Favourite lines of poetry/verse?

[Rushmore]

[ QUOTE ]
The more I think about it, the more I think Rushmore and I are the same person, a few years apart. Except one of us is a bit more wealthy.

The Hollow Men was my favorite poem in college... might still be. I did a musical setting of it in my senior thesis that was probably the best piece of music I wrote. Wish I could hear that played again.

Anyway, it's a criminal shame that we've made it so far in this thread without some Bukowski. Here's a later work:


[/ QUOTE ]

I consider that a compliment, sir.

And yes, absolutely, Bukowski cannot be passed over in this thread. When I first started reading Bukowski in the 80's, my initial reaction was that it was a little gimmicky. The poems were obviously very free of restriction, and I assumed this was the appeal that most readers were attracted to.

But when you look further, he's brilliant, and certainly not to be overlooked here.

In many ways, I cannot help but think of Raymond Carver when I read Bukowski. Obviously, Carver's forte was stories (which is not to say that I don't re-read Erections, Exhibitions, etc. every two years or so), but there is much of the same sentiment, and masterfully crafted. They obviously had the booze in common, but that's not what does it.

If you love Bukowski's stuff, and you haven't read Carver's stories, you really should.

P.S. I didn't know you were wealthy.

[diebitter]

THE GOOD-MORROW.
by John Donne

I WONDER by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved ? were we not wean'd till then ?
But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly ?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den ?
'Twas so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be ;
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

[bosoxfan]

Think that beauty will not stay
With you always, but away,
And that tyrannizing face
That now holds such perfect grace
Will both changed and ruined be;
So frail is all things as we see,

[mackthefork]

[ QUOTE ]
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on"

[/ QUOTE ]

Kipling's bankroll management was awful, well known fact.

Mack

[codewarrior]

Blake, from America: a Prophecy

The morning comes, the night decays, the watchmen leave their
stations;
The grave is burst, the spices shed, the linen wrapped up;
The bones of death, the cov'ring clay, the sinews shrunk & dry'd,
Reviving shake, inspiring move, breathing! awakening!
Spring like redeemed captives when their bonds & bars are burst.
Let the slave grinding at the mill run out into the field:
Let him look up into the heavens & laugh in the bright air;
Let the inchained soul shut up in darkness and in sighing,
Whose face has never seen a smile in thirty weary years,
Rise and look out; his chains are loose, his dungeon doors are open.
And let his wife and children return from the opressor's scourge.
They look behind at every step & believe it is a dream,
Singing, 'The Sun has left his blackness, & has found a fresher
morning
And the fair Moon rejoices in the clear & cloudless night;
For Empire is no more, and now the Lion & Wolf shall cease.

[samjjones]

Of course one should not have to remind
That Busey is unfairly maligned
Eyes show menace beneath
With his great giant teeth
And he's totally out of his mind

[daryn]

Her bouquet cleaved his hardened shell.
And fondled his muscled heart.
He embibed her glistening spell...
just before the other shoe...fell.

[Scotch78]

Town of the Sound of a Twig Breaking
from The Life of Towns
by Anne Carson




Their faces I thought were knives.
The way they pointed them at me.
And waited.
A hunter is someone who listens.
So hard to his prey it pulls the weapon.
Out of his hand and impales.
Itself.

Scott

[Cumulonimbus]

One stanza from The Waking by Theordore Roethke, featured in the book Dreamweaver and Slaughterhouse Five, I believe...



This shaking keeps me steady, I should know.
What falls away is always, and is near.
I wake to sleep and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

Don't turn around, oh oh..
DerKomissar's in town, oh oh.