[milf]

That's it. Looking to read a bit of poetry -- how about naming some of your favorites and optionally providing an example of a work you like.

[Dakar]

I've never been able to grasp poetry.

I do remember one poem by E.E. Cummings I enjoyed.

Something about getting old.

[starman]

Poetry's just for getting chicks in college

[demograph68]

Originally Posted by starman

Poetry's just for getting chicks in college

They sure love their Sylvia Plath.

[chris v]

Gregory Corso.

Bomb.

Not for chicks at all.

[Cody Dawg]

Anne Sexton. Dorothy Parker. Carl Sandburg. Eliot. Shakespeare. Auden. Yes, Plath - The Bed Book is my favorite of hers and I have all of her first edition books. Angelou. Dickenson. Dylan (Bob). Frost. Langston Hughes. Kerouac. Whitman. Dante. Lady Murasaki.

There are so many wonderful poets...

I don't think you can pick just one, can you?

To be honest, I've never read a poem that I didn't love. Not one.

And let's not forget AJ LaSaracina who posts here at MacNN - or used to - his book is all i can tell at this time.

[RAILhead]

I keep waking up at night
The sheets are soaking wet with sweat
I hear people laughing
I hear dogs barking
I hear the wind blowing leaves across the pavement

I felt you in the room last night
Your perfume was all over
I saw you smiling at me
I saw your hair in your face
I touched your lips for an instant and you took my hand

I keep seeing you in mirrors
You’re putting on lipstick
I remember you hated it
I remember you never needed it
I was always taken back by your simple, natural beauty

My lights turn off sometimes
The radio will be on when I get home
My doors swing open
My cat stares into space
My heart wants to think it's you, keeping tabs and watching me

Sometimes the phone ringa at night
I hear knocking on the door
I hear your voice from within my shower
I see footprints on the bed
You never left me, after all these years and all these changes

But sometimes I get scared
And sometimes it’s too much
But I don’t meant to offend
And I don’t mean to upset
But one night’s sleep would be nice, and that’s all I want

I keep waking up at night
The sheets are soaking wet with sweat
I hear people laughing
I hear dogs barking
I hear the wind blowing leaves across the pavement

[- - e r i k - -]

I hear Salty writes some kick-ass poetry...

[USB HUB]

Originally Posted by - - e r i k - -

I hear Salty writes some kick-ass poetry...

SALTY! SALTY! hmmmmm...

can't find him

[Doofy]

Neil Peart.

Things crawl in the darkness
That imagination spins
Needles at your nerve ends
Crawl like spiders on your skin

Pounding in your temples
And a surge of adrenaline
Every muscle tense to fence the enemy within

I'm not giving in to security under pressure
I'm not missing out on the promise of adventure
I'm not giving up on implausible dreams
Experience to extremes
Experience to extremes...

Suspicious looking stranger
Flashes you a dangerous grin
Shadows across your window...
Was it only trees in the wind?

Every breath a static charge,
A tongue that tastes like tin
Steely-eyed outside to hide the enemy within

I'm not giving in to security under pressure
I'm not missing out on the promise of adventure
I'm not giving up on implausible dreams
Experience to extremes
Experience to extremes...

To you, is it movement or is it action?
Is it contact or just reaction?
And you...revolution or just resistance?
Is it living, or just existence?
Yeah, you! It takes a little more persistence
To get up and go the distance

I'm not giving in
I'm not missing out
I'm not giving up on implausible dreams
Experience to extremes

I'm not giving in to security under pressure
I'm not missing out on the promise of adventure
I'm not giving up on implausible dreams
Experience to extremes
Experience to extremes...

Sprawling on the fringes of the city
In geometric order
An insulated border
In between the bright lights
And the far unlit unknown

Growing up it all seems so one-sided
Opinions all provided
The future pre-decided
Detached and subdivided
In the mass production zone

Nowhere is the dreamer
Or the misfit so alone

Subdivisions ---
In the high school halls
In the shopping malls
Conform or be cast out
Subdivisions ---
In the basement bars
In the backs of cars
Be cool or be cast out

Any escape might help to smooth
The unattractive truth
But the suburbs have no charms to soothe
The restless dreams of youth

Drawn like moths we drift into the city
The timeless old attraction
Cruising for the action
Lit up like a firefly
Just to feel the living night

Some will sell their dreams for small desires
Or lose the race to rats
Get caught in ticking traps
And start to dream of somewhere
To relax their restless flight

Somewhere out of a memory
Of lighted streets on quiet nights...

[dav]

charles bukowski


NIGHT SCHOOL
from Dangling In the Tournefortia

in the drunk driver's class
assigned there by division 63
we are given tiny yellow pencils
to take a test
to see if we have been listening
to the instructor.
questions like: the minimum sentence for a
2nd drunk driving conviction is:
a) 48 days
b) 6 months
c) 90 days
there are 9 others questions.
after the instructor leaves the room
the students begin asking the questions:
"hey, how about question 5? that's a
tough one!"
"did he talk about that?"
"I think its 48 days."
"are you sure?"
"no, but that's what I'm putting
down."
one women circles all 3 answers
on all questions
even though we've been told to
select only one.

on our break I go down and
drink a can of beer
outside a liquor store.
I watch a black hooker
on her evening stroll.
a car pulls up.
she walks over and they
talk.
the door opens.
she gets in and
they drive off.

back in class
the students have gotten
to know each other.
they are a not-very-interesting
bunch of drunks.
I visualize them sitting in a
bar
and i remember why
I started drinking
alone.

the class begins again.
it is discovered that I am
the only one to have gotten
100 percent on the test.

I slouch back in my chair
with my dark shades on.
I am the class
intellectual.

[Salty]

Originally Posted by starman

Poetry's just for getting chicks in college

So true. All the ladies on my campus take note of the poetry thing. I'll often be talking to one I don't know and they'll be like, "No no no, I know who you are, you're the poetry guy." It's nice cause they don't think of me as the loud guy, or the guy who says stuff in class (if I don't participate in class discussions I tend to get bad grades since I zone out), or the crazy Mac guy. Though I'm generally known for all those things. But being the poetry guy makes me seem pretty cool to a lot of them. Haha. I swear... if only I weren't gay .