Poetry - DPChallenge Forums

Nikon AF-S DX Zoom-Nikkor 18-55mm f/3.5-5.6 ED

04/04/2006 01:27:11 AM · #1

Post your favorite poems, your own or otherwise. I know there have been threads similar to this in the past, but in this thread poems need not necessarily be coupled with a photo.

Here are a few of my favorites:

Desert Places

Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast
In a field I looked into going past,
And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,
But a few weeds and stubble showing last.

The woods around it have it--it is theirs.
All animals are smothered in their lairs.
I am too absent-spirited to count;
The loneliness includes me unawares.

And lonely as it is that loneliness
Will be more lonely ere it will be less--
A blanker whiteness of benighted snow
With no expression, nothing to express.

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars--on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places.

-Robert Frost

A Noiseless Patient Spider

A noiseless, patient spider,
I markâ��d, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated;
Markâ��d how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launchâ��d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;
Ever unreeling themâ��ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you, O my Soul, where you stand,
Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,â��seeking the spheres, to connect them;
Till the bridge you will need, be formâ��dâ��till the ductile anchor hold;
Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.

-Walt Whitman

giraffee

Nikon D50

04/04/2006 01:53:22 AM · #2

The Owl and the Pussy-cat

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!'

Pussy said to the Owl, 'You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?'
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

'Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?' Said the Piggy, 'I will.'
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

Edward Lear
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yellow
Robert W. Service

One pearly day in early May I walked upon the sand
And saw, say half a mile away, a man with gun in hand.
A dog was cowering to his will as slow he sought to creep
Upon a dozen ducks so still they seemed to be asleep.

When like a streak the dog dashed out, the ducks flashed up in flight.
The fellow gave a savage shout and cursed with all his might.
Then as I stood somewhat amazed and gazed with eyes agog,
With bitter rage his gun he raised and blazed and shot the dog.

You know how dogs can yelp with pain; its blood soaked in the sand,
And yet it crawled to him again, and tried to lick his hand.
"Forgive me Lord for what I've done," it seemed as if it said,
But once again he raised his gun -- this time he shot it dead.

What could I do? What could I say? 'Twas such a lonely place.
Tongue-tied I watched him stride away, I never saw his face.
I should have bawled the bastard out, a yellow dog he slew.
But worse, he proved beyond a doubt that - I was yellow too.

stare_at_the_sun

Canon EOS-10D

04/04/2006 01:54:39 AM · #3

This has been in my profile for weeks:

What was the start of all this?
When did the cogs of fate begin to turn?
Perhaps it is impossible to grasp the answer now,
From deep within the flow of time...
But, for a certainty, back then
We loved so many, yet hated so much,
We hurt others and were hurt ourselves
Yet even then, we ran like the wind,
Whilst our laughter echoed,
Under Cerulean skies...

zxaar

04/04/2006 02:57:22 AM · #4

My favorite is these lines i wrote to my wife:
===========================
Read this poem of three line:
You
Me
and Love.
===========================

GeneralE

Canon PowerShot S3 IS

Canon 12x IS USM (S3 IS built-in Lens) -- 36-432mm (35mm EQ)

04/04/2006 03:25:30 AM · #5

Here's an earlier thread with quite a few original compositions.

DPC Limericks
and The OEDILF

IndigoButterfly

Nikon D7100

Nikon AF-S DX NIKKOR 18-200mm f/3.5-5.6G ED VR II

04/04/2006 04:07:01 AM · #6

Baby Small

I remember when I was young
baby small
and momma would fill the iron with coal
to make sure our clothes were pretty
Momma's mop
was our favorite mare
I remember when
we'd tear into the chocolate bars
and throw away the sweet
to fight over the almonds
We played with weedle bugs
and had mango wars
Coconut trees rustled
our ocean lullaby
And there was nothing better
than being barefoot
afro-headed and buck-toothed
with the bright glow of mischief in our eyes

(back in college, I entered this into a contest and won something, but can't remember what.)

cmeier

04/04/2006 08:03:11 AM · #7

This friend I shall not name, but is
The same I find along my path.
She takes my hand and pulls me fore
With smiling face and taunting laugh.
â��Oh you, come here! and we shall see
The sun ahead and wind behind
And scattered leaves on forest floor.â��

And so, I smile and walk along
Beside my friend, so fair and kind.
As shadows pass upon the ground
And time, unheeded by our minds,
Brings forth around us quiet change
And days once long and lonely felt,
They pass us by without a sound.

What luck! what chance, I had to meet
This friend whose life I now adore?
What fate, to find the sunny soul
Amidst the masses, painâ��d and sore?
And so I face the clearing day
With steady heart and deep resolve.
She, by my side, my friend and goal.

Bear_Music

Samsung Galaxy S24, S24+, S24 Ultra

Sony 24-70mm f/4 Vario-Tessar T* FE OSS

04/04/2006 10:06:34 AM · #8

Love Without Hope

Love without hope, as when the young bird-catcher
Swept off his tall hat to the Squire's own daughter,
So let the imprisoned larks escape and fly
Singing about her head, as she rode by.

â�� Robert Graves

Canon EF 200mm f/2.8 L II USM Lens

04/07/2006 04:58:10 PM · #9

Bereft

Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
What would it take my standing there for,
Holding open a restive door,
Looking down hill to a frothy shore?
Summer was past and day was past.
Somber clouds in the west were massed.
Out in the porch's sagging floor,
leaves got up in a coil and hissed,
Blindly struck at my knee and missed.
Something sinister in the tone
Told me my secret must be known:
Word I was in the house alone
Somehow must have gotten abroad,
Word I was in my life alone,
Word I had no one left but God.

â�� Robert Frost

skewsme

Canon EOS-6D

04/07/2006 05:03:17 PM · #10

The Thread of Life

The irresponsive silence of the land,
The irresponsive sounding of the sea,
Speak both one message of one sense to me:â��
Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand
Thou too aloof, bound with the flawless band
Of inner solitude; we bind not thee;
But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free?
What heart shall touch thy heart? what hand?â��
And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek,
And some times I remember days of old
When fellowship seemâ��d not so far to seek
And all the world and I seemâ��d much less cold,
And at the rainbowâ��s foot lay surely gold,
And hope felt strong and life itself not weak.

-Christina Rossetti

(poem also known by the title "Aloof")

Samsung Galaxy S24, S24+, S24 Ultra

04/08/2006 12:43:06 AM · #11

The Unknown Citizen

(To JS/07 M 378
This Marble Monument Is Erected by the State)

He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all the reports on his conduct agree
That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint,
For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired,
But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views,
For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
And our Social Psychology workers found
That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.
Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
And his Health-card shows he was once in a hospital but left it cured.
Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Installment Plan
And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.
Our researchers into Public Opinion are content
That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;
When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war, he went.
He was married and added five children to the population,
Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation.
And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education.
Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.

- W. H. Auden

Bear_Music

Sony 24-70mm f/4 Vario-Tessar T* FE OSS

04/08/2006 12:58:21 AM · #12

YOU, ANDREW MARVELL

And here face down beneath the sun
And here upon earth's noonward height
To feel the always coming on
The always rising of the night

To feel creep up the curving east
The earthy chill of dusk and slow
Upon those under lands the vast
And ever climbing shadow grow

And strange at Ecbatan the trees
Take leaf by leaf the evening strange
The flooding dark about their knees
The mountains over Persia change

And now at Kermanshah the gate
Dark empty and the withered grass
And through the twilight now the late
Few travelers in the westward pass

And Baghdad darken and the bridge
Across the silent river gone
And through Arabia the edge
Of evening widen and steal on

And deepen on Palmyra's street
The wheel rut in the ruined stone
And Lebanon fade out and Crete
High through the clouds and overblown

And over Sicily the air
Still flashing with the landward gulls
And loom and slowly disappear
The sails above the shadowy hulls

And Spain go under and the shore
Of Africa the gilded sand
And evening vanish and no more
The low pale light across that land

Nor now the long light on the sea

And here face downward in the sun
To feel how swift how secretly
The shadow of the night comes on...

â�� Archibald MacLeish

(The poem's title is a reference to Andrew marvell's "To His Coy Mistress": But at my back I always hear / Time's winged chariot hurrying near, / And yonder all before us lie / Deserts of vast eternity...)

Message edited by author 2006-04-08 00:59:46.

04/08/2006 04:45:13 PM · #13

Meeting at Night

The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!

- Robert Browning