Favourite Poem

[Scarby]

what's yours, if you have one.

Mine has to be Half-Caste by John Agard. I remember doing it at GCSE and it has stuck ever since. It has meaning and humour, its great.

Excuse me
standing on one leg
I’m half-caste.

Explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean when Picasso
mix red an green
is a half-caste canvas?
explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean when light an shadow
mix in de sky
is a half-caste weather?
well in dat case
england weather
nearly always half-caste
in fact some o dem cloud
half-caste till dem overcast
so spiteful dem don’t want de sun pass
ah rass?
explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean tchaikovsky
sit down at dah piano
an mix a black key
wid a white key
is a half-caste symphony?

Explain yuself
wha yu mean
Ah listening to yu wid de keen
half of mih ear
Ah looking at yu wid de keen
half of mih eye
an when I’m introduced to yu
I’m sure you’ll understand
why I offer yu half-a-hand
an when I sleep at night
I close half-a-eye
consequently when I dream
I dream half-a-dream
an when moon begin to glow
I half-caste human being
cast half-a-shadow
but yu must come back tomorrow
wid de whole of yu eye
an de whole of yu ear
an de whole of yu mind.

an I will tell yu
de other half
of my story.

 

[spionfox]

Mine is anything that starts with:

There was an old lady from Haydock....

 

[MHS]

My favourite poem is called Nits, it goes something like this...

Adam 'ad 'em.

 

[spionfox]

My favourite poem is called Nits, it goes something like this...

Adam 'ad 'em.

That's almost palindromic.

 

[Scarby]

or...

Boom, boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom

 

[Matt_B]

For me it has to be The Raven by Poe

 

[muzzysgal]

My favourite poem is one that Graham Mack (don't laugh) wrote called The Homemade Flag.

I've been trying to locate it for a while, but with no success.

Any help on the matter would be most appreciated.

 

[Melton Fox]

An Ode to Talking Balls by Melton Fox.

Yep couldn't agree more Scarbs, Melton Fox for me all the way

An Ode to Talking Balls is one of the best pieces of modern literature that I have ever read. Top poetry Melts

Melton Fox is my hero , I would love him to sing that whilst making love to me, but hey, a girl's gotta dream.

Cheers guys and gals, I'm filling up here :icon_redf

 

[spionfox]

Cheers guys and gals, I'm filling up here :icon_redf

 

[highland fox]

And thus among these rocks he lived,
Through summer heat and winter snow:
The Eagle, he was lord above,
And Rob was lord below

 

[City Fan]

Favourite Poem? What kind of a fecking sissy thread is this?!?!?!?!

 

[fcukcov]

For me it has to be The Raven by Poe

When done by the simpsons, oh yes.

 

[Scarby]

Favourite Poem? What kind of a fecking sissy thread is this?!?!?!?!

:icon_roll

 

[Hector]

"The force that through the green fuze drives the flower"

by Dylan Thomas

 

[Matt_B]

"The force that through the green fuze drives the flower"

by Dylan Thomas

Not really a poem at all I suppose, but I like under milkwood

 

[Singth]

Ip dip dog shit

Suckin on ya Mother's tit

 

[Hector]

Not really a poem at all I suppose, but I like under milkwood

"...houses blind as moles, but moles see fine tonight in their snouting velvet dingles."

 

[Scarby]

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

 

[City Fan]

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Even with cutting and pasting, Scarbs still makes no bloody sense! :icon_lol:

 

[spionfox]

Even with cutting and pasting, Scarbs still makes no bloody sense! :icon_lol:

On the contrary, I was moved to tears.