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What is your favourite poem, and why? (self.asklemmy)

submitted 6 months ago by Bluetreefrog to c/asklemmy

66 comments fedilink hide all child comments

(page 2) 16 comments

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[–] [email protected] 1 points 6 months ago* (last edited 6 months ago)

Baudelaire- la beauté

It's a beautifully worded sonnet on the nature of beauty, but meta as in how the poet is swayed by it and how he both loves that and is annoyed by the ease with with he's enthralled

[–] UtMan1988 1 points 6 months ago

The Charge Of The Light Brigade by Alfred, Lord Tennyson!

Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die. Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.

It's been my mantra and my battlecry for the past few years now. Love it.

[–] g_the_b 1 points 6 months ago

Pale Fire, because I'm a try hard poser I think

[–] liquidapricity 1 points 6 months ago

London

By William Blake

I wander thro' each charter'd street,

Near where the charter'd Thames does flow.

And mark in every face I meet

Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man,

In every Infants cry of fear,

In every voice: in every ban,

The mind-forg'd manacles I hear

How the Chimney-sweepers cry

Every blackning Church appalls,

And the hapless Soldiers sigh

Runs in blood down Palace walls

But most thro' midnight streets I hear

How the youthful Harlots curse

Blasts the new-born Infants tear

And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse

[–] [email protected] 1 points 6 months ago

I like these two a lot. Mainly because they're the only two that stuck with me.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L(a

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Love_Song_of_J._Alfred_Prufrock

[–] [email protected] 1 points 6 months ago* (last edited 6 months ago) (1 children)

Little potato when it is born
Spreads its branches on the ground
Little girl when she sleeps
Puts her hand on her heart

I am tiny
The size of a button
I carry daddy in my pocket
And mommy in my heart

The pocket got a hole
And daddy fell on the ground
Mommy who is the dearest
Stayed in my heart

load more comments (1 replies)

[–] [email protected] 1 points 6 months ago (1 children)

So wie die Ordnung stets in Chaos geht,
wenn keine Kraft dagegen steht,
so herrscht das Chaos nie allein:
Es braucht die Ordnung, um zu sein.

[–] [email protected] 1 points 6 months ago

Das Chaos, das sich selbst bezwingt,
indem es langsam Ordnung bringt,
gebiert aus Dunkelheit und Dreck
schön langsam, aber stetig, Form und Zweck,
kurz: Leben, das sich selbst erhält,
und auch im Sturme Kraft behält,
um nach dem Regen neu zu blühn,
so wie auch wir es alle tun.

[–] afraid_of_zombies 1 points 6 months ago

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51642/invictus

Toughen up

[–] [email protected] 1 points 6 months ago

The poop that took a pee - Butters

[–] kn33 1 points 6 months ago

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48419/this-be-the-verse

[–] [email protected] 0 points 6 months ago

Billy Connolly's "Mary Rose"

Mary Rose
Sat on a pin
Mary rose

[–] [email protected] 0 points 6 months ago

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood.

How much shit could a dipshit dip if a dipshit could dip shit.

[–] recapitated 0 points 6 months ago* (last edited 6 months ago)

Here I sit, same as ever. Took a dump, pulled the lever. The toilet clogged. The water flowed. Look out world, it's a motherload!.