sorry if this is a repeat thread. i didn't see another one like this. anywho, post your favorite poem by someone else (ie NOT your own work). discuss the poems if you like, or just read them for pleasure.

The red wheelbarrow
by William Carlos Williams

so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.


Mushrooms - Sylvia Plath

Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly

Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.

Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.

Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,

Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,

Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We

Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking

Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!

We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,

Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:

We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.

I Am My Own Grandpa...

By Dwight B. Latham and Moe Jaffe


Many many years ago when I was twenty three,
I got married to a widow who was pretty as could be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter
Who had hair of red.
My father fell in love with her,
And soon the two were wed.

This made my dad my son-in-law
And changed my very life.
My daughter was my mother,
For she was my father's wife.

To complicate the matters worse,
Although it brought me joy,
I soon became the father
Of a bouncing baby boy.

My little baby then became
A brother-in-law to dad.
And so became my uncle,
Though it made me very sad.

For if he was my uncle,
Then that also made him brother
To the widow's grown-up daughter
Who, of course, was my step-mother.

Father's wife then had a son,
Who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandson,
For he was my daughter's son.

My wife is now my mother's mother
And it makes me blue.
Because, although she is my wife,
She's my grandmother, too.

If my wife is my grandmother,
Then I am her grandchild.
And every time I think of it,
It simply drives me wild.

For now I have become
The strangest case you ever saw.
As the husband of my grandmother,
I am my own grandpa!

Alone- Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were-I have not seen
As others saw-I could not bring
My passions from a common spring-
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow- I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone-
All I lov'd- I lov'd alone-
Then- in my childhood- in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still-
From the torrent, or the fountain-
From the red cliff of the mountain-
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold-
From the lightening in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by-
From the thunder, and the storm-
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view-

"Faith" is a fine invention
When Gentlemen can see—
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency.

Emily Dickinson

I love this poem. I wrote a five paragraph paper about it for English.

Yes, O Captain! My Captain! by Walt Whitman. I have it memorized but am way too lazy to write it now.

The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The Erl-King
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear?
The father it is, with his infant so dear;
He holdeth the boy tightly clasp'd in his arm,
He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm.

"My son, wherefore seek'st thou thy face thus to hide?"
"Look, father, the Erl-King is close by our side!
Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?"
"My son, 'tis the mist rising over the plain."

"Oh, come, thou dear infant! oh come thou with me!
Full many a game I will play there with thee;
On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold,
My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold."

"My father, my father, and dost thou not hear
The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?"
"Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives;
'Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves."

"Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?
My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care
My daughters by night their glad festival keep,
They'll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep."

"My father, my father, and dost thou not see,
How the Erl-King his daughters has brought here for me?"
"My darling, my darling, I see it aright,
'Tis the aged grey willows deceiving thy sight."

"I love thee, I'm charm'd by thy beauty, dear boy!
And if thou'rt unwilling, then force I'll employ."
"My father, my father, he seizes me fast,
Full sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last."

The father now gallops, with terror half wild,
He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child;
He reaches his courtyard with toil and with dread,
The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead.

Edward, Edward
Scottish poem, I've put in parenthesis th meanings of some words and phrases

Why does your brand (sword) sae drop wi' blude (blood),
Edward, Edward?
Why does your brand sae drop wi' blude,
And why sae sad gang (go) ye, O?
O, I hae (have) kill'd my hawk sae gude (good),
Mither (mother), mither;
O, I have kill'd my hawk sae gude,
And I had nae (no) mair (more) but he, O!

Your hawk's blude was never sae (so) red,
Edward, Edward?
Your hawk's blude was never sae red,
My dear son I tell thee, O!

O, I hae kill'd my red-roan steed,
Mither, mither;
O, I hae kill'd my red-roan steed,
That erst (once) was sae fair and free, O!

Your steed was auld (old) , and ye hae got mair,
Edward, Edward?
Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair,
Some other dule (grief) ye dree (suffer), O!

O, I hae slain (killed) my father dear,
Mither, mither;
O, I hae slain my father dear,
Alas, and wae (woe) is me, O!

And whatten (what) pennance will ye dree for that,
Edward, Edward?
Whatten pennance will ye dree for that
My dear son, now tell me, O!

I'll set my feet in yonder boat,
Mither, mither;
I'll set my feet in yonder boat,
And I'll fare (go) over the sea, O!

And what will you do with your towers and your hall,
Edward, Edward?
And what will you do with your towers and your hall,
That were so fair to see, O?

I'll let them stand till they down fall,
Mither, mither;
I'll let them stand till they down fall,
For here never more may I be, O!

And what will ye leave to your bairns (children) and your wife,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,
When ye gang owre (over) the sea, O?

The warld's (world's) room, let them beg through life,
Mither, mither;
The warld's room, let them beg through life;
For them never mair will I see, O!

And what will ye leave to your ain (own) mither dear,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,
My dear son, now tell me, O!

The curse of hell from me sall ye bear,
Mither, mither;
The curse of hell from me sall ye bear,
Sic (such) counsels ye gave to me, O!

Yo, this is where people are living
Olives. We like to complain n' fight n'
Utilize the propaganda of pandas.
The way of equalizing gender is not cool
Hillsides make me seasick. speaking of
Not showing your love of keyboards,
Outside of every keyboard is a
Itti bitty raman noodles pakage that
Stupid people frolick around. Did
Eyou see my cat running around here?

i broke the rule of not doing our own. This took a looootttt of thought!!