i listen one poem it's nice.
and it was my favorite poem also.
spring is here
spring is here
goodbye, snow
flowers glow
birds and bee
leaves on trees
hello spring
hello spring...............
Topic: what is your favorite poem? - page 2. (Read 1293 times)
in my child hood i learn one poem it was my favorite poem
"pop pop popcorn
popping in the pot
pop pop popcorn
eat it while it's hot
pop pop popcorn
butter on the top
when i eat popcorn
i can't stop"
"pop pop popcorn
popping in the pot
pop pop popcorn
eat it while it's hot
pop pop popcorn
butter on the top
when i eat popcorn
i can't stop"
“The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost (1874-1963)
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.
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.
'Silentium!' by Fyodor Tyutchev also beautiful
Speak not, lie hidden, and conceal
the way you dream, the things you feel.
Deep in your spirit let them rise
akin to stars in crystal skies
that set before the night is blurred:
delight in them and speak no word.
How can a heart expression find?
How should another know your mind?
Will he discern what quickens you?
A thought once uttered is untrue.
Dimmed is the fountainhead when stirred:
drink at the source and speak no word.
Live in your inner self alone
within your soul a world has grown,
the magic of veiled thoughts that might
be blinded by the outer light,
drowned in the noise of day, unheard...
take in their song and speak no word.
Speak not, lie hidden, and conceal
the way you dream, the things you feel.
Deep in your spirit let them rise
akin to stars in crystal skies
that set before the night is blurred:
delight in them and speak no word.
How can a heart expression find?
How should another know your mind?
Will he discern what quickens you?
A thought once uttered is untrue.
Dimmed is the fountainhead when stirred:
drink at the source and speak no word.
Live in your inner self alone
within your soul a world has grown,
the magic of veiled thoughts that might
be blinded by the outer light,
drowned in the noise of day, unheard...
take in their song and speak no word.
Alexander Pushkin - The Captive
A captive, alone in a dungeon I dwell,
Entombed in the stillness and murk of a cell.
Outside, in the courtyard, in wild, frenzied play,
My comrade, an eagle, has punced on his prey.
Then, leaving it, at me he looks as if he
In thought and in purpose at one were with me.
He looks at me so, and he utters a cry.
"'Tis time," he is saying, "from here let us fly!
"We're both wed to freedom, so let us away
To where lonely storm clouds courageously stray,
Where turbulent seas rsh to merge with the sky,
Where only the winds dare to venture and I!.."
A captive, alone in a dungeon I dwell,
Entombed in the stillness and murk of a cell.
Outside, in the courtyard, in wild, frenzied play,
My comrade, an eagle, has punced on his prey.
Then, leaving it, at me he looks as if he
In thought and in purpose at one were with me.
He looks at me so, and he utters a cry.
"'Tis time," he is saying, "from here let us fly!
"We're both wed to freedom, so let us away
To where lonely storm clouds courageously stray,
Where turbulent seas rsh to merge with the sky,
Where only the winds dare to venture and I!.."
My favorite poem smells like the smell of love.
Desiderata by Max Ehrmann is my all time favorite poem (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Desiderata). I reread this poem over and over again, especially if I am ever feeling down or cynical. It is now in the public domain and I have posted part of the poem below. Enjoy and be inspired as I have been.
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.
rain or hail
sam done
the best he kin
till they digged his hole
:sam was a man
stout as a bridge
rugged as a bear
slickern a weazel
how be you
(sun or snow)
gone into what
like all them kings
you read about
and on him sings
a whippoorwill;
heart was big
as the world aint square
with room for the devil
and his angels too
yes, sir
what may be better
or what may be worse
and what may be clover
clover clover
(nobody'll know)
sam was a man
grinned his grin
done his chores
laid him down.
Sleep wel
sam done
the best he kin
till they digged his hole
:sam was a man
stout as a bridge
rugged as a bear
slickern a weazel
how be you
(sun or snow)
gone into what
like all them kings
you read about
and on him sings
a whippoorwill;
heart was big
as the world aint square
with room for the devil
and his angels too
yes, sir
what may be better
or what may be worse
and what may be clover
clover clover
(nobody'll know)
sam was a man
grinned his grin
done his chores
laid him down.
Sleep wel
UNBELIEVABLE
If by Rudyard Kipling
The Tyger by William Blake
Love’s Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley
If by Rudyard Kipling
The Tyger by William Blake
Love’s Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley
in my childhood my mam had said to me more poems.
in that my favorite poem is :
johnny johnny yes papa
eating sugar no papa
telling lies no papa
open your mouth?
ha ha ha ha haaaaaa!!!
in that my favorite poem is :
johnny johnny yes papa
eating sugar no papa
telling lies no papa
open your mouth?
ha ha ha ha haaaaaa!!!
My favorite poem is a poem made with my own hands.
Just about anything by W B Yeats.
there is something about the second coming that makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
there is something about the second coming that makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
i had readed poem in my childhood it was my favorite poem.
the snow fall.
the sun shines.
the snow melts.
water, water, water.
the cloud come.
the rain falls.
water, water, water.
the snow fall.
the sun shines.
the snow melts.
water, water, water.
the cloud come.
the rain falls.
water, water, water.
in my childhood my teacher said one poem that was one of the best and my favorite poem.
johnny johnny yes papa.
eating sugar
no papa
telling lies
no papa
open your mouth
ha ha ha ha.......
johnny johnny yes papa.
eating sugar
no papa
telling lies
no papa
open your mouth
ha ha ha ha.......
poems of Bayron ))
I don't have a poem in particular as my favorite because I love all of Lang Leav's poems. 
poems of Bayron ))
When I saw a little Bird
Coming hop hop hop;
So I cried, a little bird
will u stop stop stop?
As I was going to the window
To say, how do u do
But he shook his little tail
And away he flew.
Coming hop hop hop;
So I cried, a little bird
will u stop stop stop?
As I was going to the window
To say, how do u do
But he shook his little tail
And away he flew.
My favorite poem is a poem by Edger Allan Poe titled " a dream within a dream" this poem appeal because it is realistic and raises fundamental question about the core nature of reality and the idea of human existence. The poem is appealing to me because Poe brought to the fore the very fact that man kind live like a dream without recourse but however, was quick to chirp in that some dreamers might have vision of the future which might be real. The poem puts man in between an existing puzzle and to what and what he control in the world and the limit as well as extent of a dream.
I love his poems too. I also live poems written by Walt Whitman and Robert frost. I love their creations like Leaves of Grass and the road not taken, respectively.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
My favorite poem is a poem by Edger Allan Poe titled " a dream within a dream" this poem appeal because it is realistic and raises fundamental question about the core nature of reality and the idea of human existence. The poem is appealing to me because Poe brought to the fore the very fact that man kind live like a dream without recourse but however, was quick to chirp in that some dreamers might have vision of the future which might be real. The poem puts man in between an existing puzzle and to what and what he control in the world and the limit as well as extent of a dream.
Absolutely, I read in while I was in high school. I like Allan Poe too.
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