I like these two poems.
Huh? Poetry.com is sh-it.
My favorite collection is Hafiz…“The Gift”. It’s translated but so good. Brings joy every time I read it.
I am sitting alone in the moonlight,
In the moonlight soft and clear,
And a thousand thoughts steal o’er me,
While penciling, sitting here;
And the cricket is chirping, a chirping
And sings as I sit alone,
In the tall willow grass around me,
In a low and plaintive tone.
But fancy goes flitting and flying,
And I cannot keep it here,
Though the crickets are singing so plaintive,
And the moon shines never so clear.
Away in the hazy future—
Afar by the foaming sea
I am painting a cot in my fancy—
A cottage, and “Minnie” and me.
Now fancy grows dim in the distance—
So dim in the long since past,
That I scarce can take the fair picture
Of the playmates I spotted with last.
But away in the western wildwood
In the woodland wild and wier,
I relive in fancy my childhood
And sigh that I’m sitting here.
Yet I know 'tis wrong to be sighing
And seeking a future too fair,
Or to call up old hopes that are lying
A wreck in the sea of despair;
I know that the present has pleasures
That I ought to enjoy and embrace,
Lest I sigh for these days that are passing
When the future has taken their place.
Yet, as I sit in the moonlit meadow,
With no voice but nature’s near,
Save the chirp and the chime of the cricket
Falling plaintively on the ear,
I cannot control my fancy,
My thoughts are so wayward and wild,
That I ever will dream of the future,
Or wish I again were a child.
So, feel free to laugh, but my favorite poetry book is one from when I was a kid. The New Kid On the Block by Jack Prelutsky. There, I said it. Never liked that Silverstein or whatever that everyone always went for, I like him.
Never apologize for what you like, and shame on those who laugh.
I like the one Rodney Dangerfield recites at the end of Back to School.
Shane Koyczan “To this day”
He’s a slam poet from Canada. His stuff is excellent
“The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot - "Let us go then, you and I / Where the evening is spread out against the sky / Like a patient, etherized upon a table.
“A Tuft of Flowers” by Robert Frost
"I came across a man sitting naked, bestial,
In a desert. And in his hands he held his heart,
And he ate of it. I said, “Friend, is that good?”
He said, “Ah, it is bitter, bitter. But I like it,
Because it is bitter, and because it is my heart.”
- Stephan Crane -
Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright
In the forests of the night.
The Prophet by Khalil Gibran
On poetry.com you can pay what 25 dollars maybe 50 to get published it’s all people doing it for hobby then you gotta buy the book you’re in it’s mediocre nonsense
I’m ashamed to say that I am vain enough and insecure enough to want to see myself in print, however I have to get there, so I’ve sent stuff into poetry.com. I have been surprised to find some good poetry here and there in those books they publish.
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