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» Scarleteen Boards: 2000 - 2014 (Archive) » SCARLETEEN CENTRAL » The Randoms » favorite poem

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Author Topic: favorite poem
Chyna2255
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I was just wondering what everyones favorite poem is mine is Footprints in the sand

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"We who are truley brave will never live in fear" The Rock


Posts: 25 | From: denver,co,usa | Registered: Apr 2002  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
Milke
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A CandleLion Poem

Turn a candle inside out
and you've got the smallest
portion of a lion standing
there at the edge of the
shadows.
- Richard Brautigan

He's one of my favourite writers, very sad and beautiful and quirky all at once, and one of his best talents was the ability to find something wonderful in the simplest things.
Another good (and longer!) one's at http://www.diggers.org/digpaps68/allwat68.html
and seems especially appropriate now, even though it's over thirty years old, and RB himself realy didn't survive long enough to have any idea what was to come of computers.

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Why scream and cry when you know it's true?
Why fall in love when there's better things to do?


Posts: 5122 | From: I *came* from the land of ice and snow | Registered: Aug 2000  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
Titabooki
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Member # 8305

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my favorite is by Sandra Ciseneros (haha, what DONT i like from this woman?)

it's long, but it's perfect; it's called down there

your poem thinks it's bad.
Because it farts in the bath.
Cracks its knuckles in class.
Grabs its balls in public
and adjusts--one,
then the other--
back and forth like Slinky. No,
more like the motion
of a lava lamp.
You follow me?


Your poem thinks it
cool to pee in the pool.
Waits for the moment
someone's watching before
it sticks a finger up
its nose and licks
it. Your poem's wierd.


The kind that swaggers in like Wayne
or struts its stuff like Rambo.
The kind that learned to spit at 13 and still
is doing it.


It blames its bad habits
on the Catholic School. Picked up words that
snapped like bra straps.
Learned words that ignite
of thier gas
like a butt hole flower.
Fell in love with words
that thudded like stones and sticks.
OR stung like fists.
Or stank like shit
gorillas throw at zoos.


Your poem never washes
its hands after using the can.
Stands around rolling
toilet paper into wet balls
it can toss up to the ceiling
just to watch them stick.
Yuk yuk.


Your poem is a used rubber
sticky on the floor
the next morning,


the black elephant
skin of the testicles,
hairy as kiwi fruit
and silly,
the shaving
stubble against the purity
of porcelain,


one black public
hair on the sexy
lip of toilet seat,


the swirl of spit
with a cream of celery
center,


a cigarette
stub sent hissing
to the piss pot,


half-finished
bottles of beer reeking
thier yeast incense,


the miscellany of maleness:
nail clippers and keys,
tabacco and ashes,
pennies quarters nickels dimes and
dollars folded into complicated origami,
stub of ticket and pencil and cigarette, and the crumb of the pockets
all scattered on the Irish
linen of the bedside table.


Oh my little booger
it's true.


Because someone once
said Don't
do that!
you like to do it.


Baby, I'd like to mention
the Tampax you pulled with your teeth
one in a Playboy poem
and found it, darling, not so bloody.
Not so bloody at all in fact.
Hardly blood causin
except for an unfortunate
association of color
that makes you want to swoon.


Yes,
I want to talk at length about Men-
struation. Or my period.


Or the rag as you so lovingly put it.
All right then.


I'd like to mention my rag time.


Gelatinous. Steamy
and lovely to the light to look at
like a good glass of burgundy. Suddenly
I'm an artist each month.
The star inside this like a ruby.
Fascinating bits of sticky
I-dont-know-what-stuff.
The afterbirth without the birth.
The gobs of a strawberry jam.
Membrane stretchy like
saliva in your hand.


It's important you feel its slickness,
understand the texture isn't bloody at all.
That you don't gush
between the legs. Rather,
it unravels itself like string
from some deep deep center--
like a Russian subatomic submarine,
or better, like a mad Karlov cackling
behind beakers and blooping spirals.
STill with me?


Oh I know darling,
I'm indulging, but indulge
me if you please.
I find the subject charming.


In fact,
I'd like to dab my fingers
in my inkwell
and write a poem across the wall.
"A Poem of Womanhood"
Now wouldn't that be something?


Words writ in blood. but no,
not blood at all, I told you.
IF blood is thicker than water, then
menstruation is thicker than brother-
hood. And the way


it matamorphosizes! Dazzles.
Changing daily
like starlight.
From the first
transparent drop of light
to the fifth day chocolate paste.


I haven't mentioned smell. Think
Persian rug.
But thicker. Think
cello.
But richer.
A sweet exotic snuff
from an ancient prehistoric center.
Dark, distinct,
and excellently
female.


Posts: 4 | From: Southern California | Registered: May 2002  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
Gumdrop Girl
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shakespeare "Sonnet CXXX"

hmm, I like poetry, but perhaps it'd be best if we gave titles, authors and book/collection/anthology titles instead of quoting the poem at length. that way we can avoid messy copyright violations and conserve bandwidth

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Color is for crayons, not for people.


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badly_behaved_badger
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Member # 7728

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I like this poem because I can relate to it in some ways:

I've run a lifetime on my two strong feet Through the smooth times and the rough,
But looking back through the chaos of time Did I run far enough?

I seen the world through bullet holes
Tried to fight for tolerance and good,
Only to sit here, child again,
Unheard, misunderstood. - Anon


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Pumpkin_Pie
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Member # 5822

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My favourite( that's a toughie to find) is anything by W.B. Yeats, but especially this one:

To a child dancing in the wind

Dance there upon the shore,
What need have you to fear, wind or water's roar?
And tumble out your hair that the salt drops have wet.
Being young you have not known,
the fool's triumph,
Nor love lost as soon as won,
Or the best labourer dead, and all the sheaves to bind.
What need have you to dread the monstrous crying of wind?

Its kinda sad but brilliant.


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Beppie
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Member # 94

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An excellent resource for finding poetry that is past its copyright is http://www.geocities.com/~spanoudi/poems

Personally, my favourite poem is Tennyson's Lady of Shallot, which is definitely too long to post here.


Posts: 2710 | From: Australia | Registered: Jun 2000  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
   

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