Law School Discussion

The Poetry Thread


  • *****
  • 13843
    • View Profile
Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #20 on: July 21, 2006, 06:20:44 AM »
I also like Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost:

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.

Short, simple, and rhyming.  That's how I like my poems 8).  I especially like the last stanza (The woods...)...that's how I feel every time I watch TV during the school year...

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #21 on: July 21, 2006, 06:21:36 AM »
One of my favorite poets is John Donne

by John Donne

FOR God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love ;
    Or chide my palsy, or my gout ;
    My five gray hairs, or ruin'd fortune flout ;
With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve ;
        Take you a course, get you a place,
        Observe his Honour, or his Grace ;
Or the king's real, or his stamp'd face
    Contemplate ; what you will, approve,
    So you will let me love.

Alas ! alas ! who's injured by my love?
    What merchant's ships have my sighs drown'd?
    Who says my tears have overflow'd his ground?
When did my colds a forward spring remove?
        When did the heats which my veins fill
        Add one more to the plaguy bill?
Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still
    Litigious men, which quarrels move,
    Though she and I do love.

Call's what you will, we are made such by love ;
    Call her one, me another fly,
    We're tapers too, and at our own cost die,
And we in us find th' eagle and the dove.
        The phoenix riddle hath more wit
        By us ; we two being one, are it ;
So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit.
    We die and rise the same, and prove
    Mysterious by this love.

We can die by it, if not live by love,
    And if unfit for tomb or hearse
    Our legend be, it will be fit for verse ;
And if no piece of chronicle we prove,
        We'll build in sonnets pretty rooms ;
        As well a well-wrought urn becomes
The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs,
    And by these hymns, all shall approve
    Us canonized for love ;

And thus invoke us, "You, whom reverend love
    Made one another's hermitage ;
    You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage ;
Who did the whole world's soul contract, and drove
        Into the glasses of your eyes ;
        So made such mirrors, and such spies,
That they did all to you epitomize—
    Countries, towns, courts beg from above
    A pattern of your love." :'(

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #22 on: July 21, 2006, 06:22:40 AM »
And here's another one:

by John Donne

GO and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devil's foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
            And find
            What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.

If thou be'st born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,
All strange wonders that befell thee,
            And swear,
            No where
Lives a woman true and fair.

If thou find'st one, let me know,
Such a pilgrimage were sweet;
Yet do not, I would not go,
Though at next door we might meet,
Though she were true, when you met her,
And last, till you write your letter,
            Yet she
            Will be
False, ere I come, to two, or three.


  • *****
  • 8220
  • The High Priestess
    • View Profile
Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #23 on: July 21, 2006, 06:26:46 AM »

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
And so are you


  • ****
  • 208
  • Rebel Law - why what happens in Vegas stays here.
    • View Profile
Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #24 on: July 21, 2006, 06:47:52 AM »
Here's one that I wrote. It is included in my first self published collection, "emissions",  (Lulu Press).

City Night
by M. Richard Smith

Watching shadows
through the moonless night,
catching only glimpses
in the light of passing cars.
The pounding of the ground
beneath my calloused feet,
echoes incomplete
through my existence.

A distant siren sings,
making music in my ears
and sending visions,
somewhat clear, in my

Scenes of love,
neglected and abused
and of children
dressed in tattered clothes,
with soiled hands
and messy faces,
eating from a can
of cold soup,
while mommy
turns a trick
and chases dragons
on the other side of town.

A dog is barking,
but not without distinction,
and I wonder what it really means,
what I should be thinking,
when a woman screams
in rhythmic ecstasy,
that she


But soon,
the gunshots ringing near
incite the fears of my reality
and tempt the haste of my escape.
And curtly so,
the bitter taste of silence
against the thickness
of the sultry
city night.


Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #25 on: July 21, 2006, 06:52:50 AM »
I like the poem.  Congrats on being published!!


  • *****
  • 10967
  • Did ya do it? Then why are ya sorry?
    • View Profile
Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #26 on: July 21, 2006, 07:10:16 AM »
What I wish I was doing:

by Rita Dove 
I love the hour before takeoff,
that stretch of no time, no home
but the gray vinyl seats linked like
unfolding paper dolls. Soon we shall
be summoned to the gate, soon enough
there’ll be the clumsy procedure of row numbers
and perforated stubs—but for now
I can look at these ragtag nuclear families
with their cooing and bickering
or the heeled bachelorette trying
to ignore a baby’s wail and the baby’s
exhausted mother waiting to be called up early
while the athlete, one monstrous hand
asleep on his duffel bag, listens,
perched like a seal trained for the plunge.
Even the lone executive
who has wandered this far into summer
with his lasered itinerary, briefcase
knocking his knees—even he
has worked for the pleasure of bearing
no more than a scrap of himself
into this hall. He’ll dine out, she’ll sleep late,
they’ll let the sun burn them happy all morning
—a little hope, a little whimsy
before the loudspeaker blurts
and we leap up to become
Flight 828, now boarding at Gate 17.


Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #27 on: July 21, 2006, 09:51:12 AM »

Wise I
Amiri Baraka

    WHYS (Nobody Knows
    The Trouble I Seen)

If you ever find
yourself, some where
lost and surrounded
by enemies
who won't let you
speak in your own language
who destroy your statues
& instruments, who ban
your omm bomm ba boom
then you are in trouble
deep trouble
they ban your
own boom ba boom
you in deep deep


probably take you several hundred years
to get


  • *****
  • 10507
  • where dreams you dare to dream really do come true
    • View Profile
Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #28 on: December 04, 2006, 05:06:22 PM »

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #29 on: December 27, 2006, 09:14:29 AM »
I know this is mad ol' school, but it's still my favorite poem of all time

Claude McKay, If We Must Die

If we must die, let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,
While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,
Making their mock at our accursed lot.
If we must die, O let us nobly die,
So that our precious blood may not be shed
In vain; then even the monsters we defy
Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!
O kinsmen we must meet the common foe!
Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,
And for their thousand blows deal one deathblow!
What though before us lies the open grave?
Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack,
Press'd to the wall, dying, but fighting back!