What is /pol/'s favorite poem?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tK4HDCIr_E8
Also, who was the most based poet?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LZRSPyvy23w
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aLuTiITZykg
Suicide in the Trenches
>>69281564
THE WRATH OF THE AWAKENED SAXON
by Rudyard Kipling
It was not part of their blood,
It came to them very late,
With long arrears to make good,
When the Saxon began to hate.
They were not easily moved,
They were icy — willing to wait
Till every count should be proved,
Ere the Saxon began to hate.
Their voices were even and low.
Their eyes were level and straight.
There was neither sign nor show
When the Saxon began to hate.
It was not preached to the crowd.
It was not taught by the state.
No man spoke it aloud
When the Saxon began to hate.
It was not suddently bred.
It will not swiftly abate.
Through the chilled years ahead,
When Time shall count from the date
That the Saxon began to hate.
Soleils couchants
Une aube affaiblie
Verse par les champs
La mélancolie
Des soleils couchants.
La mélancolie
Berce de doux chants
Mon coeur qui s'oublie
Aux soleils couchants.
Et d'étranges rêves,
Comme des soleils
Couchants, sur les grèves,
Fantômes vermeils,
Défilent sans trêves,
Défilent, pareils
A de grands soleils
Couchants sur les grèves.
>>69282442
Nice
Another perfect Kipling for the """"refugees""""
THE STRANGER
The Stranger within my gate,
He may be true or kind,
But he does not talk my talk--
I cannot feel his mind.
I see the face and the eyes and the mouth,
But not the soul behind.
The men of my own stock,
They may do ill or well,
But they tell the lies I am wanted to,
They are used to the lies I tell;
And we do not need interpreters
When we go to buy or sell.
The Stranger within my gates,
He may be evil or good,
But I cannot tell what powers control--
What reasons sway his mood;
Nor when the Gods of his far-off land
Shall repossess his blood.
The men of my own stock,
Bitter bad they may be,
But, at least, they hear the things I hear,
And see the things I see;
And whatever I think of them and their likes
They think of the likes of me.
This was my father's belief
And this is also mine:
Let the corn be all one sheaf--
And the grapes be all one vine,
Ere our children's teeth are set on edge
By bitter bread and wine.
On the Creation of Niggers
by H. P. Lovecraft
When, long ago, the gods created Earth
In Iove's fair image Man was shaped at birth.
The beasts for lesser parts were next designed;
Yet were they too remote from humankind.
To fill the gap, and join the rest to Man,
Th'Olympian host conceiv'd a clever plan.
A beast they wrought, in semi-human figure,
Filled it with vice, and called the thing a Nigger.
Ozymandias
By Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
>>69281564
into my heart, and air that kills
from yon far country blows
what are those blue, remembered hills
what spires, what farms are those
it is the land of lost contempt
I see it shining plain
the happy highways where I went
and cannot come again
WHITE MAN'S BURDEN
Rudyard Kipling
Take up the White Man’s burden—
Send forth the best ye breed—
Go send your sons to exile
To serve your captives' need
To wait in heavy harness
On fluttered folk and wild—
Your new-caught, sullen peoples,
Half devil and half child
Take up the White Man’s burden
In patience to abide
To veil the threat of terror
And check the show of pride;
By open speech and simple
An hundred times made plain
To seek another’s profit
And work another’s gain
Take up the White Man’s burden—
And reap his old reward:
The blame of those ye better
The hate of those ye guard—
The cry of hosts ye humour
(Ah slowly) to the light:
"Why brought ye us from bondage,
“Our loved Egyptian night?”
Take up the White Man’s burden
Have done with childish days-
The lightly proffered laurel,
The easy, ungrudged praise.
Comes now, to search your manhood
Through all the thankless years,
Cold-edged with dear-bought wisdom,
The judgment of your peers!
Roll the Dice
https://youtu.be/SE4ohkuwdQ8?t=290
Good vid too
>>69286400
4:48
poetry is gay
If someone could emulate E.E. Gummings grasshopper but with the word nigger instead it would become my favorite.
>>69287119
*Cummings goddamn my leaf-blood.
>>69287119
Yeah, and Sylvia Plath's Daddy as pro-fascist
"Every woman adores a fascist"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hHjctqSBwM
>>69281564
“Have you news of my boy Jack?”
Not this tide.
“When d’you think that he’ll come back?”
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
“Has any one else had word of him?”
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
“Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?”
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind —
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!
Always liked this one
>>69283667
>ae houseman
>shit
On her way to work one morning
Down the path along side the lake
A tender hearted woman saw a poor half frozen snake
His pretty colored skin had been all frosted with the dew
"Oh well," she cried, "I'll take you in and I'll take care of you"
"Take me in oh tender woman
Take me in, for heaven's sake
Take me in oh tender woman, " sighed the snake
She wrapped him up all cozy in a curvature of silk
And then laid him by the fireside with some honey and some milk
Now she hurried home from work that night as soon as she arrived
She found that pretty snake she'd taking in had been revived
"Take me in, oh tender woman
Take me in, for heaven's sake
Take me in oh tender woman, " sighed the snake
Now she clutched him to her bosom, "You're so beautiful," she cried
"But if I hadn't brought you in by now you might have died"
Now she stroked his pretty skin and then she kissed and held him tight
But instead of saying thanks, that snake gave her a vicious bite
"Take me in, oh tender woman
Take me in, for heaven's sake
Take me in oh tender woman, " sighed the snake
"I saved you," cried that woman
"And you've bit me even, why?
You know your bite is poisonous and now I'm going to die"
"Oh shut up, silly woman," said the reptile with a grin
"You knew damn well I was a snake before you took me in
"Take me in, oh tender woman
Take me in, for heaven's sake
Take me in oh tender woman, " sighed the snake
DULCE ET DECORUM EST(1)
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares(2) we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest(3) 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(4)
Of tired, outstripped(5) Five-Nines(6) that dropped behind.
Gas!(7) Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets(8) just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime(9) . . .
Dim, through the misty panes(10) 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,(11) 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(12)
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest(13)
To children ardent(14) for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.(15)
>>69288332
Song in the Manner of Housman
O woe, woe,
People are born and die,
We also shall be dead pretty soon
Therefore let us act as if we were
Dead already.
The bird sits on the hawthorn tree
But he dies also, presently.
Some lads get hung, and some get shot.
Woeful is this human lot.
Woe! woe, etcetera . . . .
London is a woeful place,
Shropshire is much pleasanter.
Then let us smile a little space
Upon fond nature's morbid grace.
Oh, Woe, woe, woe, etcetera . . . .
>>69283593
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L8ZIguWXo7k&feature=youtu.be&t=705
Gee I wonder where you got that.
Go read a book and stop getting all your culture from /pol/ memes. Next poem in Shropshire Lad is better anyway:
In my own shire, if I was sad
Homely comforters I had:
The earth, because my heart was sore,
Sorrowed for the son she bore;
And standing hills, long to remain,
Shared their short-lived comrade's pain.
And bound for the same bourn as I,
On every road I wandered by,
Trod beside me, close and dear,
The beautiful and death-struck year:
Whether in the woodland brown
I heard the beechnut rustle down,
And saw the purple crocus pale
Flower about the autumn dale;
Or littering far the fields of May
Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay,
And like a skylit water stood
The bluebells in the azured wood.
Yonder, lightening other loads,
The seasons range the country roads,
But here in London streets I ken
No such helpmates, only men;
And these are not in plight to bear,
If they would, another's care.
They have enough as 'tis: I see
In many an eye that measures me
The mortal sickness of a mind
Too unhappy to be kind.
Undone with misery, all they can
Is to hate their fellow man;
And till they drop they needs must still
Look at you and wish you ill.
>>69281564
TO M.A.B.
(To Miss Marion Terry, “Mary Ann Bessie Terry.”)
THE royal MAB, dethroned, discrowned
By fairy rebels wild,
Has found a home on English ground,
And lives an English child.
I know it, Maiden, when I see
A fairy-tale upon your knee
And note the page that idly lingers
Beneath those still and listless fingers
And mark those dreamy looks that stray
To some bright vision far away,
Still seeking, in the pictured story,
The memory of a vanished glory.
THE END
Antigosh by Hughs Mearns.
Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today,
I wish, I wish he'd go away...
When I came home last night at three,
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall,
I couldn't see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don't you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door...
Last night I saw upon the stair,
A little man who wasn't there,
He wasn't there again today
Oh, how I wish he'd go away...
roses are red
violets are blue
i hate white people
now you do too
Uphill slow,
Downhill fast,
Tonnage first,
Safety last
>>69281564
I'm sure I'll get shit for this, but I've always loved Ginberg's "Howl".
>>69281564
I dont know much english poems :(
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uNgYyvd7vkA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sz-XxK87c60
>>69281564
White man's burden by Kipling.
>The first child of human, of divine beauty is art.
>In art, the divine human being rejuvenates and recovers himself.
>He wishes to feel himself, and therefore he places his beauty before him.
>In this way the human being gave himself his gods.
>For in the beginning the human being and his gods were One, when, unbeknownst to itself, there was eternal beauty. -
>I am speaking mysteries, but they are. -
>The first child of divine beauty is art. Thus it was with the Athenians.
>Beauty's second daughter is religion.
>Religion is love of beauty.
>The wise man loves her herself, infinite, all-encompassing; the people lives her children, the gods, who appear to the people in manifold forms.
>Thus it was also with the Athenians. And without such love of beauty, without such religion, every state is a bare skeleton without life or spirit, and all thinking and doing are a tree without a top, a column whose capital has been knocked off.
i wish i could read Hölderlin in German
>>69294608
Yet it behooves, under God's thunderstorms,
You poets! to stand with naked heads,
To grasp the Father's ray, itself,
With our own hands and shrouded in the song
To pass on to the people the Heavenly gift
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BHoAQW_DBI4
>>69293599
It's a great poem, though /pol/ probably can't see past muh degeneracy. But it's partly inspired by the Book of Job.
>>69281564
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
>>69281564
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PGB4TQGNFKc
>>69282286
I love Sassoon. Too bad this is an awful reading.
The Angel that presided o'er my birth
said: "little creature, formed of joy and mirth:
Go love without the help of anything on Earth."
古池や蛙飛び込む水の音
ふるいけやかわずとびこむみずのおと
>>69299183
I don't know anything about Hitchens, but he's right on here. Although you don't need to go to a good school to read poetry.
>>69300480
Agreed. Most poetry readings on Youtube seem pretty bad unless they were read by the author. They all want to cry while reading.
>>69281564
I made this a while ago.
A Very Hungry Nazi Germany
A few years had passed since The Great War
and a little Third Reich lay on the floor;
united in brotherhood, and by righteous hate,
it dreamed of uniting Germans into one state.
Nazi Germany was very hungry!
It woke up in the morning, but didn't feel right,
so for breakfast, it Anschlussed a small Österreich.
But Nazi Germany was still hungry!
It saw Czechoslovakia, which its Führer hated,
when it took a small bite, the Czechs capitulated.
But Nazi Germany was still hungry!
Next Poland was eaten with no trouble at all.
Invasion was easy. Poland was small.
But Nazi Germany was still hungry!
The Reich didn't want Britain to enter the fray,
so it decided to munch on Denmark and Norway.
But Nazi Germany was still hungry!
France got angry, and forced Germany's hand.
In response, it ate Belgium and the Netherlands.
It finished off France the very next day,
and made peace with Russia, who it meant to betray.
But Nazi Germany was still hungry!
It chewed up the Balkans with inexorable force,
but saved room in its stomach for one final course.
It took a bite out of Russia, but then let her some slack.
To its surprise, mother Russia fought back.
It was torn in half by her powerful claw
and its eastern third ended up wedged in her jaws.
It was like this for decades that Germany remained.
But when the Soviets fell, it broke free of its chains.
Now Nazi Germany was very hungry.
The whole world looked on as it began to display
how it would conquer Europe in a different way.
It left its old ways behind in the city of Bonn.
But what has it done since? Nobody's caught on:
It tore down its walls and fixed up its cracks,
biding its time, 'till the Reich would come back.
>>69282928
This is perfect. Saved
Robinson Jeffers
Built a house in the wilderness and lived there with his wife writing poems.
Unhappy about some far off things
That are not my affair, wandering
Along the coast and up the lean ridges,
I saw in the evening
The stars go over the lonely ocean,
And a black-maned wild boar
Plowing with his snout on Mal Paso Mountain.
The old monster snuffled, "Here are sweet roots,
Fat grubs, slick beetles and sprouted acorns.
The best nation in Europe has fallen,
And that is Finland,
But the stars go over the lonely ocean,"
The old black-bristled boar,
Tearing the sod on Mal Paso Mountain.
"The world's in a bad way, my man,
And bound to be worse before it mends;
Better lie up in the mountain here
Four or five centuries,
While the stars go over the lonely ocean,"
Said the old father of wild pigs,
Plowing the fallow on Mal Paso Mountain.
"Keep clear of the dupes that talk democracy
And the dogs that talk revolution,
Drunk with talk, liars and believers.
I believe in my tusks.
Long live freedom and damn the ideologies,"
Said the gamey black-maned boar
Tusking the turf on Mal Paso Mountain.
>>69281564
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7DRElG0VSo4
Pioneers! O Pioneers!
BASED WALT WHITMAN
>>69287821
If you think this poem is /pol/ the point of it went over your head completely
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I hate jews
And niggers to
>>69301500
I know. I meant switch it around so she adores her father because he's a fascist.
>>69281564
Don’t Leave the Room
by I. Brodsky (translated from Russian)
Don’t leave the room, don’t make the mistake and run.
If you smoke Shipkas, why do you need Suns?
Things are silly out there, especially the happy clucks.
Just go to the john, and come right back.
Oh, don’t leave the room, don’t ring for a car.
Because space consists of a corridor
And ends with a counter. And should a floozy slip in,
Flashing her teeth, make her scram without stripping.
Don’t leave the room, feign that you’ve caught a chill.
What could be more fun than four walls and a chair?
Why leave this place only to come back late in
The evening same as you were, moreover, mutilated?
Oh, don’t leave the room. Dance the bossa nova
In shoes but no socks, a coat over your naked bod.
The hallway reeks of ski wax and cabbage.
You wrote a lot of letters: one more would be too much.
Don’t leave the room. Oh, just let the room imagine
What you look like. And generally, incognito
Ergo sum, as form was told in anger by substance.
Don’t leave the room! Methinks out there it ain’t France.
Don’t be a fool! Don’t be like the others.
Don’t leave the room! I.e., let the furniture have its druthers,
Blend in with the wallpaper. Lock up and let the armoire
Keep chronos, cosmos, eros, race, and virus from getting in the door.
>>69281564
Wrath of the Awakened Saxon.
>>69300981
kekerooni
