Join the Meeting Place for Moms!
Talk to other moms, share advice, and have fun!

(minimum 6 characters)

2 Bumps

I love poetry - what is your favorite poem?

 
tasches

Asked by tasches at 6:51 PM on Aug. 4, 2010 in Just for Fun

Level 48 (298,202 Credits)
This question is closed.
Answers (9)
  • As the Mist Leaves No Scar
    By: Leonard Cohen


    As the mist leaves no scar
    On the dark green hill,
    So my body leaves no scar
    On you, nor ever will.

    When wind and hawk encounter
    What remains to keep?
    So you and I encounter
    Then turn, then fall to sleep.

    As many nights endure
    Without a moon or star,
    So will we endure
    When one is gone and far.
    desert_diva

    Answer by desert_diva at 8:56 PM on Aug. 4, 2010

  • I love lots, but the one that sticks with me is Crossing the Bar by Alfred Lord Tennyson. It was on the little hand out thing at my grandpa's funeral when I was a kid and the line "I hope to see my pilot face to face when I have crossed the bar" just stuck with me all these years. Probably because I'm a big beach bum and Grandpa's girl. :)
    Jessica157

    Answer by Jessica157 at 6:56 PM on Aug. 4, 2010

  • Annabelle Lee by E.A.Poe.

    But I really love just about anything by him! I have a small obsession with him.
    SabrinaMBowen

    Answer by SabrinaMBowen at 7:16 PM on Aug. 4, 2010

  • anything by Edgar Allan Poe
    SwtSnowflake2

    Answer by SwtSnowflake2 at 6:52 PM on Aug. 4, 2010

  • i know this is a song but its the words mean a lot to me...when i was younger they did.

    Feel no pain, but my life ain't easy
    I know i'm my best friend
    No one cares, but i'm so much stronger
    I'll fight until the end
    To escape from the true false world
    Undamaged destiny
    Can't get caught in the endless circle
    Ring of stupidity

    Out of my own, out to be free
    One with my mind, they just can't see
    No need to hear things that they say
    Life is for my own to live my own way

    Rape my mind and destroy my feelings
    Don't tell me what to do
    I don't care now, 'cause i'm on my side
    And i can see through you
    Feed my brain with your so called standards
    Who says that i ain't right
    Break away from your common fashion
    See through your blurry sight


    See they try to bring the hammer down
    No damn chains can hold me to the ground
    Life is for
    shay1130

    Answer by shay1130 at 7:12 PM on Aug. 4, 2010

  • "Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night" Dylan Thomas
    jesse123456

    Answer by jesse123456 at 7:42 PM on Aug. 4, 2010

  • Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
    Would not take the garbage out!
    She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,
    Candy the yams and spice the hams,
    And though her daddy would scream and shout,
    She simply would not take the garbage out.
    And so it piled up to the ceilings:
    Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
    Brown bananas, rotten peas,
    Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
    It filled the can, it covered the floor,
    It cracked the window and blocked the door
    With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
    Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
    Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,
    Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
    Pizza crusts and withered greens,
    Soggy beans and tangerines,
    Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
    Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . .
    The garbage rolled on down the hall,
    It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . .
    Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
    Globs of gooey bubble gum,
    Cellophane
    blueeyedgrl2377

    Answer by blueeyedgrl2377 at 7:54 PM on Aug. 4, 2010

  • Rubbery blubbery macaroni,
    Peanut butter, caked and dry,
    Curdled milk and crusts of pie,
    Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,
    Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
    Cold french fried and rancid meat,
    Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
    At last the garbage reached so high
    That it finally touched the sky.
    And all the neighbors moved away,
    And none of her friends would come to play.
    And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,
    "OK, I'll take the garbage out!"
    But then, of course, it was too late. . .
    The garbage reached across the state,
    From New York to the Golden Gate.
    And there, in the garbage she did hate,
    Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
    That I cannot now relate
    Because the hour is much too late.
    But children, remember Sarah Stout
    And always take the garbage out!
    blueeyedgrl2377

    Answer by blueeyedgrl2377 at 7:54 PM on Aug. 4, 2010

  • Anne Sexton, she was a great poet
    tamithy

    Answer by tamithy at 9:47 PM on Aug. 4, 2010