Post up your favourite poem..

[crazyg]

Lamia (excerpt)
By John Keats

She was a gordian shape of dazzling hue,
Vermilion-spotted, golden, green, and blue;
Striped like a zebra, freckled like a pard,
Eyed like a peacock, and all crimson barr'd;
And full of silver moons, that, as she breathed,
Dissolv'd, or brighter shone, or interwreathed
Their lustres with the gloomier tapestries -
So rainbow-sided, touch'd with miseries,
She seem'd, at once, some penanced lady elf,
Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self.
Upon her crest she wore a wannish fire
Sprinkled with stars, like Ariadne's tiar:
Her head was serpent, but ah, bitter-sweet!
She had a woman's mouth with all its pearls complete:
And for her eyes: what could such eyes do there
But weep, and weep, that they were born so fair?
As Proserpine still weeps for her Sicilian air.
Her throat was serpent, but the words she spake
Came, as through bubbling honey, for Love's sake,
And thus; while Hermes on his pinions lay,
Like a stoop'd falcon ere he takes his prey.

Bloody Ashton Grammar School English Lit O Level! Can still recite most of that excerpt, where she changes from half woman/half serpent into a woman.

I would imagine I'm a fair bit older than you, but my "O" level English teacher there was "Reg" Regan. (1966!)

 

[MellowJoe]

I'm more of a quote type of guy rather than poems, yet 'Not Waving but Drowning' is one that I do appreciate. She managed to write poignantly without it feeling contrived.

Stevie Smith

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

 

[Bilston Blue]

Larkin's "This Be Thy Verse" already having been posted two or three times, I'll opt for:

A Herron's Walk (Off Lunt Road), anon.

It's not only the hazel of your eyes
or your warm, blemished cheeks
stifling mischievous giggles
or the way your forearms don't taper
into slender, ladies' wrists
"Thickset," they'd say
But your skin
Your skin!
Crushed velvet in gold
and those inky vines, curling
bearing your children's names
a tattooed girl from the Lunt
No!
Not a girl
nor a lady
a mother with kids and ink
and a veneer of quiet reserve

It's not only your smile or the words that you say
or your inability to articulate
the message you wish to convey
or the way your sentences tail off
shy endings unspoken, broken
inviting my mending them

It's not only your steely resolve
there's the point of that star on your shoulder
encouraging masked glances
at your skin
Your skin!
Crushed velvet in gold
Your hidden star
mysterious, sparkling
to where does it point,
tattooed girl from the Lunt?
No!
Not a girl
nor a lady
a mother with kids and ink
and a veneer of detached indifference

I don't want to teach you
I want to talk with you
over coffee
over lunch
over at your place
not mine - it's not safe
in the park
in the dark
yes, the dark
but only to talk
maybe walk
don't mind the cold
you can borrow my sheepskin coat
I'd tell you I got it off eBay for sixty quid
then I'd ask questions like:
"Do you chew gum because you smoke?"
and if you smoked I don't think I'd mind
and maybe, just maybe
in the cold
in the dark
on the bandstand
in the park
I could help you begin to finish your sentences
and we could watch white clouds of warm breath
float into the night
and hang forever
above Lunt Pool
where that teenage boy died

 

[Saddleworth2]

I'm more of a quote type of guy rather than poems, yet 'Not Waving but Drowning' is one that I do appreciate. She managed to write poignantly without it feeling contrived.

Stevie Smith

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

One of my favourite too.

 

[Dr Dweeb]

Who wrote 'Death Is The Equalizer'?

 

[ChicagoBlue]

I would imagine I'm a fair bit older than you, but my "O" level English teacher there was "Reg" Regan. (1966!)

Sadly, don’t know him. I was there in the late 70’s, when my Lit teacher was Deputy Headmistress Granny Greenwood. It was clear from the outset it was going to be a slog, but I got through by writing down everything she said and trying to regurgitate it on the exam! Worked a treat, and I hate to say I’m still a big fan of Julius Caesar (our play), Pride and Prejudice (our novel, although I prefer the Keira Knightly movie version!) and Keats poetry! Strange, huh?!

 

[crazyg]

Sadly, don’t know him. I was there in the late 70’s, when my Lit teacher was Deputy Headmistress Granny Greenwood. It was clear from the outset it was going to be a slog, but I got through by writing down everything she said and trying to regurgitate it on the exam! Worked a treat, and I hate to say I’m still a big fan of Julius Caesar (our play), Pride and Prejudice (our novel, although I prefer the Keira Knightly movie version!) and Keats poetry! Strange, huh?!

Would that be Joyce Greenwood, who was there when I were a lad? I left after my "A" levels in 1968, and was at Newcastle whilst still in the Upper 6th.

 

[ChicagoBlue]

Would that be Joyce Greenwood, who was there when I were a lad? I left after my "A" levels in 1968, and was at Newcastle whilst still in the Upper 6th.

It would, indeed! Small world, eh?!

On her last legs (age/workwise) when I was there, but still sharp as a tack in the head! She would walk around quoting lines and asking pupil students what it meant. You were never sure whether eye contact was a good thing or a bad thing, as she seemed particularly keen on calling on those who tried to hide! I quickly learned that a quick hands up on almost every question (even if you weren’t sure of the answer!) was a surefire way NOT to get asked, because all the cowerers were the teachers target!! ;-)

 

[dark 'n stormy]

Sir John Betjeman
Executive

I am a young executive. No cuffs than mine are cleaner;
I have a Slimline brief-case and I use the firm's Cortina.
In every roadside hostelry from here to Burgess Hill
The maîtres d'hôtel all know me well, and let me sign the bill.

You ask me what it is I do. Well, actually, you know,
I'm partly a liaison man, and partly P.R.O.
Essentially, I integrate the current export drive
And basically I'm viable from ten o'clock till five.

For vital off-the-record work - that's talking transport-wise -
I've a scarlet Aston-Martin - and does she go? She flies!
Pedestrians and dogs and cats, we mark them down for slaughter.
I also own a speedboat which has never touched the water.

She's built of fibre-glass, of course. I call her 'Mandy Jane'
After a bird I used to know - No soda, please, just plain -
And how did I acquire her? Well, to tell you about that
And to put you in the picture, I must wear my other hat.

I do some mild developing. The sort of place I need
Is a quiet country market town that's rather run to seed
A luncheon and a drink or two, a little savoir faire -
I fix the Planning Officer, the Town Clerk and the Mayor.

And if some Preservationist attempts to interfere
A 'dangerous structure' notice from the Borough Engineer
Will settle any buildings that are standing in our way -
The modern style, sir, with respect, has really come to stay.

 

[CTID1988]

She had nice tits
She had a great arse
She lived down south
I came in her mouth