What's your favorite poem?

Mine would be Der Panther from Rainer Maria Rilke (1902) translated in English :

His gaze, made tired from the passing of the bars,
cannot be held by anything.
It seems to him, as if there were a thousand bars,
as if behind the thousand bars there were no world.

The soft gait of smoothly powerful strides,
that turn within the smallest circle possible,
is like a dance of force around a center,
which holds the strongest will, benumbed.

Rarely the curtain of his pupils shifts,
and soundlessly a picture moves inside,
moves through the silent tenseness of his limbs,
to cease within the chambers of his heart.


0|0
7|7

Most Helpful Girl

  • Niemöller is perhaps best remembered for the quotation:

    First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
    Because I was not a Socialist.

    Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
    Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

    Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
    Because I was not a Jew.

    Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

    And the butterfly by pavel friedman
    The original butterfly
    He was the last. Truly the last.
    Such yellowness was bitter and blinding
    Like the sun’s tear shattered on stone.
    That was his true colour.
    And how easily he climbed, and how high,
    Certainly, climbing, he wanted
    To kiss the last of my world.

    I have been here seven weeks,
    ‘Ghettoized’.
    Who loved me have found me,
    Daisies call to me,
    And the branches also of the white chestnut in the yard.
    But I haven’t seen a butterfly here.
    That last one was the last one.
    There are no butterflies, here, in the ghetto.

    And the second version he made

    The Butterfly #2

    The last, the very last,
    So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow.
    Perhaps if the sun's tears would sing
    against a white stone...

    Such, such a yellow
    Is carried lightly ‘way up high.
    It went away I'm sure because it wished
    to kiss the world goodbye.

    For seven weeks I've lived in here,
    Penned up inside this ghetto
    But I have found my people here.
    The dandelions call to me
    And the white chestnut candles in the court.
    Only I never saw another butterfly.

    That butterfly was the last one.
    Butterflies don't live in here,
    In the ghetto.

    0|0
    0|0

What Guys Said 7

  • This may sound weird & childish but most of my likes are centered around my daughter.

    When she was a tot, the 1st rhyme she had learnt and came along to me in the evening to recite it with all her awesomely lovely hand movements is something that is a video that plays before my eyes multiple times a day :D <3

    She used to go off waving her tiny little hands "small small rabbit, small small rabbit, where are you, where are you..."

    She's done and over with it (she's 12 now) but I relive it and more every moment :D

    0|0
    0|0
    • Aaw so sweet :) she must be a wonderful daughter and you a wonderful father!

    • She's a wonderful daughter for sure <3 the best :D :D :D :D

  • Was there ever anything like the Bosphorus war?—
    The earth’s mightiest armies pressing Marmara,
    Forcing entry between her mountain passes
    To a triangle of land besieged by countless vessels.
    Oh, what dishonorable assemblages!
    Who are these Europeans, come as rapists

    Who, these braying hyenas, released from their reeking cages

    Why do the Old World, the New World, and all the nations of men
    now storm her beaches? Is it Armageddon? Truly, the whole world rages!
    Seven nations marching in unison!
    Australia goose-stepping with Canada!
    Different faces, languages, skin tones!
    Everything so different, but the mindless bludgeons!
    Some warriors Hindu, some African, some nameless, unknown!
    This disgraceful invasion, baser than the Black Death!
    Ah, the 20th century, so noble in its own estimation,
    But all its favored ones nothing but a parade of worthless wretches!
    For months now Turkish soldiers have been vomited up
    Like stomachs’ retched contents regarded with shame.
    If the masks had not been torn away, the faces would still be admired,
    But the whore called civilization is far from blameless.
    Now the damned demand the destruction of the doomed
    And thus bring destruction down on their own heads.
    Lightning severs horizons!
    Earthquakes regurgitate the bodies of the dead!
    Bombs’ thunderbolts explode brains,
    rupture the breasts of brave soldiers.
    Underground tunnels writhe like hell
    Full of the bodies of burn victims.
    The sky rains down death, the earth swallows the living.
    A terrible blizzard heaves men violently into the air.
    Heads, eyes, torsos, legs, arms, chins, fingers, hands, feet...
    Body parts rain down everywhere.
    Coward hands encased in armor callously scatter
    Floods of thunderbolts, torrents of fire.
    Men’s chests gape open,
    Beneath the high, circling vulture-like packs of the air.
    Cannonballs fly as frequently as bullets
    Yet the heroic army laughs at the hail.
    Who needs steel fortresses? Who fears the enemy

    ...
    Mehmet Akif Ersoy

    0|0
    0|0
  • 0|0
    0|0
  • High Flight by John Magee. Its pretty common but i still love it. Next would be Road not Taken by Frost.

    0|0
    0|0
  • My favorite poem is Arabian and Arabian poem don't have a name u just call it by the first verse in it

    0|0
    0|0
  • Roses are red
    Violets are blue
    No mutual friends
    Who the fuck are you?

    1|0
    0|0
  • Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening.

    0|0
    0|0

What Girls Said 6

  • The Lost Generation by Jonathan Reed

    I am part of a lost generation.

    And I refuse to believe that

    I can change the world.

    I realize this may be a shock, but

    “Happiness comes from within”

    Is a lie, and

    “Money will make me happy”

    So in thirty years, I will tell my children

    They are not the most important thing in my life.

    My employer will know that

    I have my priorities straight because

    Work

    Is more important than

    Family

    I tell you this:

    Once upon a time

    Families stayed together

    But this will not be true in my era.

    This is a quick fix society

    Experts tell me

    Thirty years from now, I will be celebrating the tenth anniversary of my divorce.

    I do not concede that

    I will live in a country of my own making.

    In the future,

    Environmental destruction will be the norm.

    No longer can it be said that

    My peers and I care about this Earth.

    It will be evident that

    My generation is apathetic and lethargic.

    It is foolish to presume that

    There is hope.

    And all of this will come true unless we reverse it.

    0|0
    0|0
  • Mine is a short poem by Latin poet Catullus. It's about his brother who died while he was traveling, and here we have Catullus "speaking" to his brother's tomb :
    I've come through many countries and across many seas,
    my brother, to do these sad obsequies,
    to bring you posthumous presents and hopeless wishes
    and make a useless speech to your dumb ashes;
    My poor brother, since fate has callously
    taken you, and cheated me of your company
    here are these merely conventional things,
    traditional sad funeral offerings:
    take them — all wet with your brother's tears — and my
    last greeting and everlasting goodbye.

    0|0
    0|0
  • My favorite one is in Italian, it's might seem a little dark, but if you knew a little about its author's life and soul you'd understand every single word has been chosen very carefully and means many different things. Translations don't do it justice I'm afraid. It made me cry the first time I read it.

    "To Himself" - G. Leopardi

    Now will you rest forever,
    My tired heart. Dead is the last deception,
    That I thought eternal. Dead. Well I feel
    In us the sweet illusions,
    Nothing but ash, desire burned out.
    Rest forever. You have
    Trembled enough. Nothing is worth
    Thy beats, nor does the earth deserve
    Thy sighs. Bitter and dull
    Is life, there is nought else. The world is
    clay.
    Rest now. Despair
    For the last time. To our kind, Fate
    Gives but death. Now despise
    Yourself, nature, the sinister
    Power that secretly commands our
    common ruin,
    And the infinite vanity of everything.

    0|0
    0|0
  • okay, so i normally hate poems, but i recently heard a poem called "wear sunscreen" and i really liked it

    0|0
    0|0
  • I really like these two poems

    "For Women Who Are Difficult To Love" by Warsan Shire and
    "OCD" by Neil Hilborn

    0|0
    0|0
  • The Wasteland, by T. S. Eliot.

    0|0
    0|0
Loading...