What is your favourite poem?

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 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 is 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.

 

At school it was a choice of two from one of the more unstable kids whose valentines card we found before he had chance to send it.
1: Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet but thar not
2: Roses are red, violets are blue, av gorra neef, get in the van.

 

Mine was
Hickory dickory dock
the mouse ran up the clock
the mouse ran down
it’s a*se was brown
and so was the cuckoos lovely personk


I’ll get me coit

 

• 
  Funeral Blues
  • 
    by W. H. Auden (1907-1973)
  
  Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
  Prevent the dog from barking with the juicy bone.
  Silence the pianos and, with muffled drum,
  Bring out the coffin. Let the mourners come.
  Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
  Scribbling in the sky the message: “He is dead!”
  Put crepe bows around the white necks of the public doves.
  Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
  
  He was my north, my south, my east and west,
  My working week and Sunday rest,
  My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song.
  I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.
  
  The stars are not wanted now; put out every one.
  Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
  Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
  For nothing now can ever come to any good.
  

 

Interesting choice Mk.. This is what the Buddhists mean why they talk about enlightenment.. so for someone to right this, it says he himself must have been enlightened or at least well on the way
And also your other choice William Blake used to have paranormal visions/experiences..

 

World war 1 poem by Mr Baldrick

Boom
Boom
Boom
Boom
Boom
Boom
Boom
Boom
Boom
Boom

 

Lars Lees, tall as the trees, that live in Wombwell Wood
Lars Lee, tall as the trees, he’s not very good

 

The Boy stood on the burning deck
Do we miss our old manager
Do we Heck

 

I was read this one regularly at bedtime as a child.
Abou Ben Adhem
BY LEIGH HUNT
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?"—The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.



But for comedy alone it's hard to beat Eddie and the Gerbils by Michael Rosen

 

I remember reading this at secondary school. A very powerful poem. That last line sends shivers up my spine.

 

I'm a poet and I didn't know it!

 

I once knew a girl called Lola or Laila
She said leave me breathless so I hid her inhaler

by Hovis Presley

 

or this one...

Your guess is as good as a mile


My bike thinks it's a BMX
It's just a racer what the heck
My friend says he has x-ray specs
There is no substance I suspect
You think that you're a sex object




And then the other sex objects


© H Presley 2004

 

My vote goes with "If" it was on the wall in large letters in the Swimming Baths at HMS Ganges so saw it regularly, as with most things it eventually became part of the background of life until you get to a certain age, then suddenly it becomes important again.

 

don't blow it