# General Discussion > Opinions >  Favourite Poet and/or Poem

## Tsuyoiko

Who is your favourite poet and which is your favourite poem? My favourite poet is Lord Byron. My favourite poem is Darkness. I like the alliteration and half-rhyme, the lack of rhythm and the atmosphere that really conveys the idea of 'darkness'.

It is a long poem so I have put a link above rather than post the lot, but I like the way it starts 



> I had a dream, which was not all a dream. 
> The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars 
> Did wander darkling in the eternal space, 
> Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth 
> Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air


and ends



> The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, 
> The moon their mistress had expir'd before; 
> The winds were withered in the stagnant air, 
> And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need 
> Of aid from them--She was the Universe


I love the word 'darkling', and the last line - "She was the Universe". Great stuff, ne?  :Cool:

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## Mars Man

That sounded really nice there Tsuyoiko chan !! I like that 'darkling' thing too. I have written in the past--mostly for music--and really enjoy good poetry. It is sad, actually, that I don't really have time for it these days, with all this house work, and the kids, and all--and my studies. 

I have always liked, oh no, what's her name...the somewhat weak, American poet..female...wow...? Now you know one weakness of mine--who did what and what's it called. (even with music, I cannot say who did some song, or the name of it, but I can play it and sing it) Maybe you can help me there. 

I'd love to get all of that poem, somehow.  :Smiling:

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## kirei_na_me

My favorite poem? It would have to be _Annabel Lee_, by Edgar Allan Poe.




> Annabel Lee
> by Edgar Allan Poe, 1849
> 
> It was many and many a year ago,
> In a kingdom by the sea,
> That a maiden there lived whom you may know
> By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
> And this maiden she lived with no other thought
> Than to love and be loved by me.
> ...



Maybe there are more elaborate poems, poems that are more complex, but Edgar Allan Poe has a special value to me. I started reading him when I was very young, so it made an impression on me at an early stage.

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## xerxes99

My Favorite poet is T.S. Eliot, and favorite poem is 

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock 

Sfio credesse che mia risposta fosse 
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, 
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. 
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo 
Non torno vivo alcun, sfifodo il vero, 
Senza tema dfinfamia ti rispondo. 


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 5 
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 c 10 
Oh, do not ask, gWhat is it?h 
Let us go and make our visit. 

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

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, 15 
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes 
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, 
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, 
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, 
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20 
And seeing that it was a soft October night, 
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. 

And indeed there will be time 
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, 
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; 25 
There will be time, there will be time 
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; 
There will be time to murder and create, 
And time for all the works and days of hands 
That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30 
Time for you and time for me, 
And time yet for a hundred indecisions, 
And for a hundred visions and revisions, 
Before the taking of a toast and tea. 

In the room the women come and go 35 
Talking of Michelangelo. 

And indeed there will be time 
To wonder, gDo I dare?h and, gDo I dare?h 
Time to turn back and descend the stair, 
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40 
[They will say: gHow his hair is growing thin!h] 
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, 
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin— 
[They will say: gBut how his arms and legs are thin!h] 
Do I dare 45 
Disturb the universe? 
In a minute there is time 
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. 

For I have known them all already, known them all:— 
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50 
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; 
I know the voices dying with a dying fall 
Beneath the music from a farther room. 
So how should I presume? 

And I have known the eyes already, known them all— 55 
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, 
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, 
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, 
Then how should I begin 
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? 60 
And how should I presume? 

And I have known the arms already, known them all— 
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare 
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!] 
It is perfume from a dress 65 
That makes me so digress? 
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. 
And should I then presume? 
And how should I begin?
. . . . . 
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets 70 
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes 
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?c 

I should have been a pair of ragged claws 
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . . 
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! 75 
Smoothed by long fingers, 
Asleep c tired c or it malingers, 
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. 
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, 
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? 80 
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, 
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter, 
I am no prophet—and herefs no great matter; 
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, 
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, 85 
And in short, I was afraid. 

And would it have been worth it, after all, 
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, 
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, 
Would it have been worth while, 90 
To have bitten off the matter with a smile, 
To have squeezed the universe into a ball 
To roll it toward some overwhelming question, 
To say: gI am Lazarus, come from the dead, 
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you allh— 95 
If one, settling a pillow by her head, 
Should say: gThat is not what I meant at all. 
That is not it, at all.h 

And would it have been worth it, after all, 
Would it have been worth while, 100 
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, 
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor— 
And this, and so much more?— 
It is impossible to say just what I mean! 
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: 105 
Would it have been worth while 
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, 
And turning toward the window, should say: 
gThat is not it at all, 
That is not what I meant, at all.h
. . . . . 110 
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; 
Am an attendant lord, one that will do 
To swell a progress, start a scene or two, 
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, 
Deferential, glad to be of use, 115 
Politic, cautious, and meticulous; 
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; 
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous— 
Almost, at times, the Fool. 

I grow old c I grow old c 120 
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. 

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? 
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. 
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. 

I do not think that they will sing to me. 125 

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves 
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back 
When the wind blows the water white and black. 

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea 
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130 
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

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## Mars Man

Those two are great !! Especially Annabel Lee, now you recalled that memory, brings back some good memories !! Thanks!!  :Bravo:

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## lexico

Glad to see Poe poetry lovers !  :Wavey: 
The Raven is the ultimate masterpiece of English verse that never was or will be.
The Hose of Usher Net
wiki: The Raven



> The Raven
> by Edgar Allan Poe
> First Published in 1845 
> 
> Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
> Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
> While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
> As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
> " 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
> ...


There was another, older one of quotes and poems; The Beauty of Words by member Rachel

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## Kinsao

I like Storm, by Wilfred Owen - one of his earlier poems, but... I dunno, i just like it...

His face was charged with beauty as a cloud
With glimmering lightning. When it shadowed me
I shook, and was uneasy as a tree
That draws the brilliant danger, tremulous, bowed.
So must I tempt that face to loose its lightning.
Great gods, whose beauty is death, will laugh above,
Who made his beauty lovelier than love.
I shall be bright with their unearthly brightening.
And happier were it if my sap consume;
Glorious will shine the opening of my heart;
The land shall freshen that was under gloom;
What matter if all men cry aloud and start,
And women hide bleak faces in their shawl,
At those hilarious thunders of my fall?

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## Tsuyoiko

> I have always liked, oh no, what's her name...the somewhat weak, American poet..female...wow...? Now you know one weakness of mine--who did what and what's it called. (even with music, I cannot say who did some song, or the name of it, but I can play it and sing it) Maybe you can help me there.


I have the same thing, and it drives me crazy. Thank goodness for Google! Do you mean Emily Dickinson?

Just for you Lexico, here is Simon's parody of The Raven:



> The Raven
> By Grubbymitts
> 
> It was a night
> both dark and dreary.
> I sat alone,
> tired and weary.
> Alone but with thoughts of Uncle Tom
> who is a bore.
> ...

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## Kinsao

rofl @ that poem! I like the bit about "practices both Satanic and Dental"....  :Laugh out loud:

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## Void

Frankly speaking, it`s hard to pick one. It depends ob a mood a lot. And there is also matter of age and knowledge. At early years i would not understand Emily Dickenson but now i can enjoy her sharp broken lines and surprising imagery. I couldn`t get the verse without rhyme and decent beat before, but recently i found a few poems by modern English authors and think now in some cases i can put up with it too and find a beauty in it

I like Poe, "Raven", certainly, a break through of the poetry of those ages, it was admitted by his contemporaries and nowdays. Rhythm, rhyme, images make clear and stunning picture. "And quoth Raven: nevermore." Many russian translators leave this nevermore as is, since we don`t have suitable by sound word.
A few poems of O.Wilde made me to like him, but i haven`t read much
R.Kipling makes nice stories, worth of mentioning. "But iron cold iron shall be master of men all"
Dante with his "La divina comedia", which i struggled to read and hadn`t 
finished, draws enchanting description of "another world". 
Goethe, Shakespear - narrators of human soul "Sleep no more! Macbeth hath 
murdered the sleep!"
Every one of romantics has his own force of attraction.
Byron and Shelley are most known. Recently i`ve discovered Keats for myself.

I like russians poets of silver age of russian poetry, especially Gumilev and
Voloshin. First one has a perfect sense of verse: everything is well balanced -
rhyme, melody, design. Voloshin has a feeling of a sound making sands whisper with words and sea rustle from the book pages (by phonation and plot)

Many different authors of different countries have their own attractiveness
Rubai (sp?) by Omar Haiyam (sp?) remembered almost by everyone a bit intellectual when they open a bottle of vine (at least in Russia). 
Quite a number of people i know are bewildered by laconic Japanese verse
and many more others i failed to mention

sorry, but i can`t pick the favourite one  :Laughing: 

Let it be Gumilev`s *The Word* quoted for example



> In the days when the God eternal
> Was declining face to the new world,
> By the Word they stopped the sunfs inferno,
> And destroyed the towns by the Word.
> 
> And an eagle was falling at the ground,
> Stars were backing to the moon in fright,
> If, as made from orange flames a cloud,
> Word was sailing in the heavenfs height.
> ...

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## xerxes99

Any list of great poems has to include Milton's Paradise Lost. Although it's way too long to quote here

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## Tsuyoiko

> Any list of great poems has to include Milton's Paradise Lost. Although it's way too long to quote here


What are your favourite lines? I like this bit:




> Their mighty Chief returned: loud was the acclaim: 
> Forth rushed in haste the great consulting peers, 
> Raised from their dark Divan, and with like joy 
> Congratulant approached him; who with hand 
> Silence, and with these words attention, won. 
> Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers; 
> For in possession such, not only of right, 
> I call ye, and declare ye now; returned 
> Successful beyond hope, to lead ye forth 
> ...


It carries on a bit after that...

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## lexico

@Tsuyoiko:
Many thanks for sharing this rare and radiant beauty of a parody; to you and Simon the new-age poet of the XXIth c. This is my favourite part that showes even in poetry logic and common sense rule.


> eOh Uncle Tom, I implore,
> if that is you without my chamber door,
> you should know I wish to see you no more.
> For quite frankly you are such a bore
> and I grow tired of your tales of days of yore.f


How many evenings ended in violent fist fights of feuding family members if not falling asleep or fainting from brutal boredome, o nevermore !

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## Frank D. White

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, born in Portland , Maine; his home is still here for visitors. One of his I like is "A Psalm of Life".

Frank

 :Cool:

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## Tsuyoiko

> rofl @ that poem! I like the bit about "practices both Satanic and Dental"...





> @Tsuyoiko:
> Many thanks for sharing this rare and radiant beauty of a parody; to you and Simon the new-age poet


Thanks Kinsao & Lex! I will post some of Simon's 'good' poetry later.



> Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, born in Portland , Maine


I like Longfellow too Frank. My favourite is Excelsior
I love the phrase 'the shades of night', because it is a description and a metaphor at the same time, and the ending is so tragic, but right and proper.

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## Tsuyoiko

OK, Simon sent a couple of his 'good' (IMHO) poems. I like them, but I'm probably biased!

This one is for all the Tolkien/Feist/Donaldson etc fans out there:



> Fantasy.
> By Grubbymitts
> 
> Swords clash,
> A minstrel sings,
> A time of change,
> The death of kings.
> 
> Turned to stone
> ...


And this one is often miscontrued. What do you think it means?



> Angels' Gate.
> By Grubbymitts
> 
> We stand together at Angels' gate,
> Our arms entwined in a lattice of hope,
> From the North to the South,
> The East to the West,
> We stand united,
> Two abreast.
> ...

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## Mars Man

My eyes are sore now, almost from reading; but it was worth it. Yes !! That's the girl, good ole Emily D. Now I can't recite which poem it was that 'move' me the most, but I liked her style--now I'm talking about a way back you know. 

Thanks for the help !!  :Cool:

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## chrisg4

My all time favorite poet is Shakespeare..

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## Rastko Pocesta

Shakespeare and Edgar Alan Poe (Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!")

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## Valmir

I have started to learn French weeks ago, and the professor gave to us this Poem!
I just love it and i have learned it all.

*Déjeuner du matin* 
Il a mis le café 
Dans la tasse 
Il a mis le lait 
Dans la tasse de café 
Il a mis le sucre 
Dans le café au lait 
Avec la petite cuiller 
Il a tourné 
Il a bu le café au lait 
Et il a reposé la tasse 
Sans me parler 
Il a allumé 
Une cigarette 
Il a fait des ronds 
Avec la fumée 
Il a mis les cendres 
Dans le cendrier 
Sans me parler 
Sans me regarder 
Il s'est levé 
Il a mis 
Son chapeau sur sa tête 
Il a mis son manteau de pluie 
Parce qu'il pleuvait 
Et il est parti 
Sous la pluie 
Sans une parole 
Sans me regarder 
Et moi j'ai pris 
Ma tête dans ma main 
Et j'ai pleuré

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## The Alani Dragon

On Dancing and Trancing

Let me hold you in my hands a minute more, my love
Let me kiss you one more time while the night is new,
Let me swirl you one more time and have my hands on you,
Let me catch you one more time when the turn has turned.

Let me one more moment have in this seductive dream -
Let me one more touch to have that in my soul would gleam -
So I make my day to Count and may night to Mean,
So I have one thing to want and one dream on which to lean.

Let me swirl you one more time as long the dance keep going,
Let me have you in my soul as the time keeps rowing,
Let me touch you one more time - the touch means so much,
Let me stand with you in trance while the trance is such.

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## Carlos

¿Por qué no me dijiste que estabas construyendo
ese castillo de arena?
Hubiera sido tan hermoso
poder entrar por su pequeña puerta,
recorrer sus salados corredores,
esperarte en los cuadros de conchas,
hablándote desde el balcón
con la boca llena de espuma blanca y transparente
como mis palabras,
esas palabras livianas que te digo,
que no tienen más que el peso
del aire entre mis dientes.
Es tan hermoso contemplar el mar.
Hubiera sido tan hermoso el mar
desde nuestro castillo de arena,
relamiendo el tiempo
con la ternura
honda y profunda del agua,
divagando sobre las historias que nos contaban
cuando, niños, éramos un solo poro
abierto a la naturaleza.
Ahora el agua se ha llevado tu castillo de arena
en la marea alta.
Se ha llevado las torres,
los fosos,
la puertecita por donde hubiéramos pasado
en la marea baja,
cuando la realidad está lejos
y hay castillos de arena
sobre la playa…

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## Cotys

> On Dancing and Trancing
> 
> Let me hold you in my hands a minute more, my love
> Let me kiss you one more time while the night is new,
> Let me swirl you one more time and have my hands on you,
> Let me catch you one more time when the turn has turned.
> 
> Let me one more moment have in this seductive dream -
> Let me one more touch to have that in my soul would gleam -
> ...


This poem is mine - I posted it in All Empires Online History Community, in a thread called "My Poems", in a subforum called "Literary Persuits" on Nov 14-11.
I don't have enough posts to post links, so please look my thread up, contact me for proof. 
This member has no right to post my poems without my signature, my name, /which he knows/, or a link to the place he took it.

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## Héloïse

My favorite poets is Victor Hugo, I like "Oceano Nox" beautiful poems about de sailors lost in sea

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## Héloïse

But I also like Verlaine and Rimbaud (who were in a relationship together btw), french poets

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## ZTD

"Let’s halt! And on the abode of loved ones weep"

by *Imru’ al-Qays*

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## morris

I can't say what would be my favorite poem, but I can say that my three favorite poets are Baudelaire, Lautréamont and Trakl.

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## Angela

I have many, many, loved poems. One that comes to mind quite often recently is Arnold's On Dover Beach.

Here is the last stanza:

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## Angela

Rimani:

Gabriele D’Annunzio
_Rimani! Riposati accanto a me.__Non te ne andare.__Io ti veglierò. Io ti proteggerò.__Ti pentirai di tutto fuorchè d’essere venuto a me, liberamente, fieramente.__Ti amo. Non ho nessun pensiero che non sia tuo;__non ho nel sangue nessun desiderio che non sia per te.__Lo sai. Non vedo nella mia vita altro compagno, non vedo altra gioia.__Rimani.__Riposati. Non temere di nulla.__Dormi stanotte sul mio cuore…_

Stay! Rest beside me.Do not go.I will watch you. I will protect you.You'll regret anything but coming to me, freely, proudly.I love you. I do not have any thought that is not yours;I have no desire in the blood that is not for you.You know. I do not see in my life another companion, I see no other joyStay.Rest. Do not be afraid of anything.Sleep tonight on my heart…

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