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sadhana senthilkumar

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What is your favorite poem and why?

Poems may be the keys to understanding how the invisible pieces of our soul fit together. Poems are tools that help us not only to understand ourselves but also the world around us.

As Amartya Sen said - "If one can find the right poem, quoting someone else can be as much an expression of one's deeper self as anything one can write oneself."

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    Nov 27 2011: If by Rudyard Kipling

    If you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
    If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;
    If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
    Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
    And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

    If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
    If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
    If you can meet with triumph and disaster
    And treat those two imposters just the same;
    If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
    Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
    And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

    If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
    And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breath a word about your loss;
    If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,
    And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

    If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
    Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
    If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
    If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
    Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
    And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
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      Nov 28 2011: Dear Silvia,
      I just posted this poem as one of my favorites, then scrolled down and found your contribution! Looks like we're on a similar page again...LOVE it:>)
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        Nov 29 2011: YES! I'm quite amused and happy about that as well, dear Colleen. :)
        I wanted to share another great poem in Bulgarian and hopefully translate it well so that I can get the gist of the meaning:

        Не питай за цената на мечтата -
        бори се, литвай, падай и умирай!. . .
        Носи я винаги напред -в ръката,
        възкръсвай: ставай, искай и намирай!
        Не я затваряй в себе си, в душата. . .
        Изправен дишай, никога не спирай,
        мечтай за радостта, за красотата!
        С възторг и трепет, с вяра в чудесата -
        тя ражда и мира, и светлината,
        с кръвта заплаща любовта и свободата. . .

        НЕ ПИТАЙ ЗА ЦЕНАТА НА МЕЧТАТА!. . .

        Людмил Янков 1984 год.

        Don't ask about the dream's price ...
        fight, fly, fall and die! ...
        Take it always ahead - in your hand,
        Revive: get up, want and find!
        Don't close it inside, in your soul ...
        Standing breathe, never stop,
        Dream of joy, of beauty!
        With rapture and thrill, with faith in miracles -
        it gives birth to both peace and light,
        In blood it pays for love and freedom ...

        DON'T ASK ABOUT THE DREAM'S PRICE! ...

        Lyudmil Yankov 1984

        This is a man who was lost too soon ...
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      Dec 1 2011: I'm afraid I'm also guilty of putting in my entry and not scrolling down. IF is also my favorite poem. I'd like to know when you came across this poem??. The fact that Rudyard Kipling wrote The Jungle Book, and this exquisite poem showed me as a young adult that humans have very diversified interests and talents and that we can never judge someone by just one act......We are complex individuals, and only by taking a personal interest in others and their interests and feelings do we start to understand ourselves and those around us. This one poem shaped my thinking very much from a very young age. I am so glad to know that two other individuals...and women at that also love this poem. :)
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        Dec 2 2011: Mary,
        I came across the poem "IF" at a frightening time in my life. I challenged a toxic business in the community years ago. My life was threatened, my home vandalized and damaged, and I was afraid to walk down the street in a community where I lived for 40 years. I was percieved as public enemy number 1, for trying to put these "nice people" out of business. I questioned myself and my actions over and over again during several years. The question to myself was always..."do I want to be liked and feel safe"?, or "do I want to do what is right for our environment"?

        I kept this poem close by, read and re-read it many many times to help give me strength to carry on. Finally, the business was ordered by the environmental court to vacate the site.

        If you can keep your head when all about you
        Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
        If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
        But make allowance for their doubting too;
        If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
        Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
        Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
        And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise......................

        This poem means so much to me in so many ways:>)
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          Dec 2 2011: Colleen, you are a brave woman. You will probably appreciate reading "Anyway" by Kent Keith. This poem also is a powerhouse of positive living and self worth despite what others do or say. Colleen, you were true to yourself and you stood up for what you believed in. How wonderful! Thank you for sharing this information with us. Mary :)
        • Dec 23 2011: Hi Colleen,
          The poem "IF" is also one of my favorite ones.and why did not you post till the end of the poem. here it's:

          If you can keep your head when all about you
          Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
          If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
          But make allowance for their doubting too:
          If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
          Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
          Or being hated don't give way to hating,
          And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

          If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
          If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
          If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
          And treat those two impostors just the same:.
          If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
          Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
          Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
          And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

          If you can make one heap of all your winnings
          And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
          And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
          And never breathe a word about your loss:
          If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
          To serve your turn long after they are gone,
          And so hold on when there is nothing in you
          Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

          If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
          Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
          If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
          If all men count with you, but none too much:
          If you can fill the unforgiving minute
          With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
          Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
          And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!


          Rudyard Kipling
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        Dec 2 2011: Dear Mary,
        Thank you. I DID enjoy reading the poem "ANYWAY", which I had not seen before...thank you:>)

        I think/feel that bravery comes and goes. The piece that never leaves my mind and heart, is that I did not come back to this earth school to be complacent:>)
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        Dec 26 2011: Hi Alisa,
        I posted the entire poem in another comment earlier and didn't want to take up any more space.
        It is always good for a repeat...thanks:>)
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      Dec 2 2011: This one's for all TEDsters. :-) :-)
      (I have too many favorite poems to pick just one).

      Out
      Of a great need
      We are all holding hands
      And climbing.

      Not loving is a letting go.
      Listen,

      The terrain around here
      Is
      Far too
      Dangerous
      For that.

      This poem is called "A Great Need" - by Hafiz ...... maybe " Not loving is a letting go" would be a better title !!!! In other words “ A world without love is a deadly place.” - Dr Helen Fisher
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    Nov 28 2011: The message

    Silence, they say, is the voice of complicity.
    But silence is impossible.
    Silence screams.
    Silence is a message,
    just as doing nothing is an act.

    Let who you are ring out and resonate
    in every word and every deed.
    Yes, become who you are.
    There's no side stepping your own being,
    or your own responsibility.

    What you do is who you are.
    You are your own comeuppance.
    You become your own message.

    You are the message.

    -Leonard Peltier, 1998

    ....that is one of my favorites for an extremely internal and personal relationship which lives within myself.
    This is another, but for a message I wish for the uni-verse (one-song) to hear...

    What mad Nijinsky wrote
    About Diaghilev
    Is true of the normal heart;
    For the error bred in the bone
    Of each woman and each man
    Craves what it cannot have,
    Not universal love,
    But to be loved alone....
    And no one exists alone;
    Hunger allows no choice
    To the citizen or the police:
    We must love one another or die.
    -W.H. Auden, I believe..

    It may be titled, The Normal Heart, that, I am also not completely sure of. I read it years ago in a play by Larry Kramer, called: September, 1939

    thank you all for sharing your words. It is like the opening of an old wound and becoming vulnerable to others when we share words and thoughts of our personal love. Without this opportunity, to share and offer ourselves to each other, the wounds have a greater chance of scarring over, rendering love, and our hopes nothing more than a distant intellectual memory that warns us of risk and fear of ever hurting again. For me, keeping this wound open I never forget the intense feelings of being alive because I am, yet, in touch with the emotion, and this justifies the future risk of all that I may share, say or do.
    As Amartya Sen put so well, "If one can find the right poem, quoting someone else can be as much an expression of one's deeper self as anything one can write oneself." Thanks Amartya; your quote, my feelings. Tim.
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      Dec 3 2011: Speaking of silence ...
      Here's Leonard Cohen's poem, "Gift" from 1958.

      You tell me that silence
      is nearer to peace than poems
      but if for my gift
      I brought you silence
      (for I know silence)
      you would say
      "This is not silence
      this is another poem"
      and you would hand it back to me.

      (And who has written more beautifully about silence than Paul Simon?):

      . . .
      And in the naked light I saw
      Ten thousand people, maybe more
      People talking without speaking
      People hearing without listening
      People writing songs that voices never share
      And no one dared
      Disturb the sound of silence

      "Fools", said I, "You do not know
      Silence like a cancer grows
      Hear my words that I might teach you
      Take my arms that I might reach you"
      But my words, like silent raindrops fell
      And echoed
      In the wells of silence.
      . . .
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      Dec 3 2011: I personally love to luxuriate in the "sound of silence".......where I can think about my thinking.

      Wonderful reflection at the end of your entry Mr. Petersen.
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      Dec 9 2011: This is a -beautiful beautiful beautiful thought -
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        Dec 10 2011: Juliette, Mary, and Paul,
        I failed to insert my reply to all of you properly and it has ended up at the top of the page.
        Thanks again, to all of you.
  • Dec 2 2011: Too many favorites to name one but this poem really struck me when I first read it and its power has stayed with me.


    Love After Love by Derek Wolcott:

    The time will come
    when, with elation
    you will greet yourself arriving
    at your own door, in your own mirror
    and each will smile at the other's welcome,

    and say, sit here. Eat.
    You will love again the stranger who was your self.
    Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
    to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

    all your life, whom you ignored
    for another, who knows you by heart.
    Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

    the photographs, the desperate notes,
    peel your own image from the mirror.
    Sit. Feast on your life.
  • Dec 1 2011: THE INVITATION by ORIAH

    It doesn’t interest me
    what you do for a living.
    I want to know
    what you ache for
    and if you dare to dream
    of meeting your heart’s longing.
    It doesn’t interest me
    how old you are.
    I want to know
    if you will risk
    looking like a fool
    for love
    for your dream,
    for the adventure of being alive.
    It doesn’t interest me
    what planets are
    squaring your moon...
    I want to know
    if you have touched
    the centre of your own sorrow
    if you have been opened
    by life’s betrayals
    or have become shrivelled and closed
    from fear of further pain.
    I want to know
    if you can sit with pain
    mine or your own
    without moving to hide it
    or fade it
    or fix it.
    I want to know
    if you can be with joy
    mine or your own
    if you can dance with wildness
    and let the ecstasy fill you
    to the tips of your fingers and toes
    without cautioning us
    to be careful
    to be realistic
    to remember the limitations
    of being human.
    It doesn’t interest me
    if the story you are telling me is true.
    I want to know if you can
    disappoint another
    to be true to yourself.
    If you can bear
    the accusation of betrayal
    and not betray your own soul.
    If you can be faithless
    and therefore trustworthy.
    I want to know if you can see Beauty
    even when it is not pretty
    every day.
    And if you can source your own life
    from its presence.
    I want to know
    if you can live with failure
    yours and mine
    and still stand at the edge of the lake
    and shout to the silver of the full moon,
    “Yes.”
    It doesn’t interest me
    to know where you live
    or how much money you have.
    I want to know if you can get up
    after the night of grief and despair
    weary and bruised to the bone
    and do what needs to be done
    to feed the children.
    It doesn’t interest me
    who you know
    or how you came to be here.
    I want to know if you will stand
    in the centre of the fire
    with me
    and not shrink back.
    It doesn’t interest me
    where or what or with whom
    you have studied.
    I want to know
    what sustains you
    from the inside
    when all else falls away.
    I want to know
    if you can be alone
    with
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      Dec 2 2011: continued...
      I want to know
      if you can be alone
      with yourself
      and if you truly like
      the company you keep
      in the empty moments.


      By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming,
      from the book The Invitation

      Miki,
      This is another one of my favorites...thanks:>)
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    Nov 30 2011: My favorite poem is IF by Rudyard Kipling. The first time I read it was in high school. I remember thinking, I want to be just like this poem's character. Of course, I think the last line can be changed to include women. I keep a copy of it in my notebook of quotes and sayings. I love words and how they can move me. IF is a poem that has the ability to do just that. It is too long to copy here, but I invite you to look it up. It starts like this....
    "If you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
    If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
    But make allowance for their doubting too.".......
  • Nov 27 2011: The poem that has been most intriguing to me has been 'Jabberwocky' by Lewis Carroll

    This nonsensical poem exudes a mastery of language which few others have obtained in my opinion. To tell a story using fantastical words and still have the ability to paint such a vivid picture out of nothing is phenomenal.


    `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
    All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

    "Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
    The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
    Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
    The frumious Bandersnatch!"

    He took his vorpal sword in hand:
    Long time the manxome foe he sought --
    So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
    And stood awhile in thought.

    And, as in uffish thought he stood,
    The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
    Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
    And burbled as it came!

    One, two! One, two! And through and through
    The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
    He left it dead, and with its head
    He went galumphing back.

    "And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
    Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
    O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
    He chortled in his joy.

    `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
    All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.
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      Nov 28 2011: well they say this is not just nonesense and Carrol had a deep sense of how to merge morphemes and coin new words. I do love the way he always puts forth ideas unthought before...:)
  • Nov 27 2011: Desiderata
    (There is still conflict about who wrote it)

    I will not post it all here but...
    You are a child of the universe
    No less then the trees and stars
    You have a right to be here

    ETC...

    That poem has always played a major roll in my life.
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    Nov 27 2011: I don't think of it as my "favorite" - Instead just as one of the most important poems to me personally. It captures that moment we experience when change occurs, and change is what we are here for in one way or another...

    The Journey

    One day you finally knew
    what you had to do, and began,
    though the voices around you
    kept shouting
    their bad advice --
    though the whole house
    began to tremble
    and you felt the old tug
    at your ankles.
    "Mend my life!"
    each voice cried.
    But you didn't stop.
    You knew what you had to do,
    though the wind pried
    with its stiff fingers
    at the very foundations,
    though their melancholy
    was terrible.
    It was already late
    enough, and a wild night,
    and the road full of fallen
    branches and stones.
    But little by little,
    as you left their voices behind,
    the stars began to burn
    through the sheets of clouds,
    and there was a new voice
    which you slowly
    recognized as your own,
    that kept you company
    as you strode deeper and deeper
    into the world,
    determined to do
    the only thing you could do --
    determined to save
    the only life you could save.

    -Mary Oliver
    • Nov 27 2011: Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem. It is truly inspiring.
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    Dec 11 2011: Here is a favorite from my "lighter side", I think in it many of us may hear ourselves.

    The Double Life

    How very simple life would be
    If only there were two of me
    A restless me to drift and roam
    A quiet me to stay at home.
    A Searching One to find his fill
    Of varied skies and new found thrill
    While sane and homely things are done
    By the domestic Other One.

    And that's just where the trouble lies;
    There is a Restless Me that cries
    For chancey risks and changing scene,
    For arctic blue and tropic green,
    For deserts with their mystic spell,
    For lusty fun and raising Hell
    But shackled to that Restless Me
    My other self rebeliously
    Resists the frantic urge to move.
    It seeks the old familiar groove
    That habits make. It finds content
    With hearth and home-dear prisonment,
    With candle light and well-loved books
    And treasured loot in dusty nooks,
    With puttering and garden things
    And dreaming while a cricket sings
    And all the while the Restless One
    Insists on more exciting fun.
    It wants to go with every tide,
    No matter where....just for the ride.
    Like yowling cats the two selves brawl
    Until I have no peace at all.

    One eye turns to the forward track,
    The other eye looks sadly back.
    I'm getting wall-eyed from the strain,
    (It's tough to have an idle brain)
    But One says "Stay" and One says "Go"
    And One says "Yes," and One says "No,"
    And One Self wants a home and wife
    And One Self craves the drifter's life.

    The Restless Fellow always wins
    I wish my folks had made me twins.

    --Don Blanding

    In the way this provokes relaxation and a little smile for me I hope you all enjoy it, too.
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    Dec 10 2011: Without the need to say, I am compelled to acknowledge my gratitude to all of you for meeting me on this path. While sharing myself with everyone here I am afforded the opportunity to consciously remind myself of who I strive to be. When you respond so kindly I am given the strength and confidence to continue in this direction. Sometimes.... most of the time, I lack the courage to express how I think. Thank you Juliette and Mary for understanding me and giving the assurance of collective hearts contemplating in harmony.
    Thanks Paul, because you have also made evident that everything is energy and power, even in silence. We are unable to conceal all that we have been taught to believe sleeps in silence. Energy and power never sleep and silence speaks infinitely.
    I really, really appreciate like-minded hearts, it is my pleasure to have met you all.
  • B Maher

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    Dec 9 2011: Here's my favorite poem and the part that speaks most powerfully to me is the line about what happens when we let our own light shine.....

    Our Greatest Fear —Marianne Williamson

    It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us
    Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
    Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
    It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.
    We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
    talented and fabulous?

    Actually, who are you not to be?
    You are a child of God.
    Your playing small does not serve the world.
    There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other
    people won't feel insecure around you.

    We were born to make manifest the glory of
    God that is within us.

    It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
    And as we let our own light shine,
    we unconsciously give other people
    permission to do the same.

    As we are liberated from our own fear,
    Our presence automatically liberates others.

    —Marianne Williamson
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    Dec 5 2011: “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
    there is a field.
    I'll meet you there.

    When the soul lies down in that grass,
    the world is too full to talk about.
    Ideas, language, even the phrase “each other”
    doesn't make any sense.”

    - Rumi

    I love this because we - all of us- belong here.
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    Nov 28 2011: very hard to decide but hear is a very loved one by Poe:
    A dream within a dream
    Take this kiss upon the brow!
    And, in parting from you now,
    Thus much let me avow-
    You are not wrong, who deem
    That my days have been a dream;
    Yet if hope has flown away
    In a night, or in a day,
    In a vision, or in none,
    Is it therefore the less gone?
    All that we see or seem
    Is but a dream within a dream.
    I stand amid the roar
    Of a surf-tormented shore,
    And I hold within my hand
    Grains of the golden sand-
    How few! yet how they creep
    Through my fingers to the deep,
    While I weep- while I weep!
    O God! can I not grasp
    Them with a tighter clasp?
    O God! can I not save
    One from the pitiless wave?
    Is all that we see or seem
    But a dream within a dream?


    see how beautifully he engages in the idea of persuit of reality which is not to be found whatsoever...
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        Nov 30 2011: Poe is one of the most enigmatic personalities I have ever known.This poem can be construed in many different ways lets say subjectively.that is what poetry is all about. that u can get what u want out of it.
        thamks for the comments though:)
  • Nov 28 2011: Did you hear about the rose that grew
    from a crack in the concrete?
    Proving nature's law is wrong it
    learned to walk with out having feet.
    Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams,
    it learned to breathe fresh air.
    Long live the rose that grew from concrete
    when no one else ever cared.

    By 2pac.
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    Nov 28 2011: There are so many wonderful poems, it's difficult to choose a favorite. This is ONE of my favorites.
    Why? Just read it:>)

    IF
    If you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
    If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too:
    If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
    Or being hated don't give way to hating,
    And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

    If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
    If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
    If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same:.
    If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
    Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

    If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
    And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
    And never breathe a word about your loss:
    If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,
    And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

    If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
    Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
    If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much:
    If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
    Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
    And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!


    Rudyard Kipling
  • Nov 28 2011: I felt the trust disintegrate
    I watched the loving die
    Did you ever really love me or,
    was your love a lovely lie.

    After the breakdown of a marriage this poem poleaxed me.
  • Nov 27 2011: I don't have one favourite poem, there are many. This is one of them..

    The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayam

    Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
    Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
    And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught
    The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light. 1

    Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky
    I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,
    “Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup
    Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry.”

    More here http://www.humanistictexts.org/omar_khayyam.htm
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      Nov 28 2011: well u have probably read only the english translation. if u read the original persian version u would just love the poems more than ever...:)
      • Nov 28 2011: I'm sure you are right Zahra - much is always lost in translation. :)
  • Nov 27 2011: Whitman loved life and found such soulful inspiration in every corner of it.
    His poetry has a cadence that puts the reader deeply in touch with the subject matter.
    For me, "A Clear Midnight" is that space in between awake and asleep. It describes a winding down of thought and has always felt like a personal lullaby, the gift of a clear conscious and the promise of a good nights sleep.
    There is a gentleness to Whitman that I have always loved.

    A Clear Midnight

    THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
    Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
    Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou
    lovest best.
    Night, sleep, and the stars.

    Walt Whitman
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      Nov 28 2011: I do adore his the song of myself, the strong voice he uses and the way he puts the thoughts into words is just amazing...A clear midnight is also great, applies to me and my hectic life:)
  • Nov 27 2011: This remains one of my most favorite poems because of the million ways
    to interpret it's meaning & for it's accessibility to any age group.

    But mostly, because I'm still not sure if I'm the Bagpipe, or the Turtle ;P

    "The Bagpipe Who Didn't Say No" by Shel Silverstein

    It was nine o'clock at midnight at a quarter after three
    When a turtle met a bagpipe on the shoreside by the sea,
    And the turtle said, "My dearie,
    May I sit with you? I'm weary."
    And the bagpipe didn't say no.
    Said the turtle to the bagpipe, "I have walked this lonely shore,
    I have talked to waves and pebbles--but I've never loved before.
    Will you marry me today, dear?
    Is it 'No' you're going to say dear?"
    But the bagpipe didn't say no.

    Said the turtle to his darling, "Please excuse me if I stare,
    But you have the plaidest skin, dear,
    And you have the strangest hair.
    If I begged you pretty please, love,
    Could I give you just one squeeze, love?"
    And the bagpipe didn't say no.

    Said the turtle to the bagpipe, "Ah, you love me. Then confess!
    Let me whisper in your dainty ear and hold you to my chest."
    And he cuddled her and teased her
    And so lovingly he squeezed her.
    And the bagpipe said, "Aaooga."

    Said the turtle to the bagpipe, "Did you honk or bray or neigh?
    For 'Aaooga' when your kissed is such a heartless thing to say.
    Is it that I have offended?
    Is it that our love is ended?"
    And the bagpipe didn't say no.

    Said the turtle to the bagpipe, "Shall i leave you, darling wife?
    Shall i waddle off to Woedom? Shall i crawl out of your life?
    Shall I move, depart and go, dear--
    Oh, I beg you tell me 'No' dear!"
    But the bagpipe didn't say no.

    So the turtle crept off crying and he ne'er came back no more,
    And he left the bagpipe lying on that smooth and sandy shore.
    And some night when tide is low there,
    Just walk up and say, "Hello, there,"
    And politely ask the bagpipe if this story's really so.
    I assure you, darling children, the bagpipe won't say "No.
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    Nov 27 2011: Very difficult question for me.....as my list of favourite is very very long...........the moment I come across one good poetry it sneaks in that list...........many of which is in my language which I am unable to translate due to my zero poetic skill and poor english.........

    Below is one from Edgar Allan Poe , that I came across just a hour back from a quote actually

    From every depth of good & il
    lThe mystry which binds me still
    From the torrent or the fountain
    From the red cliff of the mountain
    My heart to joy at the same tone
    And all I loved , I loved alone

    Sorry for any mistake in above if any.......

    Liked it because and talks about desire of human or LOVE & solitude of LOVER

    Great poems quoted below by TEDsters are also getting in to my list..........happy I am list got even longer..... thanks everyone for sharing :)
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      Nov 28 2011: Allan Poe is just great, his the raneb and the bells and annabel lee and a lot more. ,..
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        Nov 28 2011: I am also great fan of Rubayat of Omar Khayyam, though read all in translated version....even than simply great............ those are
  • Nov 27 2011: the love song of j. alfred prufock by t.s.eliotLET us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats 5 Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question…. 10 Oh, do not ask, “What is it?” Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, 15 The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20 And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window panes; 25 There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30 Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go 35 Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?” Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40 (They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”) My morning coat, my collar mounting fir sorry did not fit please see web
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      Nov 28 2011: T S Eliot is just marvellous the way he conveys the message and the uncecidablity of the situation and the weaknesses of Prufrock...
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    Dec 23 2011: Thank you, for being here, Dayna. One of my concious daily struggles is looking for reason in our world today. If only I could see beyond my self indulgent animosity as Leonard seems to have done. Oprah Winfrey once said, "Forgiveness is the ability to accept the fact that our past will never be any different than it is." (para-phrased) Leonard, through his loss, has given me alot of strength. It is confusing; trying to be okay with something that I never want to be okay with. Where is my balance? Leonard's words are helping me live with issues and situations no one should be forced to live with. Thank you, again, Dayna.
  • Dec 13 2011: My favorite one is "The Cricket and the grasshopper." Like the title suggests, this poem is very simple to read and understand. Nonetheless, it sends across several different morals, things that perhaps our society has forgotten. It illuminates the importance of cherishing and making the most out of each moment in life, it encourages each human to be strong and last but not the least, the simplicity portrays just how wonderful the most simple things in life can be.
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    Dec 12 2011: My favourite poem is by ee cummings. For me, no poet is able to capture the subtlety of love and beauty, as well as the manic passion of life as poignantly and viscerally as ee cummings. This poem makes me remember every lovers kiss, every embrace, the slightest touch and those quiet moments that make life worth living.

    somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
    any experience,your eyes have their silence:
    in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
    or which i cannot touch because they are too near

    your slightest look easily will unclose me
    though i have closed myself as fingers,
    you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
    (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

    or if your wish be to close me, i and
    my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
    as when the heart of this flower imagines
    the snow carefully everywhere descending;

    nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
    the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
    compels me with the color of its countries,
    rendering death and forever with each breathing

    (i do not know what it is about you that closes
    and opens;only something in me understands
    the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
    nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
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    Dec 10 2011: My favorite poem is one by Dorothea Grossman...

    "I have to tell you,
    there are times when the sun
    strikes me like a gong,
    and I remember everything,
    even your ears."

    ...because it is impossible not to understand it.