What Poetry Moved You?

[snakeyes1979]

I choose to love you in silence

 

For in my silence I find no rejection

 

I choose to love you in my loneliness

 

For in my loneliness, no one owns you but I,

 

I choose to admire you from a distance

 

‘coz the distance shields us both from pain,

 

I choose to imprison you in my thoughts

 

For in my thoughts I give you freedom

 

I choose to kiss you in the wind

 

‘coz the wind is more gentle than my lips,

 

I choose to touch you only in my dreams

 

For in my dreams, there is no end.

[snakeyes1979]

I came upon a rock one day,

 

As among those hills I roamed

 

And sat upon it and pondered

 

Why some things have to be alone.

 

 

Its granite face, its mossy folds,

 

The lichen on its myriad holes,

 

Tell me that time ravaged it so.

 

That water has fallen and flowed,

 

That he cold has bitten and

 

the wind has gnawed,

 

That the heat has come and all told

 

Its face has become smoother----

 

And it was there alone….

 

 

I came upon some other rock,

 

That erosion has torn from its place

 

Upon the earth’s bosom;

 

And this one was among many others

 

Which were too doomed---

 

To a life rolling upon each other

 

Down the abyss….

 

 

To hung forever upon the precipice,

 

To move when the rain must fall,

 

To constantly ramble till it has found

 

A place to rest?

 

 

And its face is so scratched, so gnarled,

 

Not even moss or lichen upon it,

 

Not even a flower to speak of ---

 

All it has are cracks and splintered facets,

 

To tell of the race ---

 

Down the precipice….

 

 

Happiness is now a place where

 

People want to go,

 

Where the rocks would rest or water flow,

 

And loneliness is not in being alone,

 

It is in forever rolling on…

 

 

Only to be identified with epochs and ages,

 

With nothing to show for individuality’s sake,

 

But people must forever go---

 

Down the prepice….

 

 

But the happy ones will be left up there,

 

For happiness is being with yourself---

 

A loneliness is a crowd.

[mwah]

Build Me a Son

General Douglas A. MacArthur

 

Build me a son, O Lord,

who will be strong enough to know when he is weak,

and brave enough to face him self when he is afraid;

one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat,

and humble and gentle in victory.

 

Build me a son whose wishbone will not be

where his backbone should be;

a son who will know Thee- and that

to know himself is the foundation stone of knowledge.

 

Lead him, I pray, not in the path of ease and comfort,

but under the stress and spur of difficulties and challenge.

Here, let him learn to stand up in the storm;

here, let him team compassion for those who fall.

 

Build me a son whose heart will be clear, whose goals will be high;

a son who will master himself before he seeks to master other men;

one who will learn to laugh, yet never forget how to weep;

one who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past.

 

And after all these things are his,

add, I pray, enough of a sense of humor,

so that he may always be serious,

yet never take himself too seriously.

 

Give him humility, so that he may always remember

the simplicity of true greatness,

the open mind of true wisdom,

the meekness of true strength.

 

Then I, his father, will dare to whisper,

"I have not lived in vain."

Edited July 1, 2009 by mwah

[skull_leader]

Filipino Classic (1897)

 

SA TABI NG DAGAT

Ildefonso Santos

 

Marahang-marahang

manaog ka, Irog, at kata’y lalakad,

maglulunoy katang

payapang-payapa sa tabi ng dagat;

di na kailangang

sapnan pa ang paang binalat-sibuyas,

ang daliring garing

at sakong na wari’y kinuyom na rosas!

Manunulay kata,

habang maaga pa, sa isang pilapil

na nalalatagan

ng damong may luha ng mga bituin;

patiyad na tayo

ay maghahabulang simbilis ng hangin,

nguni’t walang ingay,

hangganq sa sumapit sa tiping buhangin...

Pagdating sa tubig,

mapapaurong kang parang nanginigmi,

gaganyakin kata

sa nangaroroong mga lamang-lati:

doon ay may tahong,

talaba’t halaang kabigha-bighani,

hindi kaya natin

mapuno ang buslo bago tumanghali?

Pagdadapit-hapon

kata’y magbabalik sa pinanggalingan,

sugatan ang paa

at sunog ang balat sa sikat ng araw...

Talagang ganoon:

Sa dagat man, irog, ng kaligayahan,

lahat, pati puso

ay naaagnas ding marahang-marahan...

 

I remember hearing this from the Pahina TV show in channel 2. Made me cry.

Edited July 3, 2009 by skull_leader

[xdhirax]

basta pablo neruda

[Julianda]

I'm so touched about this poem by Mother Teresa...

 

DO IT ANYWAY

 

People are often unreasonable,

illogical and self-centered;

Forgive them anyway.

 

If you are kind,

people may accuse you of selfish ulterior motives;

Be kind anyway.

 

If you are successful,

you will win some false friends and true enemies;

Succeed anyway.

 

If you are honest and frank,

people may cheat you;

Be honest anyway.

 

What you spend years building,

someone could destroy overnight;

Build anyway.

 

If you find serenity and happiness,

they may be jealous;

Be happy anyway.

 

The good you do today,

people will often forget tomorrow;

Do good anyway.

 

Give the world the best you have,

and it may never be enough;

Give the world the best you've got anyway.

 

You see, in the final analysis,

it is between you and God;

It was never between you and them anyway.

 

Mother Teresa

1910-1997

[purrtypwincess]

This has always been an inspiration. Especially the last line...

 

 

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT

by Dylan Thomas

 

 

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

[yellowmoon]

Life in a Bottle

by Robert Browning

 

 

Escape me?

Never—

Beloved!

While I am I, and you are you,

So long as the world contains us both,

Me the loving and you the loth,

While the one eludes, must the other pursue.

My life is a fault at last, I fear:

It seems too much like a fate, indeed!

Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed.

But what if I fail of my purpose here?

It is but to keep the nerves at strain,

To dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall,

And baffled, get up to begin again,—

So the chase takes up one's life, that's all.

While, look but once from your farthest bound,

At me so deep in the dust and dark,

No sooner the old hope drops to ground

Than a new one, straight to the selfsame mark,

I shape me—

Ever

Removed!

Edited August 5, 2009 by yellowmoon

[lemon]

an ode to hope

 

not by the brilliance of the light

that lit ablaze from reluctant fervor,

not by the strength of will determined,

that endured the bashing of constant tremor,

not by the astute sense discerning

of society's ills and obstacles amend,

not by the boldness at the forefront,

in spite of sparse reserves to contend.

 

in you, we had all, indeed, you had all,

although by what measure, some reserve.

still it is the pureness of your soul,

that people and nations love preserve.

the grief of your loss, our tears befall,

and diffidently, we take up your cause to cope.

for in every heart that's worn and weary,

it is you who have sowed the seeds of hope.

 

 

this officially ends my cory mourning.

 

http://www.fileden.com/files/2007/2/26/823162/voodoo2.jpg

[chokenot]

l0ve hastes but is patient

l0ve is dark my bel0ved 0ne

call t0 the deep and unc0nquered s0ul

call unt0 me and hear me c0me...

[stickshift]

Bonsai

by: Edith Tiempo

 

All that I love

I fold over once

And once again

And keep in a box

Or a slit in a hollow post

Or in my shoe.

 

All that I love?

Why, yes, but for the moment ---

And for all time, both.

Something that folds and keeps easy,

Son’s note or Dad’s one gaudy tie,

A roto picture of a young queen,

A blue Indian shawl, even

A money bill.

 

It’s utter sublimation

A feat, this heart’s control

Moment to moment

To scale all love down

To a cupped hand’s size,

 

Till seashells are broken pieces

From God’s own bright teeth.

And life and love are real

Things you can run and

Breathless hand over

To the merest child.

[oropesa]

The rind (also called the skin) of the lemon is difficult to
 understand.
It goes around itself in an oval quite unlike the orange which, as
 anyone can tell, is a fruit easily to be eaten.
It can be crushed into all sorts of extracts which are
 still not lemons. Oranges have no such fate. They're pretty
 much the same as they were. Culls become frozen orange
 juice. The best oranges are eaten.
It's the shape of the lemon, I guess that causes trouble. Its
 ovalness, its rind. This is where my love, somehow, stops.

— Jack Spicer

[staringatdsun]

not even the rain have such small hands

 

--ee cummings

[Itto Ogami]

The Gravestone Poem

 

[pidginpoker]

wow poetry for poets in motion