Poetry Thread!

[EE lover:)]

Post your poems!

Rules-
all BYC rules apply!


I'll start-
What is love?
I sometimes ask
No answer rings out
no matter how hard I try
I just can't place
but I think
Love is a dove
always flying where you least expect
Love is a mask
to cover your scars
Love is the worst
but yet the best
Some say that
Love is death
Love is Darkness
Love is the work of the worst
And I just say that
Love is what
I cannot feel
for reasons I can't conjour
Sometimes I wonder
What is love?
What is it that I fight for?

 

[Bantimna]

A Poetry Thread!!

Reverend Henry Ward Beecher,
thought the hen was a very elegant creature.
The hen pleased with that, laid an egg in his hat
Thus the hen rewarded Beecher

 

[iluvsedward]

how about any poetry, like favorites? does it have to be our poetry?

 

[epignosisjs]

One day in the coop with Miss Lu
'round and 'round all about the hens flew.
What started the fuss?
And stirred up the dust?
Only the silly hens knew!

 

[Dutchgirl]

Hmm...
Won two poetry contests in a row. If I can find them I'll post 'em. Just don't steal 'em!!

 

[EE lover:)]

Quote:
Any poetry, but you have to say if it's not your poem so we don't get destroyed by copyright laws.

 

[EE lover:)]

Quote:
That would be great! No stealing, people! I'll add that to the rules statement.

 

[awesomefowl]

Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare
"You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair."
As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.
When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,
And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark;
But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,
His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.
I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye,
How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie:
The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,
While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.
When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,
Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon;
While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,
And concluded the banquet by --- (eating the owl!)

~ Lewis Carrol

 

[iluvsedward]

some of these arn't really poems, there just my favorites


Fire and Ice by Robert frost


Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.




Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies
Edna St. Vincent Millay


Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age
The child is grown, and puts away childish things.
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.

Nobody that matters, that is. Distant relatives of course
Die, whom one never has seen or has seen for an hour,
And they gave one candy in a pink-and-green stripéd bag, or a
jack-knife,
And went away, and cannot really be said to have lived at all.

And cats die. They lie on the floor and lash their tails,
And their reticent fur is suddenly all in motion
With fleas that one never knew were there,
Polished and brown, knowing all there is to know,
Trekking off into the living world.
You fetch a shoe-box, but it's much too small, because she won't
curl up now:
So you find a bigger box, and bury her in the yard, and weep.
But you do not wake up a month from then, two months
A year from then, two years, in the middle of the night
And weep, with your knuckles in your mouth, and say Oh, God!
Oh, God!
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies that matters,
—mothers and fathers don't die.

And if you have said, "For heaven's sake, must you always be
kissing a person?"
Or, "I do wish to gracious you'd stop tapping on the window with
your thimble!"
Tomorrow, or even the day after tomorrow if you're busy having
fun,
Is plenty of time to say, "I'm sorry, mother."

To be grown up is to sit at the table with people who have died,
who neither listen nor speak;
Who do not drink their tea, though they always said
Tea was such a comfort.

Run down into the cellar and bring up the last jar of raspberries;
they are not tempted.
Flatter them, ask them what was it they said exactly
That time, to the bishop, or to the overseer, or to Mrs. Mason;
They are not taken in.
Shout at them, get red in the face, rise,
Drag them up out of their chairs by their stiff shoulders and shake
them and yell at them;
They are not startled, they are not even embarrassed; they slide
back into their chairs.

Your tea is cold now.
You drink it standing up,
And leave the house



Genesis 2:17
But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.



Willam Shakespeare
"These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triump die, like fire and powder
Which, as they kiss, consume"

 

[awesomefowl]

The Road Less Traveled
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.