Favourite Poems

The poem from The Perks of Being a Wallflower has always stuck with me for some reason.

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
and he called it "chops"
because that was the name of his dog
and thats what it was all about
his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
and his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts.
that was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
and he let them sing on the bus
and his little sister was born
with tiny nails and no hair
and his mother and father kissed alot
and the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
and his father always tucked him in bed at night
and was always there to do it

once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
and that's what it was all about
and his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
beause of the new paint
and the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
and left butts on the pews
and sometimes they would burn holes
that was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
and the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see santa claus
and the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed alot
and his father never tucked him in bed at night
and his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it

once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
and he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
and thats what it was all about
and his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
that was the year Father Tracy died
and he forgot how the end
of the Apostles's Creed went
and he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
and his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
and the girl around the corner
wore too much make up
that made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because it was the thing to do
and at 3 a.m. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly

that's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
and he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
because that's what it was really all about
and he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
and he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen----​

 

My favorite poem is Dylan Thomas' "And Death Shall Have No Dominion." A passage from it is quoted in my signature and my custom user title is part of a line from it.

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead mean naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.

 

My all-time favorite poem is Dickinson's "'Hope' is the thing with feathers."

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

 

The More Loving One

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
--WH Auden

 

Thomas Hardy (1840-1928)
The Convergence of the Twain

(Lines on the loss of the Titanic)

I
1 In a solitude of the sea
2 Deep from human vanity,
3And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.

II
4 Steel chambers, late the pyres
5 Of her salamandrine fires,
6Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.

III
7 Over the mirrors meant
8 To glass the opulent
9The sea-worm crawls -- grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.

IV
10 Jewels in joy designed
11 To ravish the sensuous mind
12Lie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.

V
13 Dim moon-eyed fishes near
14 Gaze at the gilded gear
15And query: "What does this vaingloriousness down here?" ...

VI
16 Well: while was fashioning
17 This creature of cleaving wing,
18The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything

VII
19 Prepared a sinister mate
20 For her -- so gaily great --
21A Shape of Ice, for the time far and dissociate.

VIII
22 And as the smart ship grew
23 In stature, grace, and hue,
24In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too.

IX
25 Alien they seemed to be;
26 No mortal eye could see
27The intimate welding of their later history,

X
28 Or sign that they were bent
29 By paths coincident
30On being anon twin halves of one august event,

XI
31 Till the Spinner of the Years
32 Said "Now!" And each one hears,
33And consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres.

____________________

I'm not super into the Titanic, but this poem...well, a lot of Thomas Hardy's work actually...I just fall in love with it.

 

This poem describes how I felt in the closet.

Not Waving but Drowning





Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said Oh, no, no, no,
it was too cold always(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.




Stevie Smith