What Poetry Moved You?

[Itto Ogami]

todo pasa y todo queda

pero lo nuestro es pasar

pasar haciendo caminos

caminos sobre la mar.

 

-joan manuel serrat

 

saw this posted @ one of the coaches of LRT2

[Leyna]

Mad Girl’s Love Song by Sylvia Plath

 

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;

I lift my lids and all is born again.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

 

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,

And arbitrary blackness gallops in:

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

 

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed

And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

 

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:

Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

 

I fancied you’d return the way you said,

But I grow old and I forget your name.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

 

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;

At least when spring comes they roar back again.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)”

 

- one of my favorites <3

[ZO9zaa]

Dreams

(by Langston Hughes)

 

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow

[Itto Ogami]

todo pasa y todo queda

pero lo nuestro es pasar

pasar haciendo caminos

caminos sobre la mar.

 

-joan manuel serrat

 

saw this posted @ one of the coaches of LRT2

 

lahat ay dadaan at lahat ay maiiwan

ngunit lahat ay dadaan

dadaang gumagawa ng daanan

daanan sa ibabaw ng karagatan

[Guest biancaanne]

Here Is A Wound That Never Will Heal, I Know

 

 

Here is a wound that never will heal, I know,

 

Being wrought not of a dearness and a death,

 

But of a love turned ashes and the breath

 

Gone out of beauty; never again will grow

 

The grass on that scarred acre, though I sow

 

Young seed there yearly and the sky bequeath

 

Its friendly weathers down, far Underneath

 

Shall be such bitterness of an old woe.

 

That April should be shattered by a gust,

 

That August should be levelled by a rain,

 

I can endure, and that the lifted dust

 

Of man should settle to the earth again;

 

But that a dream can die, will be a thrust

 

Between my ribs forever of hot pain.

 

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

Edited March 16, 2010 by biancaanne

[lemon]

it's all i have to bring today

this, and my heart beside

this, and my heart, and all the fields

and all the meadows wide

be sure you count – should i forget

some one the sum could tell

this, and my heart, and all the bees

which in the clover dwell.

 

it's been a while since i posted one for you here... nope, not original, this one's from weird emily. :*

[Leyna]

I say that I won't touch you.

But my fingers are liars.

I tell you how I won't hold you.

But my arms are going to hell.

I promise I won't kiss you.

But my lips break it.

I let you know that I won't love you.

But my heart has no conscience.

 

And no part of me will apologise.

[Leyna]

I can follow your soul

in the curve and swerve of your skin

as my fingertips trace the flow of your blood

through limbs, so warm, and soft, and fragrant

that I barely (rarely) complete the tracery

for I must breathe and I dare not

while touching you

for fear that so heavy is my soul

that you would blow away

like dandelion seeds on the winds of twilight

which is when I most desire you

 

~ unknown

[ZO9zaa]

I Choose the Mountain

(by Howard Simon)

 

The low lands call

I am tempted to answer

They are offering me a free dwelling

Without having to conquer

 

The massive mountain makes its move

Beckoning me to ascend

A much more difficult path

To get up the slippery bend

 

I cannot choose both

I have a choice to make

I must be wise

This will determine my fate

 

I choose, I choose the mountain

With all its stress and strain

Because only by climbing

Can I rise above the plane

 

I choose the mountain

And I will never stop climbing

I choose the mountain

And I shall forever be ascending

 

I choose the mountain

[maniaclara]

i don't have this poem memorized, but it is by far the one poem that really caught my attention and moved me. it is from Leo Buscaglia's book entitled Living, Loving and Learning. here's to Michelle...

 

 

I Am Neither A Sacrilege Or A Privilege. I May Not Be Competent or Excellent, But I Am Present

 

My happiness is me, not you.

Not only because you may be temporary,

But also because you want me to be what I am not.

I cannot be happy when I change

Merely to satisfy your selfishness.

Nor can I feel content when you critize me for not

thinking your thoughts,

Or for seeing like you do.

You call me a rebel.

And yet each time I have rejected your beliefs

You have rebelled against mine.

I do not try to mold your mind.

I know you are trying hard enough to be just you.

And I cannot allow you to tell me what to be -

For I am concentrating on being me.

You said that I was transparent

And easily forgotten.

But why then did you try to use my lifetime,

To prove to yourself who you are?

[Leyna]

Remember, Body

by C. P. Cavafy

Translated by Aliki Barnstone

 

Body, remember not only how much you were loved,

not only the beds where you lay,

but also those desires for you,

shining clearly in eyes

and trembling in a voice—and some chance

obstacle thwarted them.

Now when everything is the past,

it almost looks as if you gave yourself

to those desires as well—how they shone—

remember—in the eyes that looked at you,

how they trembled for you in the voice—remember, body.

[Guest biancaanne]

A Better Ressurection

 

I have no wit, no words, no tears;

My heart within me like a stone

Is numbed too much for hopes or fears.

Look right, look left, I dwell alone;

I lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief

No everlasting hills I see;

My life is in the falling leaf:

O Jesus, quicken me.

 

My life is like a faded leaf,

My harvest dwindled to a husk:

Truly my life is void and brief

And tedious in the barren dusk;

My life is like a frozen thing,

No bud nor greenness can I see:

Yet rise it shall--the sap of spring;

O Jesus, rise in me.

 

My life is like a broken bowl,

A broken bowl that cannot hold

One drop of water for my soul

Or cordial in the searching cold;

Cast in the fire the perished thing;

Melt and remould it, till it be

A royal cup for Him, my King:

O Jesus, drink of me.

 

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Edited April 27, 2010 by biancaanne

[Guest biancaanne]

They Went Home

 

They went home and told their wives,

that never once in all their lives,

had they known a girl like me,

But... They went home.

 

They said my house was licking clean,

no word I spoke was ever mean,

I had an air of mystery,

But... They went home.

 

My praises were on all men's lips,

they liked my smile, my wit, my hips,

they'd spend one night, or two or three.

But...

 

Maya Angelou

[Itto Ogami]

DESIDERATA

Max Ehrmann (1920s)

 

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,

and remember what peace there may be in silence.

 

As far as possible, without surrender,

be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly;

and listen to others,

even to the dull and the ignorant;

they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons;

they are vexatious to the spirit.

 

If you compare yourself with others,

you may become vain or bitter,

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;

it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

 

Exercise caution in your business affairs,

for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;

many persons strive for high ideals,

and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.

Neither be cynical about love,

for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,

it is as perennial as the grass.

 

Take kindly the counsel of the years,

gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

 

Beyond a wholesome discipline,

be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe

no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

 

Therefore be at peace with God,

whatever you conceive Him to be.

And whatever your labors and aspirations,

in the noisy confusion of life,

keep peace in your soul.

 

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,

it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

[violetvixen17]

I posted this somewhere, damn I forgot where. Forgot the author too, but I memorized this one by heart years ago. It remain one of my favorites.

This one goes out to the forgotten soldiers out there who belong to another age, yet go about their duties here and now because it is not in them to do otherwise. May you recover the Shards of Eternity that are hidden within these blasted and broken mortal realms, and in putting these together, may you realize that victory is inevitable, even if it was not given to you to see it.

 

########################

 

Over the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole

I thank whatever Gods may be

for my unconquerable soul

 

In the fell clutch of Circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud

Under the bludgeonings of Chance

my head is bloody buy unbowed

 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

looms but the horrors of the Shade

Yet the menace of the years finds

and shall find me unafraid

 

It matters not how straight the gate

How charged with punishment the scroll

I am the master of my fate

I am the captain of my soul

 

#############################

 

Minemorize ko din yan nung high school. The title of the poem is Invictus by William Earnest Henley.

[violetvixen17]

Ung mga poems na memorable ay ung Don't Quit at Desiderata back in CAT days.. i have to memorize these poems by heart kundi lagot.. hehe

[Leyna]

I wonder if he knows

I wonder if he knows

how much I miss

him or if he knows

how many times my

thoughts will turn to

him during the day,

leaving a smile

on my face and

a glow from deep within

while my heart races

as memories seem

to flash, taking over my

mind leaving my skin

flushed and warm

to the touch,

my eyes suddenly

glisten bright

with tears as the sound

of his voice seems

to reach out to

me, caressing me,

soothing me, touching

my heart while breathing

life into my soul

in the way that only

he can

I wonder if he knows…

~M

[Lord Superb]

This is perhaps my favorite Bertrand Russell poem dedicated to Edith Finch, his fourth and last wife.

 

Through the long years

I sought peace.

I found ecstasy, I found anguish

I found madness,

I found loneliness.

I found the solitary pain

That gnaws the heart,

But peace I did not find.

 

Now, old and near my end,

I have known you,

And, knowing you,

I have found both ecstasy and peace.

I know rest.

After so many lonely years,

I know what life and love may be.

Now, if I sleep,

I shall sleep fulfilled.

Edited June 1, 2010 by Lord Superb

[maldita_overload]

The Grave No One Tended

The day was lovely as I strolled along

peering at stones on the way,

And that's when I saw it, that pitiful cross

that looked splintered and faded away.

With flowers in hand to tend Father's grave,

I knew I must hurry along.

But I couldn't help but linger while

at that cross that just didn't belong.

The date on the front confirmed my suspicions

of what I already knew.

A child lay beneath that horrible cross and its faded color of blue.

What selfish parents they must have been,

to bury their child all alone,

Without flowers or candles to light the night

and not even a simple headstone.

I looked even closer at that awful cross

that was nearly splintered away.

And there on the back,

I read the words that changed me forever that day.

"This cross isn't grand, but it was carved by my hands

so you'll know, son, how much I care.

It's the color of blue to remind me of you

and how painful it is I'm not there,

That it's you who is gone and it's me living on

while your young life has come to an end.

And left alone, never again with a home

and a grave that's to painful to tend."

Tears stung my eyes as I looked all around

at the monuments that ragged cross put to shame.

And I shared with those parents their horrible loss

that brought them such terrible pain.

And all of the tombstones, some even taller than me

suddenly seemed small in a way,

Next to that little handmade cross, carved with such love

and the flowers I planted that day.

By Cheryl L. Costello-Forshey

 

[zolber]

Wiliam Wordsworth's "She Was a Phantom of Delight" should move every man who has loved a perfect woman. These are my favorite lines:

 

A perfect Woman, nobly planned,

To warm, to comfort, and command;

[Itto Ogami]

Faith, mighty faith, the promise sees,

And looks to God alone;

Laughs at impossibilities,

And cries it shall be done.

 

-Charles Wesley

[Itto Ogami]

Open my ears,

that I may hear voices of truth Thou sendest clear;

And while the wave-notes fall on my ear,

everything false will disappear.

 

-Anon

[Lord Superb]

Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen

 

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

 

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,

And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

 

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est

Pro patria mori.

 

I love the vivid imagery in this one.

[naked_angel]

what we want

linda pastan

 

what we want

is never simple.

we move among the things

we thought we wanted:

a face, a room, an open book

and these things bear our names—

now they want us.

but what we want appears

in dreams, wearing disguises.

we fall past,

holding out our arms

and in the morning

our arms ache.

we don't remember the dream,

but the dream remembers us.

it is there all day

as an animal is there

under the table,

as the stars are there

[chantal777]

My sister inserted this poem in the black Moleskine planner she gave me for Christmas. I think that this poem is a fitting message to kick off a new year -- the "steady movement toward self-transcendence" as one critic puts it.

 

This poem, upon study and reflection, also has an "Inception" feel to it (which is one of my favorite films, by the way). The "Inception" feel is not borne solely by the "waking" and "sleeping" but rather the numerous paradoxes presented and the circular effect these paradoxes produce (as a paradox is 2 opposing ideas combined to come up with an entirely new idea).

 

Enjoy!

 

"The Waking"

 

 

I wake to sleep and take my waking slow.

I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.

I learn by going where I have to go.

 

We think by feeling. What is there to know?

I hear my being dance from ear to ear.

I wake to sleep and take my waking slow.

 

Of those close beside me, which are you?

God bless the ground! I shall walk softly there.

And learn by going where I have to go.

 

Light takes the tree; but who can tell us how?

The lovely worm climbs up a winding stair;

I wake to sleep and take my waking slow.

 

Great creature has another thing to do

To you and me; so take the lively air,

And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

 

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.

 

-- Theodore Roethke --

P.S. For a more thorough analysis of the poem, visit: http://www.mrbauld.com/roethwak.html

Edited August 15, 2010 by chantal777