Post your favorite poem!! Thought it would be neat for us all to share poetry. I love to read poetry but i cant make it lol. So what you do is to post you favorite poem down and share what it means to us or reminds us about. Hope yall have fun!! O Captain! My Captain! by Walt Whitman 1 O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done; The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won; The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring: But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. 2 O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills; For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding; For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head; It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead. 3 My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. This poem reminds me of all the troops who died for our country to give us the freedom we have now. Please share your thoughts and poems
"Militat omnis amans, et habet sua castra Cupido: Attice, crede mihi, militat omnis amans." - Ovid, 16 BC
This is the poem that AshesofEden put. Every lover serves as a soldier, also Cupid has his own camp; Believe me, Atticus, every lover serves as a soldier. The age which is apt for war, is also suitable for Love: Disgraceful [is] an old man as a soldier, disgraceful [is] an elderly lover. Those spirits which leaders look for in a brave soldier, A beautiful girl seeks these in a man as her companion: Both keep watch at night; each rests on the ground; That one guards the doors of his mistress, that one his general’s. The duty of the soldier is the long road: send the girl away, The vigorous lover will follow with boundary removed; He will go onto hostile mountains and rivers doubled By a rainstorm, he will tread his way through piled up snows, Nor [when] about to press the seas, will he plead the swollen Southeast Wind And seek stars suitable for sweeping across the waters. Who, if neither a soldier nor a lover, will endure the frosts Of the night and snow mixed with dense rain? One is sent among the hostile foes as a spy, The other keeps his eye upon his rival, as his enemy. That one besieges mighty cities, that one the threshold of A harsh girlfriend; one breaks down gates, the other doors. Often it has been beneficial to attack sleepy enemies And to slaughter an unarmed crowd with an armed hand; Thus the fierce troops of Thracian Rhesus fell, And you, captured horses, deserted your master: Certainly lovers use the sleep of husbands And move their weapons after the enemies sleep. It is always the work of a soldier and a wretched lover To pass through the bands of guards and troops of watchmen. Mars is doubtful nor is Venus certain; and the conquered rise again, And those whom you say never could be brought down, fall. Therefore whoever called love idleness, May he stop: love has an active nature. Sad Achilles burnt against the abducted Briseis (While you may, break the Argive strength, Trojans); Hector went from the embrace of Andromache to war, And she who gave him a helmet for his head, was his wife; The greatest of leaders, son of Atreus, having seen Priam’s daughter is said To have been stupefied by her flowing Maenad’s hair. Mars, also having been caught, felt the chains of the blacksmith: No story was more famous in heaven. I myself was lazy and born for loose-clad leisure; The couch and shade had softened my spirit; Love for a beautiful girl urged on idle [me], And ordered me to earn wages in his camps. Then you see me agile and waging nocturnal war: He who does not want to become idle, let him love.
So i walked out the shop, I was happy because i brought a top. Then i was sitting on the grass, And a girl walk past, And i said "daymmn look at dat ass" l('o')l
looking in the mirror who do i see who is this little boy staring back at me? is he my begginging? is he my end? is he my brother? is he my friend? The hurt in his face, the pain in his eyes is it his or mine, the tears that he cries the hurt in his heart, the wretched soul no where to run, no one to console are we the same this little boy and i is the reflection i see his or mine? trying to convience myself that he is not real how do i shake these feelings. how should i feel? does he cry inside? does he hide his pain? does he see the clouds for the sun or the rain? Looking in the mirror i see the image of me. no longer a little boy but a young man i see. i am strong, no longer weak. no longer afraid, no longer meak. with the courage of a lion i confront my fears. only laughter, no more tears! i have shed the pain that has held me down. reaching for my future i am success bound. realizing that only i hold the key. i hold the power, i am finallly set free. i am me..Strong and Smart. taking back my selfworth and playing the part. the young man i've become is full of grace. graceful is my future. i've taken my place! poem i made last year for a school assignment that i posted online for others to see