Your Favorite Poems

[evolveme]

For six months I dealt Baccarat in a casino.
For six months I played Brahms in a mall.
For six months I arranged museum dioramas;
my hands were too small for the Paleolithic
and when they reassigned me to lichens, I quit.
I type ninety-one words per minute, all of them
Help. Yes, I speak Dewey Decimal.
I speak Russian, Latin, a smattering of Tlingit.
I can balance seven dinner plates on my arm.
All I want to do is sit on a veranda while
a hard rain falls around me. I'll file your 1099s.
I'll make love to strangers of your choice.
I'll do whatever you want, as long as I can do it
on that veranda. If it calls you, it's your calling,
right? Once I asked a broker what he loved
about his job, and he said Making a killing.
Once I asked a serial killer what made him
get up in the morning, and he said The people.

[evolveme]

Deep in the Boogie Down—
the bassinet of the boom bap
where the trinity is The Treacherous Three,

English is the third language
behind Bronx and Puerto Rican,
and I was nervous

because I only speak Catholic school
and I'm a Red Sox fan.

I'm just a student of KRS-1, not a son,

on a train fourteen stops beyond my comfort
zone hiding behind headphones coughing
bass, and a backpack full of lyrics:

Notorious B.I.G., Rakim, Perdomo,
Run DMC, Brooks, wanting to be real cool,

wanting to be their "dawg"—
but feeling like a mailman,
another Elvis

to the students I will lead
through a workshop in a language

I itch to get my rusted cavities around.

[chefhottie25]

Originally Posted by evolveme

Deep in the Boogie Down—
the bassinet of the boom bap
where the trinity is The Treacherous Three,

English is the third language
behind Bronx and Puerto Rican,
and I was nervous

because I only speak Catholic school
and I'm a Red Sox fan.

I'm just a student of KRS-1, not a son,

on a train fourteen stops beyond my comfort
zone hiding behind headphones coughing
bass, and a backpack full of lyrics:

Notorious B.I.G., Rakim, Perdomo,
Run DMC, Brooks, wanting to be real cool,

wanting to be their "dawg"—
but feeling like a mailman,
another Elvis

to the students I will lead
through a workshop in a language

I itch to get my rusted cavities around.

what a great poem. i totally dig it.

[FeminineAllure]

“Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means that you've decided to look beyond the imperfections.”

[BestButchBoy]

Death is not the end
Death can never be the end.
Death is the road.
Life is the traveller.
...
The Soul is the Guide
...
Our mind thinks of death.
Our heart thinks of life
Our soul thinks of Immortality.

By: Sri Chinmoy

[Mitmo01]

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
Christopher Marlowe


Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of th purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.

The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.

[Mitmo01]

When you are old
a poem by William Butler Yeats



When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

[Fancy]

I open my mouth in astonishment.
Praises fall forth with my every breath.

I bless that I am not the first,
nor shall I be the last,
to wonder under the stars that everything is.

I bless that everything is,
and that I am part of it all.

I bless that no one has any final answers,
and that no name
can be the final name for ultimacy.

I bless that it will still be possible on my deathbed to
grow deeper.

I bless that only the painful work of forgiveness
allows for any real joy in this life.

I bless that what is fractured
still dares to dream of wholeness.

I bless that there is enough to go around
if we give, not grab.

I bless that distance
can usually give way to intimacy.

I bless that justice is only just
if it transforms me
as well as the world outside me.

I bless that the good
are not those who strive to do good,
but those who allow their hearts to be vulnerable
to the inherent dignity of others.

I bless that peace
can never be declared impossible,
even in the Middle East.

I bless that ruined cities and ruined lives
can often be rebuilt.

I bless that prayers like this
are not foolish incantations,
but invitations to bless, question, and praise
as often as possible.

I bless that there is no place in the whole universe
that is not as sacred as any temple.

I bless that my breathing
can be a kind of thanking.

I bless the peace that takes nourishment
at the breast of justice.

I bless that both singing and silence are possible.

~Mark Belletini