Monday 21 March 2011

Roses are red, violets are blue...

...Today is World Poetry Day, so why not borrow an anthology from SMU?

We’ve got poetry to suit all tastes, from Romantics such as Samuel Taylor Coleridge to the more recent musings of Roger McGough. Do you have a favourite poem or poet? Let us know! If you’re feeling creative, we’d love to read your poems on libraries, SMU, or poetry in general in our comments section.

For the record, I’m a fan of Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven (though it does always remind me of The Simpsons episode that featured it!).

9 comments:

  1. How about the uplifting 'Ode to Spring', Mary Robinson, 1758-1800 (from our 'Literature Online' database) to welcome in the new season!

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  2. "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" William Wordsworth 1770-1850, is a favourite of mine.

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  3. On a more recent note.
    I'm rather fond of the work of Ms McNish
    http://holliemcnish.bandcamp.com/track/1-a-british-national-breakfast
    or try
    http://holliemcnish.bandcamp.com/track/6-fruit-and-veg

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  4. Monica Reynolds21 March 2011 at 14:42

    The following has been composed by Monica Reynolds, BA Hons English Studies final year student:

    "The Dragon's Chair"

    The ears of our heart sense the sadness of
    Lost children hidden beneath slurries of coal
    Whilst pit-less men mourn the loss of manhood
    And blast furnaces freeze through time.
    Power sits idly behind paper and ink,
    Turning towns into vast wastelands of youthful minds.
    Disparate voices seep through tired bones and crusty lungs
    Looking for home, whilst the rainbow chases the pot.
    ‘Hellfire and brimstone!’ boom across a vast landscape
    Decrying the absence of a tightly bound chord of religion.
    Swirling leaves make way for winter’s gloom, in temporal and spatial
    Bleakness, which lay deep in black caves where the answers lie.
    Rain-hammered windows drip tirelessly from streams
    Carrying messages of hiraeth for a language almost forgotten
    As the moon steals the night walking its shadows.
    Strong women stand defiantly, like mountains firmly peaked:
    Bards recite, the young dance, male voices chant their cadences
    Black cats and tall hats make soup from leeks, to the sound of ‘Heddiwch!’
    Winds hold back roots, then thrust forward into the future -
    Bending spirits like harps diversely tuned.
    Sunlight’s comfort wraps a warm shawl around the youth of today
    And asks of tomorrow: an endless bouquet.
    Hope emerges gloriously through grey fine mist where
    Ancient Celtic tongues soar up through streams of light.
    Golden cups of daffodils dance gaily for David’s day
    Where fields of linked voices unite and refuse to wither.

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  5. A bit of a cliche: Classis Roger McCough.
    Shout it out.
    'Let me die a young mans death'

    http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/let-me-die-a-youngman-s-death/

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  6. I couldn't narrow it down to one poem, but my favourite all time poet is Seamus Heaney. Born in County Derry in 1939, he went on to become one of Ireland's most celebrated poets whose books make up two-thirds of the sales of living poets in the UK.

    His works have focussed on his rural upbringing, childhood memories, history & folklore, but perhaps most famously the Troubles in Northern Ireland. He's never been one to shy away from difficult subject matter and has said of his work "you don't have to love it. You just have to permit it."

    I studied his poetry at A'Level and again at degree level whilst taking a module on Northern Irish poetry. His poems conjure up some fairly gritty imagery and may not be everyone's cup of tea, but i've always found him a fascinating writer. I was also fortunate enought to meet him the year he won the Nobel Prize for Literature (1995) and now have a signed copy of his collected poems on my bookshelf!

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  7. I'm partial to some Poe too. However to be different I'll go for a mouse poem.

    Mice
    by Rose Fyleman

    I think mice
    Are rather nice.

    Their tails are long,
    Their faces small,
    They haven't any
    Chins at all.

    Their ears are pink,
    Their teeth are white,
    They run about
    The house at night.

    They nibble things
    they shouldn't touch
    And no one seems
    To like them much.

    But I think mice
    Are nice.

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  8. webster madanhi24 March 2011 at 13:03

    TS Eliot did it for me, espeacially in Ash Wednesday.

    Because I do not hope to turn again
    Because I do not hope
    Because I do not hope to turn
    Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
    I no longer strive to strive towards such things
    (Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)
    Why should I mourn
    The vanished power of the usual reign?

    Because I do not hope to know
    The infirm glory of the positive hour
    Because I do not think
    Because I know I shall not know
    The one veritable transitory power
    Because I cannot drink
    There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is
    nothing again


    follow link to sample more.
    http://www.msgr.ca/msgr-7/ash_wednesday_t_s_eliot.htm

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  9. I met this poet recently- Patrick Jones and wanted to share this poem of his with you...

    DYSUNITEDNATION

    (for babi badalov)

    'everyone has the right to seek and to enjoy in other countries asylum from persecution' article 14 of the universal declaration of human rights

    in great great britain
    land of hope and glory
    land of the royal fairy tale story
    patrol your borders obey their orders
    but we spent 53 million on the dome
    but close our hospitals and moan
    at asylum seekers taking our money
    our homes our jobs our liberty
    lets lock em up before they destroy our economy
    "ssssseeeeeeeeeee
    we're valleee people we aint no racists
    but if they cum yer you'll get ower fists"
    in great great britain

    this dysunited nation of red. white. and. blue.
    of white male bigotry and children learning through
    sun headlines and telegraphed lies
    cameron proclaims brown denies
    as refugees die in front of our eyes
    as girls are stoned for falling in love
    and men castrated for the forbidden touch

    patrol your borders obey their orders
    but we welcome hitachi aiwa toshiba and lg
    we worship ronaldo nani and theire henri
    yet we spit at frightened refugees
    i propose that next time a politician or anybody mentions
    the words detention and refugee
    so casually-
    i will ask them to look in my bible-
    the dictionary
    where they will see that refuge is the word before refugee
    and detente comes before detention
    so-
    ignore their orders destroy all borders;
    ignore their orders destroy all borders;

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