Favourite lines of poetry/verse?

[SheetWise]

[ QUOTE ]
You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time.
The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line.
And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are
and take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars.
And you wonder who to call on.
-
Jethro Tull - Thick As A Brick


[/ QUOTE ]

Backstroke lover always hidin' 'neath the covers
Till I talked to your daddy he say
He said you ain't seen nothin' till you're down on a muffin
Then you're sure to be a changin' your ways
I met a cheerleader was a real young bleeder
Oh the times I could reminisce
'Cause the best things of lovin' with her sister and her cousin
Only started with a little kiss
Like this

in just-

in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame baloonman

whistles far and wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer
old baloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it's
spring
and

the

goat-footed

baloonMan whistles
far
and
wee

[vulturesrow]

Lately Ive really gotten into the work of Rainer Maria Rilke. Here is one that is one of my favorites so far.

Love Song


How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin's bow,
which draws one voice out of two seperate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.

Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
the droghte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halve cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open ye
(So priketh hem nature in hir corages);
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;
And specially from every shires ende
Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.

[pryor15]

[ QUOTE ]
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (first two stanzas)
By T.S. Eliot

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question...
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

[/ QUOTE ]


I am no prophet--and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

[pryor15]

Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note
by Amiri Baraka


Lately, I've become accustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelopes me
Each time I go out to walk the dog.
Or the broad edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for a bus...

Things have come to that.

And now, each night I count the stars.
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted,
I count the holes they leave.

Nobody sings anymore.

And then last night I tiptoed up
To my daughter's room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there...
Only she on her knees, peeking into

Her own clasped hands

[Mangatang]

Hold fast to dreams.
For if dreams die,
Life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams.
For if dreams go,
Life is a barron field, covered with snow.


My 10th grade English teacher made us memorize this poem, and she said that we would never forget the words. We were all like, "Bull [censored]. No way we will remember this crap."

Now, sixteen years later, and I still can't delete it from my memory.

[mikech]

it's impossible to name a "favorite" for this, there's just too many, but here's a stanza i've always loved:


Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

[Blarg]

Definitely one of my favorite poems.