hey i am desprite for a really good poem and i really need to know what kind it is!

It's a sonnet.

No. It's a limerick.

Tsk, tsk, you teasers!

Ok, I'll try to be a bit more helpful. Go to the poet list (on top of the page) and just scroll along the poets and read different poems. Choose one you like. Post it here, and we'll help you with figuring out what kind it is.

a good poem is something that u can express urself with... u write a poem when you're bored, or sad.. or happy.. or whatever...it's just about what you're thinking about, or feel.
I hope this has helped u!

seriously kids, he, like me, wants to know the name of a good poem. so just write the name of a poem and what kind it is. i would like to know too. so, thanks. bye

An example of a good poem is right here in this Forum; Intellectual Intercourse by Lady of Eternal Darkness...oops, I mean Lady of the Night (J/K).

Its style is Modern, where-by it uses alliteration as opposed to rhyme scheme.
I think that she has amended it from the version seen here, and you would need her permission to use it in any case, but there it is.

However; I believe it was Rebecca who said it. Poetry is in the eye of the beholder, what I find superlative and enlightening, you may find dry and mundane.
What Desi has suggested however is an excellent Idea.

Brucefur

Try clicking on either 'Random Poems' or 'Top Ten poems.'

pam

I dunno, I went to,

[www.emule.com]

and clicked on Random Poem, and here is what popped out:


Come Gather Round Me, Parnellites
by: William Butler Yeats


COME gather round me, Parnellites,
And praise our chosen man;
Stand upright on your legs awhile,
Stand upright while you can,
For soon we lie where he is laid,
And he is underground;
Come fill up all those glasses
And pass the bottle round.

And here's a cogent reason,
And I have many more,
He fought the might of England
And saved the Irish poor,
Whatever good a farmer's got
He brought it all to pass;
And here's another reason,
That parnell loved a lass.

And here's a final reason,
He was of such a kind
Every man that sings a song
Keeps Parnell in his mind.
For Parnell was a proud man,
No prouder trod the ground,
And a proud man's a lovely man,
So pass the bottle round.

The Bishops and the party
That tragic story made,
A husband that had sold hiS wife
And after that betrayed;
But stories that live longest
Are sung above the glass,
And Parnell loved his countrey
And parnell loved his lass.

I couldn't figure that one out, so I went to the Top Poems list so see what else I could find. I chose #6, and got this one:


Without warning
by: Sappho


Without warning
as a whirlwind
swoops on an oak
Love shakes my heart



Read over 40,000! times, even. Strange, no?

Interesting list. Thanks, Pam, I've not glanced at those pages in a while.

I admit, I sometimes hit 'Random Poem' just to see what I get. Kind of like getting your fortune told.

pam

If you want the NAME of a good poem, I will give you one I just love.
It's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" from T.S. Elliot's "The Wasteland", but it is a lot, lot better if you hear it read to you on the tape (it's read by Sir Alec Guinness). Nevertheless I think that a good poem is just one that "touches" you, that tells you something, and that is different for every person.

Well, like truth, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
What is important is what YOU think a good poem is.

Its about personal taste.

For instance I think T.S. Elliot is an overated boring flat poet who does nothing for me at all.
But, other people swear by him, and thats cool.

Read anything by Charles Olsen, Ed Dorn, Leonard Cohen.

Also read an essay by Olsen called "Projective Verse"
on how the process of writing comes from the breath.

The trap one must not fall into is thinking that because a piece
of work comes from more than a century ago that it is good, indeed the opposite is often the case.
The Preciousness that accompanies such thinking is indeed quite laughable

Leave your mind open and explore and enjoy.



.....I think of Dean Moriarty.

love peom is the good peom .al wrote:

> hey i am desprite for a really good poem and i really
> need to know what kind it is!
I don"t know.

Friendship
--Kahlil Gibran

And a youth said, "Speak to us of Friendship."
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.
And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

Les

Horoscope
by Ted Hughes
(from Birthday Letters)

You wanted to study
Your stars-the guards
Of your prison yard, their zodiac. The planets
Muttered their Babylonish power-sprach-
Like a withcdoctor's bones. You were right to fear
How loud the bones might roar,
How clear an ear might hear
What the bones whispered
Even embedded as they were in the hot body.

Only you had no need to calculate
Degrees for your ascendant disruptor
In Aries. It meant nothing certain-no more
Accordin gto the Babylonian book
Than a scarred face. How much deeper
Under the skin could any magician peep?

You only had to look
Into the nearest face of a metaphor
Picked out of your wardrobe or off your plate
Or out of the sun or the moon or the yew tree
To see your father, your mother, or me
Bringing you your whole Fate.