Poetry Appreciation Thread

[Ratio]

Though I'd beef out this section of the forum. Poetry time!
Post your favorites!

Ozymandias
by Horace Smith

In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone,
Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws
The only shadow that the Desert knows:
"I am great OZYMANDIAS," saith the stone,
"The King of Kings; this mighty City shows
"The wonders of my hand." The City's gone,
Nought but the Leg remaining to disclose
The site of this forgotten Babylon.
We wonder, and some Hunter may express
Wonder like ours, when thro' the wilderness
Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chace,
He meets some fragments huge, and stops to guess
What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.


Yes I know Percy Shelly did another version of this, but I think Smith's version is better. I mean how awesome are the first three lines?

[Relym]

I don't know either of the authors you mentioned, but I do enjoy poetry.

A melancholy metronome,
will meter a song to take me home,
that simple song will take me back,
to when our slates were clean but our hearts were black.

Yeah, that last line actually did fit the meter of the poem xD

[Underling]

percy shelley was husband to mary shelley author of frankenstein.

Im not a big Horace Smith fan but he does well in that one.
one of my favourites of the moment is Robert Browning's "My last duchess"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will't please you sit and look at her? I said
"Frà Pandolf" by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myselfthey turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)                     
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps
Frà Pandolf chanced to say "Her mantle laps
Over my Lady's wrist too much," or "Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat": such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough               
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart — how shall I say? — too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, 'twas all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace — all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,         
Or blush, at least. She thanked men, — good! but thanked
Somehow — I know not how — as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech — which I have not — to make your will
Quite clear to such an one, and say, "Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
Or there exceed the mark" — and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set                             
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse,
e'en then would be some stooping, and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will't please you rise? We'll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master's known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretence                               
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

[Relym]

I know this isn't poetry appreciation I'm posting but I'm stumped by your signature Underling. What I read was "Little young number shut your eyes and go to sleep again" I understand the last 7 words but the first three are really bugging me. What does it mean?

[Woo]

I really like Carol Anne Duffy, and had my last relationship lasted to valentines and not ended on our annivesary the month before, along with some other things I was going to give him an onion along with this poem-

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring,
if you like.
Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.

   -- Carol Ann Duffy


unfortunatly, that relationship ended kinda badly. twice. but, we live and learn and all thats left is to move on. I just have to work on rebuilding trust now, and I'll be a right as rain eventualy. ^_^
but I loved this poem from the moment I first read it.

[elephant]

I know this isn't poetry appreciation I'm posting but I'm stumped by your signature Underling. What I read was "Little young number shut your eyes and go to sleep again" I understand the last 7 words but the first three are really bugging me. What does it mean?

Number as 'a self-contained piece of music'?

Don't read any poetry in English though, unless lyrics count...

[Relym]

elephant, I found out later that he was attempting to write "little child" but there was not a word for child. That's a good guess, though.