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What is your favourite poem, and why? (lemmy.world)

submitted 5 months ago by [email protected] to c/[email protected]

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[–] [email protected] 1 points 5 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 5 months ago

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

[–] [email protected] 1 points 5 months ago

The poop that took a pee - Butters

[–] [email protected] 1 points 5 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 5 months ago

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

[–] [email protected] 1 points 5 months ago

lighght

because it messes with my brain just righght

[–] [email protected] 1 points 5 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 5 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.

[–] [email protected] 1 points 5 months ago* (last edited 5 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

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[–] southsamurai 1 points 5 months ago

It's a tie tbh.

Between "the bells" for sheer joyous onomatopoeia, and "oh captain, my captain" because of the flow of it.

Both of them are poems I read out loud to myself, and there's not many of those. They both resonate inside me in different ways, and both are associated with my initial exploration of poetry.

I've never been able to pick one over the other.

And yeah, they're pretty basic poems rather than some more deeply personal things. It isn't an emotional connection to them, it's more of a sensory thing, if that makes sense (pun intended).

But, they both represent the way words can affect us, move our minds. They're an experience when you hear them. They're immersive and fulfilling, though in different ways.

[–] [email protected] 0 points 5 months ago

There was a young lady from Venus, Whose body was shaped like a - DATA!

-Star Trek TNG & Picard

[–] [email protected] 0 points 5 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.

[–] [email protected] 0 points 5 months ago* (last edited 5 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!.