Your favourite poem?

edited December 2014 in General Chat

What kind of poetry do you guys enjoy?

My favourite poems are the epic poetry of Homer and Vergil. These are the opening and closing lines of Vergil's Aeneid:


Aeneid Book I Start:

I sing of arms and the man, he who, exiled by fate,

first came from the coast of Troy to Italy, and to

Lavinian shores – hurled about endlessly by land and sea,

by the will of the gods, by cruel Juno’s remorseless anger,

long suffering also in war, until he founded a city

and brought his gods to Latium: from that the Latin people

came, the lords of Alba Longa, the walls of noble Rome.

Muse, tell me the cause: how was she offended in her divinity,

how was she grieved, the Queen of Heaven, to drive a man,

noted for virtue, to endure such dangers, to face so many

trials? Can there be such anger in the minds of the gods?


Aeneid Book XII End:

As soon as his eyes took in the trophy, a memory of cruel grief,

Aeneas, blazing with fury, and terrible in his anger, cried:

‘Shall you be snatched from my grasp, wearing the spoils

of one who was my own? Pallas it is, Pallas, who sacrifices you

with this stroke, and exacts retribution from your guilty blood.’

So saying, burning with rage, he buried his sword deep

in Turnus’s breast: and then Turnus’s limbs grew slack

with death, and his life fled, with a moan, angrily, to the Shades.


I love this poetry because it has such intricacy of meaning that modern poetry and narrative lacks, in addition to be a fusion between poetry and novels. That is to say, for example, Vergil may use a word only once in the entire poem (10,000 lines!) which isn't just 'emphatic'; it may represent the uniqueness of a person, and highlight their excellence. In book 1, which I translated today, he uses one word to mean 'shrouded' in cloud to show people sneaking into a camp to avoid combat and then uses the same word to mean 'shrouded' in weapons to show the utter contrast of approach.

So yeah, what poetry do you guys enjoy and why?

Comments

  • A Bright Day In The Middle Of The Night

    One bright day in the middle of the night,

    Two dead boys got up to fight.

    Back to back they faced each other,

    drew their swords and shot each other.

    A deaf policeman heard the noise

    and ran to save the two dead boys.

    And if you don't believe it's true,

    go ask the blind man, he saw it too.

  • I don't know who wrote it but

    I, why?

    I just really like it

  • Every poem in this book:

    Alt text

    Fucking epic. I cry every time.

  • 'Back to back they faced each other' is a clever line.

    dojo32161 posted: »

    A Bright Day In The Middle Of The Night One bright day in the middle of the night, Two dead boys got up to fight. Back to back they

  • Is the entire poem 'I, why?'

    That doesn't really count as a poem if so :P

    Poogers555 posted: »

    I don't know who wrote it but I, why? I just really like it

  • Beautiful. Blows Vergil out of the water tbh.

    Every poem in this book: Fucking epic. I cry every time.

  • Not Waving but Drowning

    Alt text

    From what I could interpret, this poem is about a depressed individual who pretends to be fine and happy when in reality, he or she is far from okay. I've experienced depression before, and I can still relate to this poem in many levels. I think that's one of the reasons why I like it.

    That, and I'm a sucker for dark literature.

  • I'm sure I've posted this before, but here's a really great band putting T.S. Eliot to music:

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JOs4tkNhy2s

  • edited January 2015

    Edgar Allan Poe: "Evening Star"

    'Twas noontide of summer,
    And mid-time of night;
    And stars, in their orbits,
    Shone pale, thro' the light
    Of the brighter, cold moon,
    'Mid planets her slaves,
    Herself in the Heavens,
    Her beam on the waves.
    I gazed awhile
    On her cold smile;
    Too cold- too cold for me-
    There pass'd, as a shroud,
    A fleecy cloud,
    And I turned away to thee,
    Proud Evening Star,
    In thy glory afar,
    And dearer thy beam shall be;
    For joy to my heart
    Is the proud part
    Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
    And more I admire
    Thy distant fire,
    Than that colder, lowly light.

  • Edgar Allan Poe: "A Dream Within a Dream"

    Take this kiss upon the brow!

    And, in parting from you now,

    Thus much let me avow —

    You are not wrong, who deem

    That my days have been a dream;

    Yet if hope has flown away

    In a night, or in a day,

    In a vision, or in none,

    Is it therefore the less gone?

    All that we see or seem

    Is but a dream within a dream.

    I stand amid the roar

    Of a surf-tormented shore,

    And I hold within my hand

    Grains of the golden sand —

    How few! yet how they creep

    Through my fingers to the deep,

    While I weep — while I weep!

    O God! Can I not grasp

    Them with a tighter clasp?

    O God! can I not save

    One from the pitiless wave?

    Is all that we see or seem

    But a dream within a dream?

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