I'm not the biggest of poetry fans, but I do like it a lot. Occasionally I'll read a poem that really gets under my skin - it'll be in my head on a continual loop, each stanza over and over again; I'll link it to any mundane event that happens during the day and I won't be able to get it out of my system at all. I've been thinking a lot about this recently and have picked out my personal favourite poems. Interestingly, they're all very different; from different periods with different themes.

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT >> DYLAN THOMAS
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
++ I'm sort of a huge Doctor Who fan, and this poem was quoted by David Tennant on the Confidential for the most recent episode, The Waters of Mars. It fits the whole character of the Doctor so well at the moment and is an incredibly powerful poem for me currently.

THE RAVEN >> EDGAR ALLAN POE
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.
++ It's a huge poem so I only quoted the first two stanzas, both of them very atmospheric anyway. When I was 14 I learnt the whole thing for some reason, just for the sake of it. I still love it.

SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY >> LORD BYRON
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
++ Until yesterday I'd completely forgotten that I loved this poem. My English Lit teacher mentioned it and I thought "Ooh, Byron" - so I looked it up and suddenly remembered that I already knew it! It's beautiful.
I also happen to love two of Carol Ann Duffy's poems, Little Red Cap and Eley's Bullet, but they're not available on the internet so I assume that means you can't replicate them. The latter is tragic and beautiful, and the former is a brilliant autobiographical retelling of Little Red Riding Hood. I didn't used to be a Duffy fan, but in the past year or so I've found myself becoming more and more fond of her work, especially from The World's Wife.
So that's about it. If I come across any more poems that affect me I'll try and post them here, but these are the ones I currently love :-)













