Favourite Poem!

[Reg Martin]

Hope this isn't too poncy a thread but we've had favourite painting as a thread recently so why not this..
Not sure what my favourite is but I really like this one. It's The Soldier by Rupert Brooke written early in First World War:

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

 

[Pubey]

The Question
Percy Bysshe Shelley


I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way,
Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring,
And gentle odours led my steps astray,
Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring
Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling
Its green arms round the bosom of the stream,
But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.

There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth,
The constellated flower that never sets;
Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth
The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets
Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth
Its mother's face with Heaven's collected tears,
When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.

And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,
Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured may,
And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day;
And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,
With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;
And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold,
Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.

And nearer to the river's trembling edge
There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white,
And starry river buds among the sedge,
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,
Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge
With moonlight beams of their own watery light;
And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green
As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.

Methought that of these visionary flowers
I made a nosegay, bound in such a way
That the same hues, which in their natural bowers
Were mingled or opposed, the like array
Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours
Within my hand, and then, elate and gay,
I hastened to the spot whence I had come,
That I might there present it! Oh! to whom?

 

[londonblue]

Mine is quite an obvious one. I keep a copy of it at my desk at work:-

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise.

If you can dream and not make dreams your master,
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools.

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the will which says them, "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings, nor lose the common touch.
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much.
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a man my son.

Rudyard Kippling

 

[Pubey]

obvious for the right reasons londonblue.. it's a brilliant poem

 

[shrimper4life]

Sick of poems to death!! 4 weeks of doing my a2 english syllabus was enough after spending 4 weeks on this poem:

http://www.readbookonline.net/read/608/10173/

 

[steveo]

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise.

If you can dream and not make dreams your master,
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools.

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the will which says them, "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings, nor lose the common touch.
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much.
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a man my son.

Rudyard Kippling

Ridiculous post! Everyone knows this was by Mike Bassett - England Manager.

 

[Jonny_Stokes]

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the A gaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.


Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

 

[Benfleet A1]

Follow the link for one of the best poems in history


http://poetry.eserver.org/ancient-mariner.html

 

[londonblue]

Follow the link for one of the best poems in history


http://poetry.eserver.org/ancient-mariner.html

Lazy b*st*rd. Why couldn't you type it out?

 

[Benji91]

German Guns
By Baldrick

Boom boom boom boom
Boom boom boom
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

 

[Mr. Benedict]

German Guns
By Baldrick

Boom boom boom boom
Boom boom boom
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

I preferred:

Hear the words I sing,
War's a horrid thing,
So I sing, sing, sing,
Ding-a-ling-a-ling

 

[BLUEBLOOD]

Mine is quite an obvious one. I keep a copy of it at my desk at work:-

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise.

If you can dream and not make dreams your master,
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools.

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the will which says them, "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings, nor lose the common touch.
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much.
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a man my son.

Rudyard Kippling

This was read at my grandads funeral, at it was a favourite of his too.. if there was a dry eye in the house at the start there certainly wasn't after.. a truly moving and awe inspiring piece of work. If more people lived to the virtues and morals contained therein the world would be a happier, more peaceful place

 

[canveyshrimper]

This was read at my grandads funeral, at it was a favourite of his too.. if there was a dry eye in the house at the start there certainly wasn't after.. a truly moving and awe inspiring piece of work. If more people lived to the virtues and morals contained therein the world would be a happier, more peaceful place

Spot on.
I read this as a eulogy at my grandfathers funeral, and just managed to get through it before the emotions took over.

 

[Napster]

The Soldier
Rupert Brooke

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

 

[Cricko2]

Nothing beats this for me ..It was my Mum when she died.

http://www.alternativehealth.co.nz/moveon/index.htm


Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die


*Sad Now*

 

[Davros]

There was a young man from Ceasers
Who had a lot of sexual Diseases
A bird sucked on his c*ck
and got quite a shock
when she came down with the sneezes

 

[osymandus]

Mines probably a little obvious :D

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Ozymandias Percy Shelly

 

[Bazza the dog]

Aye aye aye aye
Si, Si senoria,
My sister Belinda
She ****ed out the winda
All over my favorite sombrero

I said, "You fat ****, you ****ed on my hat!"
She said, "I don't f**king well care-o."
Aye aye aye aye
Me and my soggy sombrero
I said, "You fat ****, you ****ed on my hat!"
he said, "I don't f**king well care-o."

 

[Bazza the dog]

Brilliant, what a funny programme.

I preferred:

Hear the words I sing,
War's a horrid thing,
So I sing, sing, sing,
Ding-a-ling-a-ling

 

[Benfleet A1]

Brilliant, what a funny programme.

Not forgetting the classic, The German Guns


BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM, BOOM BOOM BOOM. BOOM BOOM, BOOM BOOM, BOOM BOOM BOOM.