Favourite Poems

[atessalev]

Death Be Not Proud
By John Donne (1572-1631)

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so
For, those, whom thou thinkst, thou doth overthrow
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures be
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow
And soonest our best men with thee do go
Rest of their bones, their souls deliveree
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, Kings and desperate men
And dost with poison, war and sickness dwell
And poppy, or charms, can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then;
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

[Funk Monk]

I don't have a single favourite poem, but I have some favourite poets. They're Danish though, some guys called Dan Turéll and Michael Strunge.

Here's an example, a well known Dan Turéll poem (which I've translated):

I should had been a cabdriver
- Oh i should had been a cabdriver
i suddenly see it -
that is what i should had been!

I would had been the cabdriver of all time
the cabdriver's Greatest Hit
The Cabdriver to end all Cabdrivers -

I would had sat there at the steering wheel
be home and at work simultaneously
as in a snail-shell
or as the perfect pub host -
i would sit next to the costumer
separated by ashtray and creaking gear lever
and i would sit erect and calm as a routined rat -

and i would make it cosy for the customer
i would tell them encouraging news from the weather report
(i would have the radio running all day
and maybe even a thermo jug)
i would give them advice and tips
about where they should go to for what
and where they could find the same cheaper
or where they could find the same with music -

I would give proposals for their pools coupons
and commemorate the bronze team of 1948 or the Fiffer-revues

with the elderly customers
i would help them all with their problems
i would had been through the same
from alcohol to divorce.
from stress to schizophrenia
and i would be sympathetic
and i would try not to know better -

buuut at the same time i would be a total devil in the inner City-traffic!
I would know exactly where and when
i could round the corner on two wheels
i would calculate the traffic on the way
as in a chess game

i would know all the shortcuts and loopholes
i would treat the steering wheel as my own hand -
i would mercilessly see through the despaired manoeuvres of the other motorists
And i wouldn't hesitate with criticising their driving -
i would comment on it loudly and entertaining
while i self discoursing drove nonchalantly perfect
with one finger on the steering wheel
throughout the whole city
in every kind of weather
at all times day and night
with all possible people of all ages and sexes and kinds
and i would smile at all of them
and admit that it was too much
it was hard times
but that it would probably still work out
as long as one didn't lose the good mood -

And once in a while -
maybe once a month
i would be gloomy and hard starring
and black and sinister and misanthropic and moon sick and
suspicious
and look like i expected everyone to knock me down from behind
or at least run from the bill -
that day i would yell and scream obscenities and swearwords
against all the other cars of the city
and that day i would be able to laugh internally -

but the morning after i would anew
and at least a month forth
be the same good old regularly beloved chauffeur
"Taxi-Turéll"
as they would call me -

i almost can't wait
when i grow up i want to be a cabdriver!
in my next life i might become a cabdriver - FINALLY!

[rikhardhur]

Followe thy faire sunne. (1601) by Thomas Campion

Followe thy faire sunne, vnhappy shadowe,
Though thou be blacke as night,
And she made all of light,
Yet follow thy faire sun, vnhappie shadowe.
Follow her whose light thy light depriueth,
Though here thou liu'st disgrac't,
And she in heauen is plac't,
Yet follow her whose light the world reuiueth.

Follow those pure beames whose beautie burneth,
That so haue scorched thee,
As thou still blacke must bee,
Til her kind beames thy black to brightnes turneth.

Follow her while yet her glorie shineth:
There comes a luckles night,
That will dim all her light;
And this the black vnhappie shade deuineth.

Follow still since so thy fates ordained;
The Sunne must haue his shade,
Till both at once doe fade,
The Sun still proud, the shadow still disdained.

[Bilaad Binti]

Im a poet, my specialty is lyrical poetry of a romantic nature...for example this one I wrote to a special someone, last summer:

The Good Day

When you’re happy, I’m happy
Whereas when I’m happy, you’re happy
Such is the manner of those beguiled by each other.
Charmed, Enticed, Captivated, Fascinated…
You say hypnotized, I say: “Mesmerized”

With our voices whispering via the phone...
The most frivolous banter, as engaging and filling as a royal meal.
And in spite of the restrictions, of a bad connection,
Or of time…be it a month of irreparable silence...
Or of the heart…be it because of a hefty wall that imprisons it.
No matter, the good day always prevails.

No… this poem neither rhymes, nor does it flirt…
Those arts are meant for more trivial pursuits
This is a letter, a sonnet meant to praise
Those good days, may they always prevail.

As a captive of your heart, my (xxxxx)…I may lack your intuition
I may be in need of a sixth sense, but I knew there was a wall
But with sincerity my chisel, I hoped to break down this wall
And though, second guessing myself might hinder me at times,
I now realize, it was a good day to have made that midnight call.

[atessalev]

That's excellent, Wadaad!

I've been reading Ottoman Lyric Poetry: An Anthology (edited) by Andrews, Black and Kalpakli for a while now. If lyric poetry is your thing, you should check out some of the Ottoman poets, in particular the ones that belong to the Mevlevi order.

I like Seyh Galib, so here's a short poem by him:


If I say that the skies have opened

If I say that the skies have opened, the spring has come,
I mean that my beloved has shown me some affection.

If I say that the meadow is adorned with blossoms,
it conveys that my sweetheart spoke to me with a smile.


It's not my favourite, but the one that is is longer, and i can't be bothered typing it out at this moment.