Favorite Poems (let's collect some)

[Brown Dog]

Can't say this is a favourite, but it's one I've never forgotten since (what most of you would call) high school:

It's by ee cummings. See if you can make sense of it!

A B C D gol'fish
M N O gol'fish
S D R gol'fish
R D R gol'fish

[royinidaho]

The Rubaiyat

By Omar Khayyam

XXVII
Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument
About it and about: but evermore
Came out by the same door where in I went.

Life changing for me when I read it many years ago. Finally I did come out by a different door.

Pretty much applies to shooting also. Always came out the same door until I stumbled on LRH [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/wink.gif[/img]

[col48]

I saw a jolly hunter
With a jolly gun
Walking in the country
In the jolly sun.


In the jolly meadow
Sat a jolly hare.
Saw the jolly hunter.
Took jolly care.


Hunter jolly eager-
Sight of jolly prey.
Forgot gun pointing
Wrong jolly way.


Jolly hunter jolly head
Over heels gone.
Jolly old safety catch
Not jolly on.


Bang went the jolly gun.
Hunter jolly dead.
Jolly hare got clean away.
Jolly good, I said.

The poem is by Charles Causley

[col48]

When I was out shooting
by Andy James Turner


Saw a bird merrily singing in the sky
Shot it
Came across a deer in misty dell
Shot it
Saw a man feeding a duck in the park
Shot it
Saw a swan so graceful it could be
Shot it
Saw a squirrel jumping trees
Shot it
Saw a nest full of honey bees
Shot it
Saw a goose on the loose
Shot it
Saw a fox by a bin
Shot it
Saw a dove lonely for love
Guess what? Shot it
Saw a cat chasing rat
Shot it
Saw a mole digging a hole
Need a new colour Kodak roll
Guess what?
Missed it.

[C1PNR]

One I've always liked, and find very appropriate these days:

Mending Wall

[speedbump]

Invictus: http://www.bartleby.com/103/7.html I was enraged when that murdering bastard Timothy McVeigh claimed this as his eulogy, but it's powerful nonetheless.

[fnmauser]

So dissapointed in you guys. Here it is. "twas only by a favour of mine, quoth he, ye rode so long alive. There was not a rock for twenty miles,there was not a clump of tree, But covered a man by my own men with his rifle cocked on his knee. It I had raised my bridle-hand, has I have held it low, the little jackals that flee so fast were feasting all in a row. If I had bowed my head on my breast, as I have held it high, the kite that whistles above us now were gorged till she could not fly...." Kipling