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Your favorite poet

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Joined: 03 Jul 2005
Posts: 50

PostPosted: Sun Dec 11, 2005 5:42 pm    Post subject: Your favorite poet Reply with quote

Who is your favorite poet and why? When did you start reading it without an English assignment?
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PostPosted: Sun Jan 22, 2006 4:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I have been reading and occasionally writing poetry for years. I don't have a favorite poet or poem, but have some favorites. This one is by Octavio Paz:

Homage to Claudius Ptolemy

I am a man: little do I last
and the night is enormous.
But I look up:
the stars write.
Unknowing I understand:
I too am written,
and at this very moment
someone spells me out.

This one is by Howard Nemerov:

Storm Windows

People are putting up storm windows now,
Or were, this morning, until the heavy rain
Drove them indoors. So, coming home at noon,
I saw storm windows lying on the ground,
Frame-full of rain; through the water and glass
I saw the crushed grass, how it seemed to stream
Away in lines like seaweed on the tide
Or blades of wheat leaning under the wind.
The ripple and splash of rain on the blurred glass
Seemed that it briefly said, as I walked by,
Something that I should have liked to say to you,
Something . . .the dry grass bent under the pane
Brimful of bouncing water . . . something of
A swaying clarity which blindly echoes
This lonely afternoon of memories
And missed desires, while the wintry rain
(Unspeakable the distance in the mind!)
Runs on the standing windows and away.
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Joined: 22 Sep 2007
Posts: 3375
Location: GERMAN PAMPA!!!

PostPosted: Mon Oct 29, 2007 3:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

An den Mond

Füllest wieder Busch und Tal
Still mit Nebelglanz,
Lösest endlich auch einmal
Meine Seele ganz.

Breitest über mein Gefild
Lindernd deinen Blick,
Wie des Freundes Auge mild
Über mein Geschick.

Jeden Nachklang fühlt mein Herz
Froh- und trüber Zeit
Wandle zwischen Freud' und Schmerz
In der Einsamkeit.

Fließe, fließe, lieber Fluss
Nimmer werd' ich froh,
So verrauschte Scherz und Kuss,
Und die Treue so.

Ich besaß es doch einmal,
Was so köstlich ist!
Dass man doch zu seiner Qual
Nimmer es vergisst!

Rausche, Fluss, das Tal entlang,
Ohne Rast und Ruh,
Rausche, flüst're meinem Sang
Melodien zu.

Wenn du in der Winternacht
Wütend überschwillst,
Oder um die Frühlingspracht
Junger Knospen quillst.

Selig, wer sich vor der Welt
Ohne Hass verschließt,
Einen Freund am Busen hält
Und mit dem genießt

Was, von Menschen nicht gewusst
Oder nicht bedacht,
Durch das Labyrinth der Brust
Wandelt in der Nacht.

(Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)

I realized that this is an English-speaking forum!!!! Laughing
But this is one of my favourites. I can't help it.
And if a translation exists...I don't want to read it!!!!!
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Joined: 14 Feb 2003
Posts: 230

PostPosted: Thu Nov 29, 2007 1:40 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thomas Carew and Percy Bysshe Shelley - I first gave them attention because of a book of poems from Victoria's Secret

Mediocrity in love rejected

GIVE me more Love, or more Disdain;
The Torrid, or the Frozen Zone
Bring equall ease unto my paine;
The Temperate affords me none:
Either extreme, of Love, or Hate,
Is sweeter than a calme estate.

Give me a storme; if it be Love,
Like Danae in that golden showre
I swim in pleasure; if it prove
Disdain, that Torrent will devour
My Vulture-hopes; and he's possest
Of Heaven, that's but from Hell releast:
Then crown my joyes, or cure my pain;
Give me more Love, or more Disdain.

Thomas Carew

The Indian Serenade

I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Hath led me--who knows how?
To thy chamber window, Sweet!

The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream--
The champak odors fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart;
As I must on thine,
Oh, beloved as thou art!

O lift me from the grass!
1 die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast;--
Oh! press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last.

Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Joined: 23 Nov 2008
Posts: 134
Location: Germany

PostPosted: Fri Apr 10, 2009 11:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

William Blake

My favourite sentence from him:


Regina from Germany
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