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Author Topic: Books of Poetry  (Read 668 times)
thartley Offline
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« on: 04/21/2007 03:55 PM »

So, I was watching Patch Adams just now, and Robin Williams' character is reading a piece of a lovely sonnet to his lady friend, and I recognized it.  I have the book he is reading from.  The name of the book is "100 Love Sonnets" by Pablo Neruda and this is the one being read:


Pablo Neruda
Sonnet XVII (100 Love Sonnets, 1960)

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.



What are your favorite books of poetry?  Or poets?
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ZeroG Offline
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« Reply #1 on: 04/21/2007 05:11 PM »

I like Robert Frost. Everytime I surf for poetry, I end up on his work. I have my long time favorite, which I will post, but favorite right now is the one I just read...

Acceptance

When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud
And goes down burning into the gulf below,
No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud
At what has happened. Birds, at least must know
It is the change to darkness in the sky.
Murmuring something quiet in her breast,
One bird begins to close a faded eye;
Or overtaken too far from his nest,
Hurrying low above the grove, some waif
Swoops just in time to his remembered tree.
At most he thinks or twitters softly, 'Safe!
Now let the night be dark for all of me.
Let the night bee too dark for me to see
Into the future. Let what will be, be.'

-Robert Frost
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ZeroG Offline
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« Reply #2 on: 04/21/2007 05:16 PM »

I remember this one by heart since college. It has made a lasting impression on me.

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

-Robert Frost
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Ginafish Offline
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« Reply #3 on: 04/21/2007 08:26 PM »

This is one of my favorite children's poems:

The Toy Eater

You don't have to pick up your toys, okay?
You can leave 'em right there on the floor.
So tonight when the Terrible Toy-Eatin' Tookle
Comes tiptoein' in through the crack in the door,
He'll crunch all your soldiers, he'll munch on your trucks,
He'll chew your poor puppets to shreds,
He'll swallow your Big Wheel and slurp up your paints
And he'll bite off your dear dollies' heads.
Then he'll wipe off his lips with the sails of your ship,
And making a burpity noise,
He'll slither away -- but hey, that's okay,
You don't have to pick up your toys.

By Shel Silverstein
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Ginafish Offline
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« Reply #4 on: 04/21/2007 08:27 PM »

My favorite imagery poem:

 The Red Wheelbarrow
William Carlos Williams

    so much depends
    upon

    a red wheel
    barrow

    glazed with rain
    water

    beside the white
    chickens.
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thartley Offline
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« Reply #5 on: 04/22/2007 05:57 AM »

This is one of my favorite children's poems:

The Toy Eater

You don't have to pick up your toys, okay?
You can leave 'em right there on the floor.
So tonight when the Terrible Toy-Eatin' Tookle
Comes tiptoein' in through the crack in the door,
He'll crunch all your soldiers, he'll munch on your trucks,
He'll chew your poor puppets to shreds,
He'll swallow your Big Wheel and slurp up your paints
And he'll bite off your dear dollies' heads.
Then he'll wipe off his lips with the sails of your ship,
And making a burpity noise,
He'll slither away -- but hey, that's okay,
You don't have to pick up your toys.

By Shel Silverstein

My God!  I think I just became afraid of the dark all over again.  Thanks Gina!  Cheesy
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Ginafish Offline
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« Reply #6 on: 04/22/2007 07:52 AM »

Hehe Cheesy Your welcome! Hope the Toy Eater doesn't visit your house and that you keep your toys off the floor and put them where they belong! Lol Grin
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thartley Offline
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« Reply #7 on: 04/22/2007 10:52 AM »

My toys are all over the place... hmmm...I'll have to come up with a Toy Eater Eater poem to counteract yours.   Grin
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