Poems

[ZenitYerkes]

Share yours as well

Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer - Life is a Dream (Rima LXIII)

Life is a dream, but a fevered
dream that lasts an instant.
Waking from it, one sees
that all is vanity and smoke.
God grant it were
a long deep sleep,
a dream to last till death!
I would dream of my love and yours.


Antonio Machado - Wanderer

Wanderer, your footsteps are
the road, and nothing more.

Wanderer, there is no road,
the road is made by walking.
By walking one makes the road,
and upon glancing behind
one sees the path
that never will be trod again.

Wanderer, there is no road--
Only wakes upon the sea.

[rapunzel77]

very good poems Zenit . As usual, your poems speak from your heart. However, I am wondering about the Wanderer one. Were you by any chance inspired to write it based on the famous Anglo-Saxon poem the Wanderer?

[ZenitYerkes]

Originally Posted by rapunzel77

very good poems Zenit . As usual, your poems speak from your heart. However, I am wondering about the Wanderer one. Were you by any chance inspired to write it based on the famous Anglo-Saxon poem the Wanderer?

Haha no rapunzel ! Those aren't mine, are from two Spanish poets: Bécquer and Machado. They're both translated to English.

I wish I was that good

[Sonoran Na'vi]

I like the second poem; though, now I want to read it in its original language (which I am assuming is Spanish).

My favorite poem has to be "If" by Rudyard Kipling:

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

[Silver Storm]

this is my favorite poem:

Galadriel's Song of Eldamar J.R.R. Tolkien

I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold,
and leaves of gold there grew:
Of wind I sang, a wind there came
and in the branches blew.

Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon,
the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin
there grew a golden Tree.

Beneath the stars of Ever-eve
in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls
of Elven Tirion.

There long the golden leaves have grown
upon the branching years,
While here beyond the Sundering Seas
now fall the Elven-tears.

O Lórien! The Winter comes,
the bare and leafless Day;
The leaves are falling in the stream,
the River flows away.

O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore
And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.

But if of ships I now should sing,
what ship would come to me,
What ship would bear me ever back
across so wide a Sea?
---
beautifull.

[Fkeu'itan]

I enjoy a lot of William Blake's poetry, depite it's reasonably dark nature.

MAD SONG

The wild winds weep,
And the night is a-cold;
Come hither, Sleep,
And my griefs enfold! . . .
But lo! the morning peeps
Over the eastern steeps,
And the rustling beds of dawn
The earth do scorn.

Lo! to the vault
Of pavèd heaven,
With sorrow fraught,
My notes are driven:
They strike the ear of Night,
Make weak the eyes of Day;
They make mad the roaring winds,
And with the tempests play,

Like a fiend in a cloud,
With howling woe
After night I do crowd
And with night will go;
I turn my back to the east
From whence comforts have increased;
For light doth seize my brain
With frantic pain.

[Silver Storm]

yeah william blake is very good! i also like his paintings. they fit his dark poems well. i like dark poetry