Favourite Poems Options

[Diamandis]

Although personally I'm not a huge fan of poetry, there are a few that get to me.

My signature, for example is a poem called 'I Do Not Weep' by Mary E Fry. I heard it on a episode of Desperate Housewives once and I fell in love with it. Seeing as it's the anniversary of my nan's passing today, the poem always makes me think of her.

My siggy is a shortened version, but the full version is:

"Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight.
I am in the starshine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in everything.

Do not stand at my grave & cry,
I am not there, I did not die."

Do you guys have any poems, even ones written by yourself or others, that you'd like to share?

[Destri Melarg]

Langston Hughes’ Harlem [Dream Deferred] is a personal favorite:

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore-
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over-
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

_____

Then there’s the gallows wit of Dorothy Parker's Resume:

Razor’s pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acid stains you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

_____

And the third stanza of Keats’ Eve of St. Agnes always gets me:

Northward he turneth through a little door,
And scarce three steps, ere Music’s golden tongue
Flatter’d to tears this aged man and poor;
But no-already had his deathbell rung;
The joys of all his life were said and sung:
His was harsh penance on St. Agnes’ Eve:
Another way he went, and soon among
Rough ashes sat he for his soul’s reprieve,
And all night kept awake, for sinner’s sake to grieve.