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What Poetry Moved You?


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William Ernest Henley's Invictus was my all-time favorite, specially the last two lines. I even named our high school band then after the poem, because this poem really rocks!!! And if Henley was alive today, he probably is the frontman of U2 or Radiohead, hehehehheeheh!!! I think "My Way" by Frank Sinatra was inspired by this poem, heheheheh!William Ernest Henley's Invictus was my all-time favorite, specially the last two lines. I even named our high school band then after the poem, because this poem really rocks!!! And if Henley was alive today, he probably is the frontman of U2 or Radiohead, hehehehheeheh!!! I think "My Way" by Frank Sinatra was inspired by this poem, heheheheh! I think it was posted in the previous page na.

This is one of my favorites too.

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Absolutely uncanny: all the poems shared have touched me at some point. My contribution (with apologies if I missed some lines):

 

When in disgrace with fortune in men's eyes

I all alone beweep my outcast state

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries

Heaped upon myself and curse my fate.

Wishing me to one more rich in hope: featured like him

Like him with friends possessed, desiring this man's art and that man's scope

With what I most enjoy contented least

 

Yet in these thoughts, myself almost despising

Haply I think on thee and then my state:

Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven's gate

For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

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forget Love

 

Salvate what you still have,

Forget all that you've lost,

Never cherish, never love,

For you know it all ends up in tears.

Rage is but a part of change,

Lessen it with lessons that have taught you,

Not to care too much,

Not to get too attached.

Give yourself some mercy,

Just be alone,

Forever,

Self-preservation being the reason.

Don't ever surrender yourself,

To the beautiful danger of love,

Shattered hopes are a normalcy,

Learn not to have them,

Just as you learn not to befriend,

Not to trust,

Not to love.

 

 

how about this? well i just think that if you have this kind of outlook it will take less mistakes and more success in your career...hehe..i wish my bf will just let me go..i hate being in a relationship with him..

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love hurts

 

In the beginning we had a good relationship. He was always there for me when I needed him, and the times we were together we made each other happy. Then things changed. People would talk a lot of gossip to him and he chose to believe them over me. He was always around other girls. He said he never cheated on me but in the end I found out he was cheating. He said he couldn't trust me. He said all I did was lie to him, even though it wasn't true. He told me it was over.

 

When I read the poem Falling in Love With a Player by Lindsey Nicole Milke I realized I did fall in love with a player. Like the poem said, I will always love him but I have to let go of him.

 

For a while I started to cry but now I am getting over it. Since then we have become friends and now we talked more than we used to. I guess the bad part about our relationship was we should have started as friends instead of rushing into things.

 

Don't become lovers before you become friends... Remember, if you fall in love with a player, it will hurt, but there will always be another love.

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Edited by Macy
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i find this beautiful...

 

IF

--Rudyard Kipling

 

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you

But make allowance for their doubting too,

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,

If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it all 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!"

 

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much,

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

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I love this poem...nobody knows the author at paiba-iba un title nya sa net...

 

Do not stand by my grave and weep

 

Do not stand by my grave and weep,

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am a diamond glint of snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awake in the morning hush,

I am the swift, uplifting rush

of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft starshine at night.

Do not stand by my grave and cry.

I am not there…I did not die.

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from one of my favorite movies - dead poets society.....wish i could live life with this kind of urgency each day...

 

To the Virgins, Make Much of Time

-ROBERT HERRICK, 1591-1674

 

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old time is still a-flying,

And this same flower that smiles today,

To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,

The higher he's a-getting,

The sooner will his race be run,

And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,

When youth and blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse and worst

Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,

and while ye may, go marry;

For having lost just once your prime,

You may for ever tarry.

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  • 1 month later...

She Being Brand by EE Cummings

 

she being Brand

 

-new;and you

know consequently a

little stiff i was

careful of her and(having

 

thoroughly oiled the universal

joint tested my gas felt of

her radiator made sure her springs were O.

 

K.)i went right to it flooded-the-carburetor cranked her

 

up,slipped the

clutch(and then somehow got into reverse she

kicked what

the hell)next

minute i was back in neutral tried and

 

again slo-wly;bare,ly nudg. ing(my

 

lev-er Right-

oh and her gears being in

A 1 shape passed

from low through

second-in-to-high like

greasedlightning)just as we turned the corner of Divinity

 

avenue i touched the accelerator and give

 

her the juice,good

 

(it

 

was the first ride and believe i we was

happy to see how nice she acted right up to

the last minute coming back down by the Public

Gardens i slammed on

 

the

internalexpanding

&

externalcontracting

brakes Bothatonce and

 

brought allofher tremB

-ling

to a:dead.

 

stand-

;Still)

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somewhere i have never travelled gladly beyond -- ee cummings.

 

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

any experience,your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which i cannot touch because they are too near

 

your slightest look will easily unclose me

though i have closed myself as fingers,

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

 

or if your wish be to close me, i and

my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals

the power of your intense fragility:whose texture

compels me with the color of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing

 

(i do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens;only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

 

 

thanks to a friend for quoting a line from this poem in one of her PMs. :)

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  • 3 weeks later...

From Rossetti

 

two shall be born... the whole wide world apart

and speak in different tongues...and have no thought

each,of the other's being...and no heed

 

and these same two

over unknown seas,to unknown lands,shall cross

escaping wreck,defying death

and all unconsciously

shape each act, and bend each wandering step

to this one end...

that one day, out of darkness

they must meet

and read life's meaning in each other's eyes

 

and these same two

along some narrow way of life shall walk

so nearly side by side

that should one turn, ever so little space

to left...or right

they need must stand acknowledged, face to face

 

and yet...

 

with wistful eyes, that never meet

and groping hands that never clasp

with lips,calling in vain, to ears that never hear

they seek each other all their weary days

and die unsatisfied

 

... and this is Fate.

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  • 3 weeks later...

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