Favorite Poems

The Road Not Taken
BY ROBERT FROST


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

 

Little birdy in the air,
Why'd you do that in my hair?

 

You need a infusion of culture. :flower:

Emily Dickinson #1723

High from the earth I heard a bird;
He trod upon the trees
As he esteemed them trifles,
And then he spied a breeze,
And situated softly
Upon a pile of wind
Which in a perturbation
Nature had left behind.
A joyous-going fellow
I gathered from his talk,
Which both of benediction
And badinage partook,
Without apparent burden,
I learned, in leafy wood
He was the faithful father
Of a dependent brood;
And this untoward transport
His remedy for care,—
A contrast to our respites.
How different we are!

 

I have the sudden urge for a cup of Earl Grey served on a doily.

 

Here's one of mine:

ABE, IKE, AND JAKE

Of all the tenets throughout all the Bible
This one stands tall without a mistake:
The Good News began with the Hebrews in tribal—
There was Abe; there was Ike; there was Jake.

Abe was the one who started it all;
He journeyed to Canaan from Ur.
He never did waver, but answered God’s call.
Things would not again be as they were.

His name predicated “A Father Exalted;”
His wife’s, of a “Princess who quarrels.”
The promise of children they never defaulted;
They were not ones to rest on their laurels.

But Sarah was barren; she and Abe both uneasy;
God had promised them many descendants.
So they set for themselves a course kind of sleazy,
Which made them, in God’s eyes, defendants.

“I promised a son born of Sarah, your wife,”
Said the God of old Abe’s sole devotion.
“And am I not the only Creator of life?
You’ll have sons vast as sands of the ocean!”

Sarah heard these bold words, which to her were a tickle,
And her face was compelled into laughter.
But when God knew she laughed, she felt scared—in a pickle—
Her son’s name would recall this thereafter.

So Sarah bore Ike—“One who Laughs,” means his name
He was soon mocked by big brother, Ish--
Being also Abe’s son, yet their moms not the same,
Was ejected on Sarah’s charged wish.

Then God tested Abe by His puzzling command
To sacrifice Ike on Moriah.
And Abe followed through; then God told him no hand
Would be used to make Ike a pariah.

So Abe made an A on the ultimate test--
Will a man sacrifice his own son?--
His flesh and his blood, the one he loves best,
If that alone’s how redemption is won?

So 2 sons there were to beget their own nations,
But just one was the prophesied blessing.
Both names would be praised by to-come generations
But just Ike’s would have God’s own addressing.

As Abe then advanced into long golden years,
With Sarah now gone from his side,
He retained one of Sarah’s most prevalent fears:
That his son choose a Canaanite bride.

So Abe took his man, who had charge of his house,
And enjoined him to go on a trek
Back to Abe’s former home, for to seek Isaac’s spouse,
And he found Nahor’s daughter, Rebek.

He knew she’s the one, for he’d asked for a sign
From the Great God his master reveres.
All facets requested did cleanly align;
To Canaan she went without tears.

There Ike was still mourning his mom, Sarah’s, death,
As Rebek then arrived on a camel.
He then ran to meet her, was soon out of breath,
As she jumped from that tall, mangy mammal.

So Ike’s disposition was now turned to joy
And he took Rebek into his tent.
In that day and age they just didn’t play coy,
But cut quick to their passions’ consent.

Before old Abe died he reminded his son
Of the contract they had with their God
To remember the great things He’d already done
And he’d keep all the land they now trod.

Then Abe passed away from his bountiful life,
Content that he’d met God’s commands.
Laid to rest by his sons beside Sarah, his wife,
Ike and Ish then dwelt in their own lands.

Then Ike and Rebek lived as husband and wife;
For two decades their children were none.
They understood Sarah's and Abe’s kind of strife,
Till the LORD heard Ike’s prayer for a son.

Ike got double, in fact, his answer to prayer,
As Rebek anguished, carrying twins.
Ike looked forward to having a son and an heir;
Yet with two, only one offspring wins.

Rebek then delivered the first of two boys--
His skin displayed red hair, so thick.
The second at birth did the first of his ploys
And grabbed Red’s heel, foretelling a trick.

And Esau the Red became skilled as an archer;
Twin Jake was content to stay home.
And Rebek’s shifty scheme led to Jake’s long departure,
And would make him a man long to roam.

For Ike’s favored son was the older, red Esau,
While Rebek was more partial to Jake.
But old Ike was tricked by the gamble that she saw,
And the “Esau” that Ike blessed was fake.

Having come home from hunting, bedazzled with hunger,
Red demanded a bowl of Jake’s stew.
The price, his twin told him, was to give him—the younger—
The birthright the older was due.

“What good is a birthright to a man who is starving?”
Said Esau, despising his title.
Rebek’s plan was now in Jake’s hands for the carving.
But the next step was even more vital.

For Ike, as he aged, became virtually blind;
He prepared to give Esau that blessing.
But Jake and Rebek had a plot so designed
To leave Ike with no course but his guessing.

She prepared Ike a dish and cut skins of a goat;
Thus connived at Jake’s impersonation.
After Ike felt the hair he gave Jacob his vote
And he blessed him with strong acclamation.

As Esau then knew he’d been shafted again,
He pled for any blessing remaining.
But all to be gained thus was painfully thin,
And his grudge against Jake was now reigning.

Rebek overheard and warned Jacob to flee
From the bounds of Esau’s deadly rage,
Which she knew would last long, but she still could foresee
That in coming years he’d be more sage.

So Jacob fled Canaan, by his mother’s direction,
His course set for her kindred’s land.
He met God on his way and gained great introspection
As he slept between rocks on the sand.

He saw, in his dream, a heavenly ladder,
Which angels did climb and descend.
At the top was the LORD, who spoke of the matter
That Jake He would always attend;

That Abe’s and Ike’s promise would now go to Jake,
That of Esau he need not be fretful,
That the land all around him his children would take.
He awoke then and called the place Bethel.

 

Don't forget the biscuits and scones.

I had a little tea party, this afternoon at three
Twas very small, three guests in all, I, Myself, and Me
Myself ate up the sandwiches, while I drank up the tea
Twas also I who ate the pie and passed the cake to me!

 

Many faves. Here's one.

On Turning Ten - by Billy Collins



The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.


You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.

But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.

At four I was an Arabian wizard.

I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.

At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.


But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.

Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.


This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.

It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.


It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.

If you cut me I could shine.

But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees.
I bleed.

 

Nice one Crabtownboy. I have always loved Ulyesses by Alfred Lord Tennyson, and a very funny one called Said Hanrahan by John O' Brien.

 

One of my favs:

MAUD MULLER -- John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892)

MAUD MULLER, on a summer's day,
Raked the meadows sweet with hay.

Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth
Of simple beauty and rustic health.

Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee
The mock-bird echoed from his tree.

But, when she glanced to the far-off town,
White from its hill-slope looking down,

The sweet song died, and a vague unrest
And a nameless longing filled her breast--

A wish, that she hardly dared to own,
For something better than she had known.

The Judge rode slowly down the lane,
Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane.

He drew his bridle in the shade
Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid,

And ask a draught from the spring that flowed
Through the meadow across the road.

She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up,
And filled for him her small tin cup,

And blushed as she gave it, looking down
On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown.

"Thanks!" said the Judge, "a sweeter draught
From a fairer hand was never quaffed."

He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees,
Of the singing birds and the humming bees;

Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether
The cloud in the west would bring foul weather.

And Maud forgot her briar-torn gown,
And her graceful ankles bare and brown;

And listened, while a pleasant surprise
Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes.

At last, like one who for delay
Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away,

Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah, me!
That I the Judge's bride might be!

"He would dress me up in silks so fine,
And praise and toast me at his wine.

"My father should wear a broadcloth coat;
My brother should sail a painted boat.

"I'd dress my mother so grand and gay,
And the baby should have a new toy each day.

"And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor,
And all should bless me who left our door."

The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill,
And saw Maud Muller standing still.

"A form more fair, a face more sweet,
Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet.

"And her modest answer and graceful air
Show her wise and good as she is fair.

"Would she were mine, and I to-day,
Like her, a harvester of hay:

"No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs,
Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues,

"But low of cattle, and song of birds,
And health, and quiet, and loving words."

But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold,
And his mother, vain of her rank and gold.

So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on,
And Maud was left in the field alone.

But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,
When he hummed in court an old love-tune;

And the young girl mused beside the well,
Till the rain on the unraked clover fell.

He wedded a wife of richest dower,
Who lived for fashion, as he for power.

Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow,
He watched a picture come and go:

And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes
Looked out in their innocent surprise.

Oft when the wine in his glass was red,
He longed for the wayside well instead;

And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms,
To dream of meadows and clover-blooms.

And the proud man sighed, with a secret pain,
"Ah, that I were free again!

"Free as when I rode that day,
Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay."

She wedded a man unlearned and poor,
And many children played round her door.

But care and sorrow, and child-birth pain,
Left their traces on heart and brain.

And oft, when the summer sun shone hot
On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot,

And she heard the little spring brook fall
Over the roadside, through the wall,

In the shade of the apple-tree again
She saw a rider draw his rein,

And, gazing down with timid grace,
She felt his pleased eyes read her face.

Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
Stretched away into stately halls;

The weary wheel to a spinnet turned,
The tallow candle an astral burned;

And for him who sat by the chimney lug,
Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug,

A manly form at her side she saw,
And joy was duty and love was law.

Then she took up her burden of life again,
Saying only, "It might have been."

Alas for maiden, alas for Judge,
For rich repiner and household drudge!

God pity them both! and pity us all,
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall;

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been!" {emphasis mine}

Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried from human eyes;

And, in the hereafter, angels may
Roll the stone from its grave away!

 

This one has been a favorite since I was around seven. I've always loved to watch waves crashing on rocks, then it goes further and brings the power of love into it, along with a sense of struge against the powers that be. So happy yet so sad.
By Edgar Allen Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee; —
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love —
I and my Annabel Lee —
With a love that the wingéd seraphs in Heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre,
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me —
Yes! — that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we —
Of many far wiser than we —
And neither the angels in Heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: —

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: —
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling — my darling — my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea —
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

 

An isosceles triangle low in the west--
Jupiter, Venus, the Moon.
These make up the points in th' horizon's low crest--
Jupiter, Venus, the Moon.
These lights reassure us our day's now at rest.
Whatever we did this day, may it be bless'd.
When we see them tomorrow night, we'll reattest--
Jupiter, Venus, the Moon.