Post your favorite poem(s)

[Jessica]

Numbers

by Mary Cornish

I like the generosity of numbers.
The way, for example,
they are willing to count
anything or anyone:
two pickles, one door to the room,
eight dancers dressed as swans.

I like the domesticity of addition--
add two cups of milk and stir--
the sense of plenty: six plums
on the ground, three more
falling from the tree.

And multiplication's school
of fish times fish,
whose silver bodies breed
beneath the shadow
of a boat.

Even subtraction is never loss,
just addition somewhere else:
five sparrows take away two,
the two in someone else's
garden now.

There's an amplitude to long division,
as it opens Chinese take-out
box by paper box,
inside every folded cookie
a new fortune.

And I never fail to be surprised
by the gift of an odd remainder,
footloose at the end:
forty-seven divided by eleven equals four,
with three remaining.

Three boys beyond their mothers' call,
two Italians off to the sea,
one sock that isn't anywhere you look.

[María José]

Thanks for the info, Rusty

[bmarquis124]

wow..together we managed to make rusty rotfl and blush in the same thread...it's amazing

[Planet hopper]

Ok, here it goes, it may not be my favourite, but it's fresh baked, I wrote it yesterday night, my new desk is my new laptop:


Mi nueva mesa de trabajo.





El todo terreno se pierde entre las dunas
Volviendo a ganar por esta vez.
El mar se encuentra con el desierto
Al borde de mi cama, enorme y vacia,
Llena tan solo de mis propias victorias.



Aprendo maneras nuevas de celebrar
De ver pasar los dias que faltan para verte
Mi nueva mesa digital acaricia las yemas de mis dedos
Y mi corazon fluye como nunca lo hizo antes

Se cierra un ciclo, desaparece
La falta de esperanza, la destruccion

Y los dias caen como petalos de margarita
Esperando que vengas a recoger lo que es tuyo
Felicidad, cariño, justicia,
Aquellas cosas que siempre nos merecimos.


Y doy gracias al cielo y a la tierra
Por mis piernas, por mis dedos,
Por mis amigos y mis enemigos.

Te espero, no tardes,
el helado aqui se derrite pronto y nos queda mucha vida que compartir....

[Rusty]

Poema fresco, libre y tentador. ¡Me gustó!

[Planet hopper]

Grasias

[Jessica]

Originally Posted by Planet hopper

Grasias

Should it be spelled Gracias ?

[Planet hopper]

You may spell words to resemble the accent of the person speaking, taking that you are in an informal situation. Language is life, so it can't be academic and formal all the time or it gets boring. I thought everybody here would know the way to spell gracias, so I spelled it the andalusian way to convey familiarity.

[lee ying]

como amigo te conoci
como amigo te hable
perdoname que te lo diga
pero de ti me enamore.

[sosia]

Juanita, in "Puebla de las mujeres " (Hermanos Quintero)
"Al hombre yo le comparo
con un barquito de vela
y a la mujer con el aire,
que a donde quiere lo lleva"
"A man is for me like a little sailboat, and the woman is like the wind, wich carry him wherever she likes"
Saludos

[Jessica]

Originally Posted by Planet hopper

You may spell words to resemble the accent of the person speaking, taking that you are in an informal situation. Language is life, so it can't be academic and formal all the time or it gets boring. I thought everybody here would know the way to spell gracias, so I spelled it the andalusian way to convey familiarity.

oh ok.

[Sancho Panther]

First I have to say that I don't really like poetry much, so the only ones that appeal to me are the truly powerfully emotional ones. I will post a couple more if you wish, but don't expect lightweight comedy!

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

If you are not moved by this - feel your veins for a pulse, you might be dead!

[Jessica]

wow I'm really moved by that poem. I love it.

[Jessica]

Hey Bug!

Hey, bug, stay!
Don't run away.
I know a game that we can play.

I'll hold my fingers very still
and you can climb a finger-hill.

No, no.
Don't go.

Here's a wall--a tower too,
a tiny bug town, just for you.
I've a cookie. You have some.
Take this oatmeal cookie crumb.

Hey, bug, stay!
Hey, bug!
Hey!

by Lilian Moore



BEETLE

Shining Japanese beetle
eating the rose,
how your wings
glisten
like a small rainbow
in the sun!

by Charlotte Zolotow

[Sancho Panther]

Another that brought tears to my eyes - in memory of Republican Volunteers fallen in the Spanish Civil War.

MASA

Al fin de la batalla,
Y muerto el combatiente, vino hacia él un hombre
Y le dijo: “No mueras, te amo tánto!”
Pero el cadáver ¡ay! siguió muriendo.

Se le acercaron dos y repitiéronle:
“No nos dejes! ¡Valor! ¡Vuelve a la vida!”
Pero el cadáver ¡ay! siguió muriendo.

Acudieron a él veinte, cien, mil, quinientos mil,
Clamando: “Tánto amor, y no poder nada contra la muerte!”
Pero el cadáver ¡ay! siguió muriendo.

Le rodearon millones de individuos,
Con un ruego común: “¡Quédate hermano!”
Pero el cadáver ¡ay! siguió muriendo.

Entonces, todos los hombres de la tierra
Le rodearon; les vio el cadáver triste, emocionado;
Incorporóse lentamente,
Abrazó al primer hombre; echóse a andar . . .

César Vallejo

[Rusty]

Sí, muy bello. El amar al prójimo siempre vencerá.

[MainePotsAndPans]

I Knew a Woman

I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I'd have them sing in a chorus, cheek to cheek).

How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and Stand;
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin;
I nibbled meekly from her proferred hand;
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing we did make).

Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant notes to sieze;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved).

Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:
I'm martyr to a motion not my own;
What's freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways).

Theodore Roethke
source:
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-knew-a-woman/

Uno de mis mas favorito. Cuando yo cortéle me esposa, este fui uno de mis ponzocortantes mas eficaz.

[Jessica]

wow what a poem!

[MainePotsAndPans]

John Donne: from A Valediction Forbidding Mourning

A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING.
by John Donne

AS virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."

So let us melt, and make no noise, 5
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ;
Men reckon what it did, and meant ; 10
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers' love
—Whose soul is sense—cannot admit
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove 15
The thing which elemented it.

But we by a love so much refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assurèd of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss. 20

Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so 25
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam, 30
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just, 35
And makes me end where I begun.


Source:
http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/donne/mourning.php
Donne, John. Poems of John Donne. vol I.
E. K. Chambers, ed.
London, Lawrence & Bullen, 1896. 51-52.


Un otra en la armería de amor.

y a hecho la batería completa:


John Milton: from Paradise Lost: Book IX

Thus Eve with Countnance blithe her storie told;
But in her Cheek distemper flushing glowd.
On th' other side, Adam, soon as he heard
The fatal Trespass don by Eve, amaz'd,
Astonied stood and Blank, while horror chill
Ran through his veins, and all his joynts relax'd;
From his slack hand the Garland wreath'd for Eve
Down drop'd, and all the faded Roses shed:
Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at length
First to himself he inward silence broke.
O fairest of Creation, last and best
Of all Gods Works, Creature in whom excell'd
Whatever can to fight or thought be found,
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!
900How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost,
Defac't, deflourd, and now to Death devote?

...
And mee with thee hath ruind, for with thee
Certain my resolution is to Die;
How can I live without thee, how forgoe
Thy sweet Converse and Love so dearly joyn'd,
To live again in these wilde Woods forlorn?
Should God create another Eve, and I
Another Rib afford, yet loss of thee
Would never from my heart; no no, I feel
The Link of Nature draw me: Flesh of Flesh,
Bone of my Bone thou art, and from thy State
Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.

Source:http://darkwing.uoregon.edu/~rbear/lost/pl8.html

[MainePotsAndPans]

¿Y la resultura de todo sana y saña?

Me marido escribío esta poesía antes de la primero cena que yo te cociné.

Dinner and a Movie 5/3/98

Kiwi smiles scent lemon penne pasta, green beans garnish
The radiant warmth of your patient love.
Sipping supper and chardonnay, drinking deep passion,
Tasting the bright possibility that grows between us.
As the splendid sun sets, the moon shines;
In Spring cycles, the world revolves around us,
Reflecting God’s promise, His benediction.

I didn’t know delight could exhaust my senses so.
Your arms envelope me, nourish my soul
Awakening from a decade’s restless sleep.



Este yo aprendí a la universidad, y se tiene una lugar especial en mi corazon, porque como Judas, mi abuelo él se desempadronó, y me gusta a creer que como Judas en el poema, él se levanta al cielo en la fuerza de su humanidad y compasión durante su vivo, y no él se condenó por la mannera de su muerte.


Saint Judas
by James Wright


When I went out to kill myself, I caught
A pack of hoodlums beating up a man.
Running to spare his suffering, I forgot
My name, my number, how my day began,
How soldiers milled around the garden stone
And sang amusing songs; how all that day
Their javelins measured crowds; how I alone
Bargained the proper coins, and slipped away.

Banished from heaven, I found this victim beaten,
Stripped, kneed, and left to cry. Dropping my rope
Aside, I ran, ignored the uniforms:
Then I remembered bread my flesh had eaten,
The kiss that ate my flesh. Flayed without hope,
I held the man for nothing in my arms.

James Wright


source:

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/saint-judas