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Favorite poems

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By (user no longer on site) OP     over a year ago

Whatever dies really does not die.We see it not;ThereforeWe feel that it has died.Death is only another shoreOf the Reality-sea.Death is only another wayTo God-Reality’s Shore.– Sri Chinmoy

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By (user no longer on site)  over a year ago

My favourites are The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes, The Ballad of Reading Gaol by Oscar Wilde and The Lady of Shalott by Alfred Lord Tennyson.

I love reading epic and WWI poetry

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By *ilary and DonaldCouple  over a year ago

chingford

On the Ning Nang Nong

Where the Cows go Bong!

and the monkeys all say BOO!

There's a Nong Nang Ning

Where the trees go Ping!

And the tea pots jibber jabber joo.

On the Nong Ning Nang

All the mice go Clang

And you just can't catch 'em when they do!

So its Ning Nang Nong

Cows go Bong!

Nong Nang Ning

Trees go ping

Nong Ning Nang

The mice go Clang

What a noisy place to belong

is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!!

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By (user no longer on site)  over a year ago

Dulce et decorum est by Wilfred Owen and the raven by Edgar Allen poe. Oh and rape of the lock by Alexander Pope.

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By (user no longer on site)  over a year ago

I loved doing the war poems as part of my GCSE'S at school. But as an adult my newer favourites are Our England is a Garden by Rudyard Kipling but the one that had quite a profound affect on my views and outlook was Let me die a young man's death by Roger McGough

Let me die a youngman's death

not a clean and inbetween

the sheets holywater death

not a famous-last-words

peaceful out of breath death

When I'm 73

and in constant good tumour

may I be mown down at dawn

by a bright red sports car

on my way home

from an allnight party

Or when I'm 91

with silver hair

and sitting in a barber's chair

may rival gangsters

with hamfisted tommyguns burst in

and give me a short back and insides

Or when I'm 104

and banned from the Cavern

may my mistress

catching me in bed with her daughter

and fearing for her son

cut me up into little pieces

and throw away every piece but one

Let me die a youngman's death

not a free from sin tiptoe in

candle wax and waning death

not a curtains drawn by angels borne

'what a nice way to go' death

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By (user no longer on site)  over a year ago

Roses are red, grass is greener when I think of you, I play with my weiner

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By (user no longer on site)  over a year ago

Clearances by Seamus Heaney

"Chestnut from a jam jar in a hole,

Its heft and hush become a bright nowhere,

A soul ramifying and forever

Silent, beyond silence listened for"

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By (user no longer on site)  over a year ago

dulce et decorum est by Wilfred owen

when I am old I shall wear purple by Jenny Joseph

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By (user no longer on site)  over a year ago


"Roses are red, grass is greener when I think of you, I play with my weiner "

that's a limerick not a poem

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By (user no longer on site)  over a year ago


"Roses are red, grass is greener when I think of you, I play with my weiner

that's a limerick not a poem "

Roses are red, tulips are white, Kinkybird, is killing my vibe!

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By (user no longer on site)  over a year ago

[Removed by poster at 14/01/17 20:02:41]

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By (user no longer on site)  over a year ago


"dulce et decorum est by Wilfred owen

when I am old I shall wear purple by Jenny Joseph

"

Dulce et decorum est is one of the few poems that can bring a tear to my eye.

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By *andsonjohnMan  over a year ago

in the eye of the storm

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!

"Charge for the guns!" he said:

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"

Was there a man dismay'd?

Not tho' the soldier knew

Someone had blunder'd:

Theirs not to make reply,

Theirs not to reason why,

Theirs but to do and die:

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them

Volley'd and thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,

Flash'd as they turn'd in air,

Sabring the gunners there,

Charging an army, while

All the world wonder'd:

Plunged in the battery-smoke

Right thro' the line they broke;

Cossack and Russian

Reel'd from the sabre stroke

Shatter'd and sunder'd.

Then they rode back, but not

Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them

Volley'd and thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

While horse and hero fell,

They that had fought so well

Came thro' the jaws of Death

Back from the mouth of Hell,

All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

All the world wondered.

Honor the charge they made,

Honor the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred.

charge of the light brigade Tennyson brings a tear to my eye every time I read because it was and its a testament to how brave men can be when duty calls .

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By *ilary and DonaldCouple  over a year ago

chingford

There once was a man from Australia

Who painted his arse like a dahlia

Tuppence a smell was all very well

But thruppence a lick was a failure.

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