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What is your fave poem?


Asked by SweetLoveofMine at 12:04 AM on Feb. 12, 2011 in Just for Fun

Level 29 (40,610 Credits)
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Answers (8)
  • Either "Dream Within a Dream" by Edgar Allan Poe or "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes. I have lots and lots of others I like as well...don't find many poetry fans these days.

    Answer by vicesix at 6:18 AM on Feb. 12, 2011

  • Langston Hughes, 'A Dream Deferred' (from which the title of the play 'A Raisin in the Sun' is taken:

    What happens to a dream deferred?

    Does it dry up
    like a raisin in the sun?
    Or fester like a sore--
    And then run?
    Does it stink like rotten meat?
    Or crust and sugar over--
    like a syrupy sweet?

    Maybe it just sags
    like a heavy load.

    Or does it explode?


    Answer by tigrefan98 at 12:21 AM on Feb. 12, 2011

  • MommaClark3

    Answer by MommaClark3 at 12:42 AM on Feb. 12, 2011

  • I can't read!!! Jk it is the divine comedy.

    Answer by WARNING at 1:32 AM on Feb. 12, 2011

  • Fernhill by Dylan Thomas.

    Answer by janet116 at 1:34 AM on Feb. 12, 2011

  • Robert Lowell, To Speak of Woe that is in Marriage

    "It is the future generation that presses into being by means of
    these exuberant feelings and supersensible soap bubbles of ours."
    - Schopenhauer

    "The hot night makes us keep our bedroom windows open.
    Our magnolia blossoms. Life begins to happen.
    My hopped up husband drops his home disputes,
    and hits the streets to cruise for prostitutes,
    free-lancing out along the razor's edge.
    This screwball might kill his wife, then take the pledge.
    Oh the monotonous meanness of his lust. . .
    It's the injustice . . . he is so unjust--
    whiskey-blind, swaggering home at five.
    My only thought is how to keep alive.
    What makes him tick? Each night now I tie
    ten dollars and his car key to my thigh. . . .
    Gored by the climacteric of his want,
    he stalls above me like an elephant."


    Answer by SWasson at 8:13 AM on Feb. 12, 2011

  • Phenomenal Woman - Maya Angelou (this is only part of it)

    Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
    I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
    But when I start to tell them,
    They think I'm telling lies.
    I say,
    It's in the reach of my arms
    The span of my hips,
    The stride of my step,
    The curl of my lips.
    I'm a woman
    Phenomenal woman,
    That's me.

    Answer by Bubbie0809 at 9:54 AM on Feb. 12, 2011

  • They said I was a loon
    so I hit them with a spoon

    They called the law
    So I hit them with a saw


    Answer by lstrickland at 12:25 PM on Feb. 12, 2011