Forum: The Classroom
Topic: Not Another Favorite Thread!
started by: Non

Posted by Non on Jul. 23 2001,10:14
I don't think there has been one for Favorite Poet/poems and if there has we can always use another.

I really like < Allen Ginsburg's Howl > and < John Keats > had a cool life and wrote some good stuff before he died at 24.

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"Removed from their natural habitat, they can become highly aggressive. They bite, and their favoured method of attack is to hurl themselves at people's heads."
--< Non >


Posted by miNus on Jul. 23 2001,11:32
< If > by Rudyard Kipling is my favorite poem, and my favorite poet would have to be... Shakespeare.
Posted by LiNeY on Jul. 23 2001,15:34
Dylan Thomas. And Shakespeare, of course.
Posted by t|nt|n on Jul. 23 2001,16:28
quote:
Originally posted by LiNeY:
Dylan Thomas.......

That guy rules, my dad has loads of his stuff, it rocks


Posted by The_Stomper on Jul. 23 2001,18:38
"The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe.

That poem 0wnz. And for a poem to 0wn, it's gotta be fucking amazing.


Posted by Vigilante on Jul. 23 2001,19:59
Once again, Stomper calls it like it is.

I'm also partial to Poe's Annabel Lee.


Posted by Dark Knight Bob on Jul. 23 2001,20:32
pam ayres is some fubar poet

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Is it just me or does WWF look 10 times more entertaining when playing the benny hill music in the background.


Posted by shifter on Jul. 23 2001,21:04
I'm not a big fan of romantic poetry and all of that. Sort of boring. I find prime-time media broadcast live-via-sattelite in true-to-life-color to be much more exciting.
Posted by Crafty Butcher on Jul. 24 2001,15:31
quote:
Originally posted by Dark Knight Bob:
pam ayres is some fubar poet


someone, somewhere in England is laughing like a goat in a cement mixer...and it's probably me...pam ayres...(mutter)

edit: i'm a crap bastard

This message has been edited by Crafty Butcher on July 25, 2001 at 10:34 AM


Posted by [liquid] meta on Jul. 24 2001,16:10
I don't have a favorite poet or poem really. I like deep stuff that you have to read a few times to understand. You know, the kind you can sit back and reflect on.
Posted by j0eSmith on Jul. 24 2001,17:07
I'm with Stomper and Vigilante on this one. Poe just kicks ass.

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When my flying days are over, and my death has come to pass
I hope they bury me upside down, so the whole damn world can kiss my ass


Posted by damien_s_lucifer on Jul. 25 2001,04:50
Mine would have to be < The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. > Here is a sample :

quote:
Originally posted by T_S_Eliot:
I grow old . . .I grow old . . .
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.


He understands.


Posted by TheTaxMan on Jul. 25 2001,12:57
More or less the only poetry is something I or someone I know writes. I don't know why that is, but if I had to pick someone known I guess it would be (can we pick song writers?) Paul Simon.

Anyhow, here is something of mine, enjoy.

A silent strum, muted by the coy,
Choosing hand of fate.
Plucking perfectly, dream a song,
A ballad. It isn't there.
Fumble with, a chord or two,
Picking up those notes, it laughs at you.

And still I sit, alone and tired,
In the dark, the cold.
Blasting out, a tremelo, virbrato,
It doesn't work, again I lose.
The guitar cries, it sings to me,
But still I cannot make those lines be.

Alone and tired, I sit at wit's end,
And that hand again,
Slaps me, in the face, stinging pain,
It burns my heart, eyes unseeing.
Drop the chords, that stringed-blade,
Can't make them be, they won't be made.

Still sitting here, alone, so far
Away from all, those troubles.
And still so far, All those lovely things
Can't come within, miss them, grasping.
Darkness seethes, I gasp for air,
Alone cold and tired, the silence blares.

I return again, that hand still
Cocked back, ready to strike.
The foul rolls off, my tongue and fingers
And they play, how they play,
A song of lonesome, heart, mind, soul,
But still I'm left, alone, tired, and cold.

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Delusions of Grandeur? I am Grand!


Posted by Pickle Therapy Lady on Jul. 26 2001,23:21
DAMN THIS THREAD!!! Robert Frost...my absolute fave. Then I had to look through some to find a favorite poem/short story and damn if I didn't get sucked in! I think Birches, Barn Burning, and The Road Less Traveled are my original favorites but I just finished re-reading Mending Wall and that was fitting for my current state of mind so I am currently taking partiality to that 1. Damn this lit topic.
*rubbing hands together greedily*
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