. I love his poems and his short stories. I think I'm going to ask for his complete anthology for Christmas this year. ^^
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helaia
⊙ω⊙
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11-02-2007, 08:59 PM
My favorite poem is The Raven, by Edgar Allen Poe. I know it's a really popular poem, but I still really like it. Poe is such a tormented man, and pretty much everything he wrote has this element of dispair and angst, it's great :) Not for him, but for us, the reader.
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DarkMelancholy
⊙ω⊙
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11-02-2007, 11:06 PM
My favorite poem would have to be
"One Art" by Elizabeth Bishop.
Quote:
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Originally Posted by Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
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amyleto
*^_^*
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02-15-2008, 08:12 PM
When it comes to poetry, I tend to prefer the story-telling epics. A lot of poetry doesn't seem to have much point unless you are in the right mood for it, otherwise.
My favourite over all, of what I've heard/seen is Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing. I realize that it's a full play, but all of Shakespeare's plays are poetry.
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KatMagenta
Starlet on the rise
☆☆☆
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02-15-2008, 09:12 PM
My favourite short poem at the moment is 'November' by Simon Armitage. I'm digging out my old English Anthology to make sure I get this quote right! He's my favourite poet working today and I have had the pleasure of seeing him read.
Quote:
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Originally Posted by Simon Armitage
Sometimes the sun spangles and we feel alive.
One thing we have to get, John, out of this life.
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If we are including stories told in the form of poetry I have to put forward Lewis Caroll's 'The Hunting of the Snark', even if just for being so wonderful and chilling at the same time. You can read it online here if you'd like. Of course the Jabberwocky is an absolute classic too.
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True Jelly Oh!
Dead Account Holder
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02-16-2008, 04:12 PM
Walt Whitman's "I Hear America Singing"
Quote:
I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear;
Those of mechanics-each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong;
The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work;
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat-the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck;
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench-the hatter singing as he stands;
The wood-cutter's song-the ploughboy's, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown;
The delicious singing of the mother-or of the young wife at work-or of the girl sewing or washing-Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else;
The day what belongs to the day-At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs.
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heartpoint
ʘ‿ʘ
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02-16-2008, 08:00 PM
I like the weary blues by langston hughs but it's a big poem so i won't post it.
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Usukie Ichihara
Dead Account Holder
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02-16-2008, 11:00 PM
mine would have to be the Raven by Edgar Allan Poe.
Quote:
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Originally Posted by Poe
The Raven
[First published in 1845]
horizontal space Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
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Celistaline
Dead Account Holder
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02-17-2008, 05:21 AM
Quote:
I cannot see.
I cannot pee.
I cannot chew.
I cannot screw.
Oh my god, what can I do.
My memory shrinks,
My hearing stinks,
No sense of smell
I look like hell
My mood is bad- can't you tell?
My body's drooping,
having trouble pooping
The golden years have come last,
The golden can kiss my ass.
(The cat in the poem on aging)
Sorry for strong language!! By: vmml97
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~PrincessSerenity~
⊙ω⊙
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02-19-2008, 12:54 AM
I love "A Red, Red Rose" By Robert Burns. I'm a romantic at heart. I also recited this for my final in theater.
Quote:
Oh, my love is like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June
Oh, my love is like a melody
That's sweetly played in tune
So fare art thou my bonnie
So deep in love am I
And I will love thee still my dear
Till all the seas gang dry
Till all the seas gang dry my dear
And rock melt with the sun
And I will still love thee my dear
While the sands o life shall run
And fare thee well my only love
And fare thee well awhile
And I will come again my love
Though it were ten thousand mile.
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rampartte
(。⌒∇⌒)&...
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02-21-2008, 12:41 AM
My favorite poem actually happens to be the Jabberwocky.
I've been obsessed with that poem ever since I read the Alice novels, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass.
Actually I watched the movie version first, the live one that I can't remember who starred in it.
But I really loved the way they portrayed the Jabberwocky, a little mini Godzilla like, but I think they did well to fit him to the way the poem describes him.
Quote:
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
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aquadicprincessqeen
Dead Account Holder
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02-23-2008, 03:22 AM
none of them they make me sick I know as a girl I should like poetry but in truth even though the freakest of my friends like it I do not. I only read shakspreare so I don't flunk L.A. and I normal would never read the stuff I like to stick to good normal books.
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