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 Post Post subject: Favourite poems
Posted: Sun Apr 14, 2013 7:29 pm 
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I have been reading some poetry lately and thought I would share a short one that I enjoyed. I know that poetry is one of those things that some people love and some people really don't ;) but I've usually found myself more in the middle. I didn't mind most of the poetry that I read for assorted English classes over the years, but I wouldn't choose to read it on my own time. Recently, however, I've been reading some short poems and really enjoying them, courtesy of John Lithgow's poetry compilation "The Poets' Corner: The One-and-Only Poetry Book for the Whole Family" that I got a great deal on from amazon.ca.

This is a very short poem that I find funnier each time I read it!

Quote:
This Is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold


I can just picture somebody reading this totally unapologetic note. The poem is so short, but to me, so funny. I can imagine how I would feel if I had been the one on the receiving end of such a note, and it isn't a pretty picture. ;)

I wouldn't call this the best poem of all time, but it is one that I really enjoyed reading. Does anybody else have some favourites?

(Reminder: if you're sharing somebody else's work, make sure to give them credit for it by name, and also use quote tags!)

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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Sun Apr 14, 2013 7:41 pm 
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Poetry is great. I've been reading Wordsworth and Dickinson lately, and I found this awesome three-volume collection of English poetry in the basement that I've been going through.

One of Wordsworth's that I really like is 'Ode on Intimations of Immortality....' which is kind of long but I'll post it anyway.

Quote:
Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

by William Wordsworth

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

The rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the rose;
The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong.
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep,--
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong:
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng.
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every beast keep holiday;--
Thou child of joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Shepherd-boy!

Ye blesséd Creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.
O evil day! if I were sullen
While Earth herself is adorning
This sweet May-morning;
And the children are culling
On every side
In a thousand valleys far and wide
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm:--
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
--But there's a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look'd upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting
And cometh from afar;
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature's priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.

Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with something of a mother's mind,
And no unworthy aim,
The homely nurse doth all she can
To make her foster-child, her inmate, Man,
Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came.

Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years' darling of a pigmy size!
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
With light upon him from his father's eyes!
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself with newly-learned art;
A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral;
And this hath now his heart,
And unto this he frames his song:
Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
But it will not be long
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
The little actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage'
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
That life brings with her in her equipage;
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.

Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy soul's immensity;
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal Mind,--
Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
On whom those truths rest
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave,
A Presence which is not to be put by;
To whom the grave
Is but a lonely bed, without the sense of sight
Of day or the warm light,
A place of thoughts where we in waiting lie;
Thou little child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
0 joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live,
That Nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest,
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:--
--Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise;
But for those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings,
Blank misgivings of a creature
Moving about in worlds not realized,
High instincts, before which our mortal nature
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day,
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing;
Uphold us--cherish--and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
To perish never;
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor man nor boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence, in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither;
Can in a moment travel thither--
And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

Then, sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound!
We, in thought, will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

And 0, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquish'd one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway;
I love the brooks which down their channels fret
Even more than when I tripp'd lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born day
Is lovely yet;
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmM ... bs2xi.dpuf


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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Sun Apr 14, 2013 8:38 pm 
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I'm sort of like you, Catspaw, not exactly a fan of poetry, but I don't mind it either. \:D/

How about this one, sweet and simple. :inlove:

Quote:
Algy Met a Bear, by Ogden Nash

Algy met a bear.
The bear was bulgy.
The bulge was Algy.


Or Jabberwocky! \:D/

Quote:
Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll

'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 hast 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.



Okay, so they're both nonsense poems, but they're catchy. ;) I like some more serious poems too, but they aren't coming to mind right now. :-

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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Mon Apr 15, 2013 6:29 am 
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'The Termite', Ogden Nash wrote:
Some primal Termite knocked on wood
And tasted it, and found it good!
And that is why your cousin May
Fell through the parlor floor today.


'I'm Nobody!', Emily Dickinson wrote:
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

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Last edited by Termite on Mon Apr 15, 2013 6:31 am, edited 3 times in total.

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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Mon Apr 15, 2013 7:39 am 
i haz xpirenancee!!1
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@ric--we've been going through Wordsworth's works in class, and we had to read that poem too. We read several of his sonnets as well, and I liked a lot of them.

I have too many favorites to post, so I'll just post a few \:D/

Dust of Snow, by Robert Frost:

Quote:
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.


Ozymandius, by Percy Bysshe Shelly

Quote:
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert... Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
My name is Ozymandius, King of Kings,
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.


Apostrophe to the Ocean, CLXXIX, from Childe Harold's Pilgrimages, by Lord Byron

Quote:
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with ruin--his control
Stops with the shore;--upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,
When for a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.


I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud, by William Wordsworth

Quote:
I wandered lonely as a Cloud
That floats on high o'er Vales and Hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd
A host of dancing Daffodils;
Along the Lake, beneath the trees,
Ten thousand dancing in the breeze.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee: --
A poet could not but be gay
In such a laughing company:
I gaz'd--and gaz'd--but little thought
What wealth the shew to me had brought:

For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the Daffodils.


. .and far too many more to put here :p

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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Mon Apr 15, 2013 11:32 am 
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Oh my gosh - I detest poetry so much! I don’t even know why, because I would think I could just be indifferent about it, but no I actively hate it.
But there are actually a small handful of poems I can tolerate, and a few I actually like.

This is my favorite poem. It was read between campaigns in a Medal of Honor game and I was really taken with it. I like the rhythm and the sound, and just everything really.
The Hour Is Go, Francis J. Turner wrote:
One's eyes close tight and families fade,
When going to war which other men made.
Though anxious and frightened, we don't let it show.
For the day is approaching, when the Airborne must go.

Each day now rolls past, we wait just the same.
But D-Day is near, and for this we all came.
The hour grows near, each man feels it inside,
And soon we'll be falling, with nowhere to hide.

Our eyes are now down and the chatter the same.
Each weapon now loaded, no longer a game.
Eagles gather round and bow yours heads low.
Europe awaits, and the hour is go.

Planes rumble past as we wait our turn,
To fly over waters we have yet to earn.
Checked buckles and straps, left nothing to chance.
The jumpmaster stands, calls "Welcome to France!"

Flak turns to fire in the blackest of night.
Too low, too fast, can't jump from this height.
There's no turning back, the risk has been taken.
Freefall to Hell... paratroopers forsaken.

Eagles hold tight, scattered prayers to survive,
We'll hit the ground soon, whether dead or alive.
As feet touch the ground, each soldier moves on.
Confusion and fear are beaten and gone.

The enemy is close and sad they don't know,
The Airborne is here... it's time they must go.
The hour is now, Hitler's had his last chance.
On St. Michael's wings, we're taking back France.
Here is the reading:

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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Mon Apr 15, 2013 5:10 pm 
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Marvin D. wrote:
@ric--we've been going through Wordsworth's works in class, and we had to read that poem too. We read several of his sonnets as well, and I liked a lot of them.
Awesome.

My poetry section kind of sucks. Reading poetry for school is always less enjoyable. :(

Another one I really like is "The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock" by T. S. Eliot.

bookworm wrote:
Oh my gosh - I detest poetry so much! I don’t even know why, because I would think I could just be indifferent about it, but no I actively hate it.
Hmmm. Why do you hate it?


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Posted: Wed Apr 17, 2013 8:31 pm 
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I would never sit down with a book of poetry to read, but I've come across some poems that I really like.

For some reason I've always liked The Tyger, by William Blake. I first read it when I was about eight, and I memorized the first parts of it. I guess I just like the rhythm of it or something, I'm not sure. :)

Quote:
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?



Another poem I love is a poem called Heaven's Very Special Child , which I googled, and found that it was written by Edna Massionilla.


Quote:
A meeting was held quite far from Earth!
It's time again for another birth.
Said the Angels to the LORD above,
This Special Child will need much love.

His progress may be very slow,
Accomplishments he may not show.
And he'll require extra care
From the folks he meets down there.

He may not run or laugh or play,
His thoughts may seem quite far away,
In many ways he won't adapt,
And he'll be known as handicapped.

So let's be careful where he's sent,
We want his life to be content.
Please LORD, find the parents who
Will do a special job for you.

They will not realize right away
The leading role they're asked to play,
But with this child sent from above
Comes stronger faith and richer love.

And soon they'll know the privilege given
In caring for their gift from Heaven.
Their precious charge, so meek and mild,
Is HEAVEN'S VERY SPECIAL CHILD



Catspaw, I read the poem you posted several times, and you're right, it does seem to get funnier every time I read it! :)

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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Thu Apr 18, 2013 3:51 pm 
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ric wrote:
bookworm wrote:
Oh my gosh - I detest poetry so much! I don’t even know why, because I would think I could just be indifferent about it, but no I actively hate it.
Hmmm. Why do you hate it?
Is that not addressed in the quote you quoted?

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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Tue Apr 30, 2013 5:32 am 
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I don't really like poetry but I did enjoy "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe when I read it for lit class :)

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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Wed May 01, 2013 8:33 am 
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cellogirl wrote:
I don't really like poetry but I did enjoy "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe when I read it for lit class :)

So you do like poetry. The Raven = poetry. You like The Raven = You like poetry. Logic, my friend. \:D/


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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Fri May 03, 2013 5:50 pm 
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ric wrote:
cellogirl wrote:
I don't really like poetry but I did enjoy "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe when I read it for lit class :)

So you do like poetry. The Raven = poetry. You like The Raven = You like poetry. Logic, my friend. \:D/

Looking at it a little differently, The Raven = a poem. You like The Raven = you like a poem. It's possible to not like poetry in general but to like one poem in particular.

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Posted: Fri May 03, 2013 6:50 pm 
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Catspaw wrote:
ric wrote:
cellogirl wrote:
I don't really like poetry but I did enjoy "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe when I read it for lit class :)

So you do like poetry. The Raven = poetry. You like The Raven = You like poetry. Logic, my friend. \:D/

Looking at it a little differently, The Raven = a poem. You like The Raven = you like a poem. It's possible to not like poetry in general but to like one poem in particular.

Yes, well my syllogism was deliberately fallacious. ;)


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Posted: Fri May 03, 2013 9:58 pm 
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ric wrote:
Catspaw wrote:
ric wrote:
cellogirl wrote:
I don't really like poetry but I did enjoy "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe when I read it for lit class :)

So you do like poetry. The Raven = poetry. You like The Raven = You like poetry. Logic, my friend. \:D/

Looking at it a little differently, The Raven = a poem. You like The Raven = you like a poem. It's possible to not like poetry in general but to like one poem in particular.

Yes, well my syllogism was deliberately fallacious. ;)

I think that people should be able to post without people telling them they're wrong for the other person's own amusement. I was going to use a smiley face, but I'm really not kidding, so I didn't.


I was doing some cleaning and found a poem that I had photocopied with the intention of sharing it with somebody, and of course I thought of this thread! \:D/

Quote:
"Days" by Philip Larkin


What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

Philip Larkin, “Days” from Collected Poems.

I love the image that the end of the poem brings. :lol: The poem can be very deep, if you take the time to contemplate what our days are really for, but it has that great ending that adds a touch of humour.

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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Sun May 05, 2013 6:35 pm 
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I had no intention of making fun of cellogirl or telling her she was wrong, so if I came off that way, I apologize.

Honestly though, anyone who enjoys "The Raven" is like my instant friend. \:D/


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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Sun May 05, 2013 8:36 pm 
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ric wrote:
I had no intention of making fun of cellogirl or telling her she was wrong, so if I came off that way, I apologize.

Honestly though, anyone who enjoys "The Raven" is like my instant friend. \:D/

Sorry, I misunderstood your comments, then. That's the way it seemed to me, but if you say otherwise, then I will take you as the authority on your own intentions. :)

It's like poetry - so much depends upon the interpretation of the words on the page, and sometimes the reader's thoughts vary from those of the author!

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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Mon May 06, 2013 1:19 pm 
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well yeah I guess the way I could put it is like this: There are very few poems I like but I do like "The Raven" :)

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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Mon May 06, 2013 5:22 pm 
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I love most any poetry. I really like Robert Louis Stevenson, though. He has always been one of my favorites. I also like Robert Frost.


Though, I enjoy writing it more than reading it. (Even if my poems aren't very good. Haha.) I haven't shown many people my poetry, though. . .

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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Tue May 07, 2013 7:19 am 
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Poetry for me is divided into two categories:

1. Poetry I absolutely detest
2. Poetry I actually don't dislike, and may even mildly enjoy, but instantly forget after I finish reading the poem.

I am a pitiful poem-reader. :(

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 Post Post subject: Re: Favourite poems
Posted: Tue May 07, 2013 5:35 pm 
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Samantha14 wrote:
I love most any poetry. I really like Robert Louis Stevenson, though. He has always been one of my favorites. I also like Robert Frost.


Though, I enjoy writing it more than reading it. (Even if my poems aren't very good. Haha.) I haven't shown many people my poetry, though. . .

You should post some in the Inventor's Corner sometime. I'm sure it's great. \:D/

T.S. (myself) wrote:
Poetry for me is divided into two categories:

1. Poetry I absolutely detest
2. Poetry I actually don't dislike, and may even mildly enjoy, but instantly forget after I finish reading the poem.

I am a pitiful poem-reader. :(

:(

I thought perhaps your namesake was T. S. Eliot, a well-known poet.


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