Dulce et Decorum Est–Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And toward our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!–An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.–
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

(It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.)

i like u guys poems i not good at poems but i read them and they are good

She made a little shadow-hidden grave,
The day Faith died;
Therein she laid it, heard the clod's sick fall,
And smiled aside --
"If less I ask," tear-blind, she mocked, "I may
Be less denied."

She set a rose to blossom in her hair;
The day faith died --
"Now glad," she said, "and free at last, I do
And life is wide."
But through long night she stared into the dark,
And knew she lied.

The Dead Faith
Fannie Heaslip Lea

wow! some people just have that artistic touch to them! nice poems!

"My love, she sleeps!
Oh, May her sleep. As it is lasting,
so be deep! Soft may the worms about her creep!"

- Edgar Allan Poe
"The Sleeper"

Well I don't have a particular poem, but I like the poetry of Robert Frost.

this is one of my favourite poems..it really makes you think

five ways to kill a man - edwin brock
There are many cumbersome ways to kill a man.
You can make him carry a plank of wood
to the top of a hill and nail him to it.
To do this properly you require a crowd of people
wearing sandals, a cock that crows, a cloak
to dissect, a sponge, some vinegar and one
man to hammer the nails home.

Or you can take a length of steel,
shaped and chased in a traditional way,
and attempt to pierce the metal cage he wears.
But for this you need white horses,
English trees, men with bows and arrows,
at least two flags, a prince, and a
castle to hold your banquet in.

Dispensing with nobility, you may, if the wind
allows, blow gas at him. But then you need
a mile of mud sliced through with ditches,
not to mention black boots, bomb craters,
more mud, a plague of rats, a dozen songs
and some round hats made of steel.

In an age of aeroplanes, you may fly
miles above your victim and dispose of him by
pressing one small switch. All you then
require is an ocean to separate you, two
systems of government, a nation's scientists,
several factories, a psychopath and
land that no-one needs for several years.

These are, as I began, cumbersome ways to kill a man.
Simpler, direct, and much more neat is to see
that he is living somewhere in the middle
of the twentieth century, and leave him there.

this issa poem i wrote recently..review and tell me wutchu think

Not--MOVED

I will not topple
Budge
Or
Move
Or
Be
Discouraged
I will not
Crack
Or
Fade
Or
Retreat
Succumb
To senseless
Words
Or nouns
Or verbs
That you
Create to
Define me
I will not let
Your insecurities evaluate me..
-weird32005

Oh Brandy I luv it! AND CONGRATS on being sorted into Slytherin! lol

The Choice
By: Dorothy Parker



He’d have given me rolling lands,
Houses of marble and billowing farms,
Pearls, to trickle between my hands,
Smoldering rubies, to circle my arms.
You – you’d only a little song,
Only a melody, happy and high,
You were sudden and swift and strong-
Never a thought for another had I.
He’d have given me laces rare,
Dresses that glimmered with frosty sheen
Shining ribbons to wrap my hair,
Horses to draw me, as fine as a queen.
You – you’d only to whistle low,
Gaily I followed wherever you led.
Somebody ought to examine my head!

I like this poem because it's sweet and charming.
-Angel

Behind the smile,
In my eyes,
Sadness has engulfed me and now I cry.

I just learned rule #1,
You can not trust,
**** friends, they can rust,
You've finnaly done it,
Congragulations, I'm crushed.

It's all behind me now,
So please don't cry,
I'm not like you,
This is my final Goodbye.

~Cody Pomeroy
(she wrote it for me when I was down, so it is naturally one of my favorites)

I loved you
By: Alexander Pushkin



I loved you and perhaps I love you still,
The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet
It burns so quietly within my soul,
No longer should you feel distressed by it.
Silently and hopelessly I loved you,
At times too jealous and at time to shy.
God grant you find another who will love you
As I tenderly and truthfully as I.

This poem pretty much explains it's self. I hope you also love it as much as I do.

My fav is Edgar Allen Poes Annabel lee

Dulce et Decorum Est–Wilfred Owen i love that poem i did it for my SATS.

One of my favorite poems is 'The Walrus and the Carpenter'. I forget who wrote it but I read it in class one day and I loved it.

The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe-too long to put up here, but here's this little bit:

"Quoth the raven, nevermore"

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Poem lyrics of Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening by Robert Frost.


Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it's queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

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The Road Not Taken

Poem lyrics of The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost.


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.