Favorite Poems?

[ChickenHawk]

This Is Just To Say       

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

by William Carlos Williams

[Curlew]

The man in the glass

When you get what you want in your struggles for self

And the world makes you king for a day,

Just go to a mirror and look at yourself

And see what that man has to say.


For it isn't your father or mother or wife

Whose judgment upon you must pass,

The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life

Is the one staring back from the glass.


Some people might think you're a straight-shooting chum

And call you a wonderful guy.

But the man in the glass says you're only a bum

If you can't look him straight in the eye.


He's the fellow to please, never mind all the rest

For he's with you clear to the end

And you've passed your most dangerous test

If the guy in the glass is your friend.


You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years

And get pats on the back as you pass

But your final reward will be heartache and tears

If you've cheated the man in the glass.

Author Unkown

[Swoop]

 
I wear no standard
no name to be slandered
no honours from royal courts
 
I joust, not with lance
and my steed does not prance
but she roars, and thunders and snorts
 
I'll charge at my foe
with the ground far below
neither my steed nor my pulse could be higher
 
As we twist in the air
everything is fair
cross my sight and my steed shall spit fire
 
I shall salute my enemy
manners cost nothing to me
as earthwards, he plummets in flame
 
For I am the best
no sport for the rest
to some this is more than a game
 
Favor me Princess
and I'll fly to impress
your love will lift me up high
 
No flight is the same
I shall fly in your name
come join me tonight, in my sky

[phatzo]

THE FINAL INSPECTION

The soldier stood and faced his God,
Which must always come to pass;
He hoped his shoes were shining bright,
Just as brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now, soldier,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you turned the other cheek?
To my church have you been true?"

The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
"No, Lord, I guess I ain't;
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.

I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was rough;
I've had to break your rules my Lord,
Because the world is awfully tough.

But, I never took a thing
That wasn't mine to keep;
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills got just too steep.

And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear;
And sometimes ... God forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here;
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.

If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand;
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand."

There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the saints often trod;
As the soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.

"Step forward now, soldier,
You've borne your burdens well;
Come walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in HELL!"

[RTHolmes]

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.

[Saxman]

Mine are too long to actually post here, but:

Beowulf

and

The Lays of Beleriand. I really wish Tolkien had finished them.

[mechanic]

There are holes in the sky, where the rain gets in.
But they're ever so small, thats why rain is thin.


- Spike Milligan
 

[RTHolmes]

I almost went for a Spike poem

[mechanic]

  he did some great ones that the only one i remember word for word right now

[TEShaw]

Gaw! There's at least three literate guys in this forum.

How about this from, "The Man from Athabaska."

"....for I'm the regimental sniper,
and they work me like a dago,
and they laugh to see me shoot the bosche
a half a mile away."

You can hear Country Joe sing it...maybe this address works....http://popup.lala.com/popup/576742266788512939

Otherwise you can do a search.

regards, TEShaw

[TEShaw]

You just cannot get enough poetry; it's been the best since 700 BC.  (that rhymes)

...and, staggering blind Homer strums the lyre and says, "I sing of arms and the man..."

[Kuhn]

High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air. . . .

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

— John Gillespie Magee, Jr

[Simba]

"I almost went for a Spike poem".

Good ol' Spike Milligan. Here's one of his best, short and to the point:

The boy stood on the burning deck.
TWIT!

For me, there's just one poem that says it all about the individualist:

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death.

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere amongst the clouds above.
Those that I fight, I do not hate,
Those that I guard, I do not love.
My country is Kiltartan Cross, my countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight drove to this tumult in the clouds.
I gathered all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind,
In balance with this life, this death.

W.B. Yeats.

 
 

[Banshee7]

Gaw! There's at least three literate guys in this forum.

Am I one? 

[Talon07]

Because I fly...

...I laugh more than other men,
I look up and see more than they,
I know how the clouds feel,
What it's like to have the blue in my lap,
to look down on birds,
to feel freedom in a thing called the stick...
who but I can slice between God's billowed legs,
and feel then laugh and crash with His step?
Who else has seen the unclimbed peaks?
The rainbow's secret?
The real reason birds sing?
Because I Fly, I envy no man on earth.

Not sure who wrote this but describes any true aviation enthusiasts feelings quite admirably.
Kind regards
FBClaw