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Which poets do you like?

ooana

By ooana
in New York / New Jersey

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ooana Newbie

ooana

Posted
Posted

Personally I'm a big fan of Anne Sexton and e.e. cummings.

Here's an example of Sexton. This poem brought me to tears when I first read it, to the point that I refused to read more of her work until I could manage the emotions that it brought up in me. I hope you enjoy it.

Would love to hear of anyone elses favorites/recommendations if willing to share.

OLD DWARF HEART by Anne Sexton

When I lie down to love,

old dwarf heart shakes her head.

Like an imbecile she was born old.

Her eyes wobble as thirty-one thick folds

of skin open to glare at me on my flickering bed.

She knows the decay we're made of.

When hurt she is abrupt.

Now she is solid, like fat,

breathing in loops like a green hen

in the dust. But if I dream of loving, then

my dreams are of snarling strangers. *She* dreams that...

Strange, strange, and corrupt.

Good God, the things she knows!

And worse, the sores she holds

in her hand, gathered in like a nest

from an abandonded field. At her best

she is all red muscle, humming in and out, cajoled

by time. Where I go, she goes.

Oh now I lay me down to love,

how awkwardly her arms undo,

how patiently I untangle her wrists

like knots. Old ornament, old naked fist,

even if I put on seventy coats I could not cover you...

mother, father, I'm made of.

------------------

"When the soul wishes to experience something, she throws an image of the experience out before her, and enters into her own image." -Eckhart

"Solitude gives birth to the original in us, beauty unfamiliar and perilous - to poetry." - Thomas Mann

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myrlin Newbie

myrlin

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Oddly enough, although I like good writing and powerful words, Ive never had a "Favorite" poet writer or a favorite type of style.

I tend to ride my emotions, whatever they are, dependant on what I see, hear and feel. I regret not marking down passages I've read in the past simply because it puts me at a loss to answer this type of question.

One day, perhaps. However, Ive learned to appreciate beautiful things and maybe, just maybe Ill have an answer in the future.

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trippintrance64 Newbie

trippintrance64

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mine is Neruda....here are three poems written by him

POETRY

And it was at that age...Poetry arrived

in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where

it came from, from winter or a river.

I don't know how or when,

no, they were not voices, they were not

words, nor silence,

but from a street I was summoned,

from the branches of night,

abruptly from the others,

among violent fires

or returning alone,

there I was without a face

and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth

had no way

with names

my eyes were blind,

and something started in my soul,

fever or forgotten wings,

and I made my own way,

deciphering

that fire

and I wrote the first faint line,

faint, without substance, pure

nonsense,

pure wisdom

of someone who knows nothing,

and suddenly I saw

the heavens

unfastened

and open,

planets,

palpitating planations,

shadow perforated,

riddled

with arrows, fire and flowers,

the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesmal being,

drunk with the great starry

void,

likeness, image of

mystery,

I felt myself a pure part

of the abyss,

I wheeled with the stars,

my heart broke free on the open sky.

SADDEST POEM

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,

and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.

I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.

How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.

And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.

The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.

My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.

My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.

We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.

My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once

belonged to my kisses.

Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.

Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,

my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,

and this may be the last poem I write for her.

CLENCHED SOUL

We have lost even this twilight.

No one saw us this evening hand in hand

while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window

the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sun

burned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenched

in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?

Who else was there?

Saying what?

Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly

when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closed at twilight

and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the evenings

toward the twilight erasing statues.

------------------

-----"A man makes his sunshine, and he makes his rain. Look at what you have, and where you are, before you say, "I've had a horrible day" Appreciate what you have, and realize how much others wish they could have that much. Live Life, and LOVE IT!" --Me

-----"THE BOWL OF FREEDOM IS KICKED! THE BOWL OF FREEDOM IS KICKED!" Melissa of the NJ ChaCha's

-----"I can walk in straight lines, within my own crooked world" -a drunken Aramis Ponte

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ichi_gami Newbie

ichi_gami

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William Cullen Bryant, Goethe, Brian Dodds, Ogden Nash, Nostradamus, R.L. Stevenson, Frost, Poe, Wordsworth, Longfellow, Keats, Yeats, and Dr. Seuss!

Perhaps Erika Jong makes the list, as well, though I can only say I like some of her work.

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"Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction." - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

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safitamace319 Newbie

safitamace319

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Originally posted by myrlin:

Oddly enough, although I like good writing and powerful words, Ive never had a "Favorite" poet writer or a favorite type of style.

I tend to ride my emotions, whatever they are, dependant on what I see, hear and feel. I regret not marking down passages I've read in the past simply because it puts me at a loss to answer this type of question.

One day, perhaps. However, Ive learned to appreciate beautiful things and maybe, just maybe Ill have an answer in the future.

cwm7.gif

i agree myrlin!!! hehe. but if i had to pick here are a few worth checkin out: Maya Angelou, Khalil Gibran, Poe, Frost, TS Eliot, Voltaire,Dickinson, etc. although dickinson i'm convinced was crazy. oh well most of em were. but hey tha'ts what made their words live on, ironic isn't it? just my .02 worth.

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nycetouch Newbie

nycetouch

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Walt Whitman

you shall no longer take things at second or third hand, not look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books,

You shall no longer look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,

You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.

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