Who's your favourite poet?
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I think it's quite obvious who mine is
Besides The Road Not Taken I also like Robert Frost's Mending Wall and Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.
So who's yours? What are their poems that you like? And if possible, put up some links to good sites for them as well!!!
here's a few links for Robert Frost:
http://www.robertfrost.org
htpp://frost.freehosting.net
from these two sites, you can get to most of the other Frosty websites as well. Enjoy!!!
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Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less travelled by.
And that has made all the difference
-- Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken -
hey liquid, c tt u corrected the poem. =)))
anyway, i don't exactly have a favourite poet.......o yar, don't know whether u read it in Life! or not. The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost was voted the most liked poem in America. =)) -
yup yup
corrected it liao
thanks to u of coz
issit?
i didn't read Life! leh....
but i'm not surprised that it is voted as the most fave poem in America.
It's just so nice!!!
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Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less travelled by.
And that has made all the difference
-- Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken -
Hi all,
I liked William Wordsworth, William Blake, Emily Sailers' "Ghost", Edgar Allan Poe's "Raven", Robert Burns, Rupert Brooke for poetry. I also loved the sonnets of Shakespeare, anyone fancy sonnets.. Tried to write but cannot get it right...
yours sincerely,
The Prodigal -
heard of Edgar Allan Poe, but ain't really familiar with his poems. William Blake is not bad. =) studied "The Tiger" in school. bout God and his creation. Don't really like Rupert Brooke thou'.....read "Waikiki" sounded rather too indirect to me....Originally posted by prodigal:Hi all,
I liked William Wordsworth, William Blake, Emily Sailers' "Ghost", Edgar Allan Poe's "Raven", Robert Burns, Rupert Brooke for poetry. I also loved the sonnets of Shakespeare, anyone fancy sonnets.. Tried to write but cannot get it right...
yours sincerely,
The Prodigal
prefer Thomas Hardy for his "Beeny Cliff" and Robert Frost -- "The Road Not Taken"
U.A.Fanthrope -- "Tomorrow and" is not bad.
oh, and John Milton's "On Time"!
[This message has been edited by t|rEd (edited 12 April 2000).] -
From Poe, I like The Raven myself
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Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less travelled by.
And that has made all the difference
-- Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken -
liquid: mind posting "the Raven" by Poe here? never read it before.....would very much like to see it.....since both u n prodigal love it so much. =) thanx!!
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The Raven
---------
by Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore! -
Hi t|rEd,
I posted it on this thread and hope you like it. The poem was actually done in one of the special Halloween specials of the Simpsons and was well illustrated.
Hi Liquid,
Rupert Brooke is quite a fascinating character, as he found a orchard in Grantchester which is near my University with six other crazy people who all became famous later, and they are from different disciplines like Bertrand Russell, Wittgenstein, Virginia Woolf and Keynes. If you can guess, u would know which university I am from, but do not post it but email it to me....
yours sincerely,
The Prodigal
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"I wish that I could have the love of a woman who could come to my life, lift me from sorrow, depression and loneliness, and push me to higher heights. However, love is not about finding someone to relieve you, but love is about you devoting your heart and soul to love that someone, even if you know that someone do not love you the way you do."
- Prodigal -
tired:
looks like Prodigal beat me to it :p
Prodigal:
do you have any websites for those poets?
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Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less travelled by.
And that has made all the difference
-- Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken -
Hi LiQuid!,
Very smart of you to guess it right.. Well, I would post the website link when I get back to my place tonight in UK time... -
Prodigal:
Thanks!!!
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Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less travelled by.
And that has made all the difference
-- Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken -
I missed that Simpson's episode! I like Poe's play with words, how long do I have to live and learn until words flow through like water from the tap of my mouth?
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Sex is not the answer. Sex is the question. Yes is the answer. -
Dear Liquid!,
Here is the URL for Edgar Allan Poe's homepage of poetry :
http://bau2.uibk.ac.at/sg/poe/Work.html
Have a good day...
yours sincerely,
The Prodigal
------------------
"I wish that I could have the love of a woman who could come to my life, lift me from sorrow, depression and loneliness, and push me to higher heights. However, love is not about finding someone to relieve you, but love is about you devoting your heart and soul to love that someone, even if you know that someone do not love you the way you do."
- Prodigal -
Hi MayaJade
I think you write and read very well.. U are quite good compared to most ladies. If you can continue the poem in the other thread, I would hope to write a duet with you.
yours sincerely,
The Prodigal
------------------
"I wish that I could have the love of a woman who could come to my life, lift me from sorrow, depression and loneliness, and push me to higher heights. However, love is not about finding someone to relieve you, but love is about you devoting your heart and soul to love that someone, even if you know that someone do not love you the way you do."
- Prodigal -
Maya:
that episode was shown quite a while back. (I think RCTI showed it about 4-5 years ago)
And don't worry about not ever being able to be like Poe. I've read the stuff you wrote and they are GREAT!
Prodigal:
Thank you for that URL.
I must admit that Poe is an accomplished writer and poet. (I have a book containing the complete collection of his works back home.)
The Murders at the Rue Morgue, The Cask of Amontillado, The Fall of the House of Usher and The Masque of the Red Death are but a few of my favourites.
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Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less travelled by.
And that has made all the difference
-- Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken -
liquid, i have been here for...5 years, i dun recall watching rcti
My fave poem from Yeats goes like this
He Wishes for the Cloth of Heaven
Had I the heaven's embroidered cloth
enwrought with golden and silver light
The blue, the dim, and the dark cloth
of night, and light and the half light
I would spread the cloth under your feet
But I being poor have only my dreams
I have spread my dreams under your feet
Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.
I like The Cranberries and Dolores O Riordan seems to be crazy about Yeats, too. I find her plaintive words "Stop treading on my dreams" touching.
Prodigal
yes, but I think I should find some inspiration first, wouldn't want to type words that I will regret later on. I've never done a duet before, cool.
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The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are
always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts.
--Bertrand Russell
[This message has been edited by MayaJade (edited 13 April 2000).] -
Maya:
hehehehe
whoops.... forgot that tiny bit of detail
anyway, if i still know them as well as before, they will surely have a re-re-re-run of that episode someday. (just ask one of your bro/sis to record it for you lah :p)
That Yeats poem you posted up is very nice, and quite touching as well. To be frank, what Yeats did is what I would do in the same situation. But then again, probably would a dozen of other guys. *shrug*
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Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less travelled by.
And that has made all the difference
-- Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken -
Liquid: about Yeats, perhaps so. But the important thing is whether one can get the message across well enough. I think no one has a simple mind, it's just that they might not have the ability to pass off what they have in mind as proses, let alone poems. I enjoy talking to eloquent persons because it's simply exciting to be able to "bathe" oneself in their stream of thoughts and feelings.
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The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are
always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts.
--Bertrand Russell -
Maya:
yeah... I agree with what you say. Having an intelligent mind does not mean that you can express yourself properly (hence IQ and EQ).
This is also why I like eloquent people as well, those people who are able to communicate their thoughts and feelings seemingly with complete disregard to the limits of the human physique. These are the people that I really enjoy talking and having discussions with. (Don't you just hate it when you're in the middle of a conversation with someone and suddenly there's this uncomfortable silence while waiting for the other side to try to put their thoughts into words?)
I don't know about you, but you seem quite eloquent in this discussion board to me.
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Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less travelled by.
And that has made all the difference
-- Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken -
Liquid: thank you, and you sound like a well read person, too. Is this the result of being in Australia for a while?
I don't exactly hate the uncomfortable silence, sometimes I find that I cannot find the exact word to describe the way I feel/think. But the one of the worst things that can happen to me is being stranded with someone I cannot talk to, someone whose reply is "erm, yes, i think so." Do you think being talkative help in the gaining of eloquence (I am very talkative yadda yadda yadda) and I have to rely on good english to get my message across because I don't speak Chinese or any other local language (my malay is a goner)
So, do you write stories, too? I wrote two short stories last year, I posted one of them in Paul Mah's thread "The Ring: a debut". I'd like to read your stories if you have some.
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The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are
always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts.
--Bertrand Russell -
Maya:
Well... I guess my being in Australia for a while does play a part. But then again, I've always loved to read.
I guess conversations always have to be a two-way thing. If one side does all the talking, then it gets old very quickly, don't you think?
I think being talkative helps you to be eloquent, too, yes. Since it helps you to overcome those inhibitions and mental blocks that makes you unable to express yourself clearly, although being talkative does not mean that a person is eloquent. (But an eloquent person will certainly be talkative)
I've written several stories, but unfortunately they were done with pen and paper, during classes back home (You should know how boring they can get
I've read your story, and it's really wonderful. Those "My heart said..." bits are really something new and interesting (at least I haven't seen it anywhere before).
Well done!!! I'm definitely looking forward to reading more of your works.
(p.s. If you really don't want to post them up, you can always e-mail them to me)
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Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less travelled by.
And that has made all the difference
-- Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken -
Liquid: Indonesian stories??? I would love to read them. If I go to library over here, I can always find Freddy S' works (mua ha ha ha). What about taking a pity on me and send me your work? Of course that will have to wait until you've done your exams.
I have posted another one, it's called "Fat". The story doesn't have a plot, I didn't intend it to be reliant on a plot. It's more of a description, a short journey inside the fat girl's mind and before one feels too queasy, the story ends. Enjoy.
PS: I only have two stories, thought used to flow more freely when I was in Indonesia but being in a secondary school here really limited one's imagination and style. At least back there in Indo I could virtually write about anything and as long as it was linguistically sound and clung to some sort of logic, my dear dear B.I. teacher would give my story a good mark.
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The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are
always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts.
--Bertrand Russell
[This message has been edited by MayaJade (edited 15 April 2000).] -
Maya:
Well, the thing is I'll have to try and find those stories first at my home. (God knows where they are now.
Really??? They even have Freddy S. in your library??? Wow... I guess this is another proof of the age-old adage that Sex Sells. :p
(p.s. how do I send my work to you leh? I don't have your e-mail address
)
I've read your other story, and it's quite interesting. You've really managed to get inside her mind. I guess everyone has an addiction, and hers is food. (Although I have to admit that the story is somehow cut short. Maybe we can try to have a back and forth paragraph-by-paragraph thing after I finish my exams).
hehehehehe...
I still remember my B.I. teachers. I used to consult them when I wrote stories, and some of them can be worse than the censors. (Cut here, cut there, until there's no more story
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Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less travelled by.
And that has made all the difference
-- Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken -
Defintely Shakespeare!
Here's my fav poem
'Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt that the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt I love'
Quoted from "Hamlet"
simple,yet profound.
What do you guys think?