I yield to your superior knowledge of Whitman, although I’ve been convinced that there’s a condescending tone to that poem for so long that I doubt I’ll ever be able to think of it differently. It reminds me of the scene from Our Town in which the stage manager brings on a scientist and asks him about Grover’s Corners, and the scientist gives some boring spiel about the geology of the region, which is, of course, by far the least interesting thing about the town. In both examples I see an implication not only that scientists have their own specialized set of knowledge, but that their eggheaded-ivory-tower nature prevents them from seeing the other, presumably more important, side of things.
As well, I’ve always adored Dylan Thomas’ “Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night,” which was already mentioned. I love “Tenderness” Nacho4Sara, thank you for posting that. tavalla also reminded me of how much I like Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Thanks everyone, for sharing.
That 29th by Will–I’d forgotten. Great!
Thanks to Niobium Knight for bringing in Larkin. But I’d have chosen two others of his, where he so succinctly puts into words a really chilling and almost impossible to grasp reality of the nothing that awaits us. The poems are “Aubade,” and “Next, Please.” They’ll creep you right out. And they are short.
My favorite poem by my favorite poet: " Her kind" by Anne Sexton.
I have trouble picking favorites, so I feel I should mention the others I adore, too.
“I feel as if I am at a dead end” by Allen Ginsberg
“Midterm break” by Seamus Heaney
“Not waving but drowning” by Stevie Smith
“We Talk” by Jewel Kitchner
“In this room particularly” by Jim Carroll
For the most part, I only like modern and post-modern poetry, which was something than many of the other English majors I knew found offensive and incomprehensible. Sorry, I’m not one for blind adoration of an entire cannon of work, so sue me. Maybe people who kept telling me that one needs be crazy to major in English were right…
When I was a young child, I had a book of poetry, with illustrations. My favorite poem in the book was William Blakes “The Tiger.” It always makes me shiver to read it. I assume it’s out of copyright but I’ll just post my favorite verse:
No no, the craziness comes from four years of hearing people remark, “Oh, an English major? Planning on becoming a teacher, are ya?” when, in fact, you’re not.
You might be onto something there…and the fun never stops. My new favorite question is “You have a degree in English Teaching, why do you teach preschool now?” Because, obviously being someone who: is smaller than most of the teens I know; is often told looks 18 or 19 years old, and is a poor discipliner would be a perfect person to be seen as a classroom authority to 14-18 years olds. Of course the people who ask this are doing things even less connected to their degrees, which is all the more maddening. <shakes head>
I’ve always liked “For Whom the Bell Tolls” by John Donne:
No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine: if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Mannor of thy friends or of thine owne were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.
