I’ve had this poem running through my head all day, so I thought to put it up for your pleasure (or your pain, depending on if you like it or no.) I’m not usually a devotee of the more flowery poems, but I always liked this one.

What are your favorite poems, or just the ones that catch in your head once in a while?

Come live with me and be my love
Christopher Marlowe

it is nice… but poems that get stuck in my head are usually all the ones from the oyster boy book by tim burton.

That’s an awesome book. Interestingly, I was just flipping through it again last night at my friend’s house.

One that always gets stuck in my head is this one:

Love bade me welcome

Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack’d anything.

“Truth, Lord, but I have marr’d them; let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.“
“And know you not,“ says Love, “who bore the blame?“
“My dear, then I will serve.“
“You must sit down,“ says Love, “and taste my meat.“
So I did sit and eat.

—George Herbert

I saw this one presented as a skit with various interpretations by Uni students when I was in high school…consequently, it’s one that’s always stuck with me…

I’ve got another one that I get stuck in my head ocassionally…this one my Geography teacher gave out to the class…:gulp:

MY FIRST TIME

The sky was dark The moon was high
All alone Just her and I
Her hair so soft Her eyes so blue
I knew just what She wanted to do
Her skin so smooth Her legs so fine
I ran my fingers down her spine
I didn’t know how but I tried my best
To place my hand on her breasts
I remember my fear my fast beating heart
But slowly she spread Her legs apart
And when she did it I felt no shame
All at once the white stuff came
At last it’s finished it’s all over now
My first time milking a cow!

No idea who this is credited to.

And another favourite of mine…

The Play

I’m rather fond of Omar Khayyam’s and E. A. Poe’s poems.  Or, if I’m feeling like something very odd, Edward Gorey has some that make for interesting reading.  I especially like his limericks, such as:

Each night Father fills me with dread
When he sits at the foot of my bed;
I’d not mind that he speaks
In gibbers and squeaks,
But for seventeen years he’s been dead.

There’s a rather odd couple in Herts
Who are cousins (or so each asserts);
Their sex is in doubt
For they’re never without
Their mustaches and long, trailing skirts.

And they’re even illustrated!  Wheee!

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

My first’s very old, and unfortunately anonymous, so I can’t “big up” the author…

Western wind, when will thou blow
The small rain down can rain?
Christ, if my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again!

Not that America hasn’t its fair share of greats…

I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
“For beauty,“ I replied.
“And I for truth, -the two are one;
We brethren are,“ he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.
—Emily Dickinson

oh pointy bird,
  Pointy pointy,
anoint my head,
  Anoiny-nointy

-Steve Martin

This poem is usually read in productions of The Christmas Revels.

http://www.revels.org/revels_nationwide/revels_national.htm

Every time I hear it, I swear, I get chills down my spine.

The Shortest Day
Susan Cooper

And so the Shortest Day came and the year died
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the new year’s sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revelling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us - listen!
All the long echoes, sing the same delight,
This Shortest Day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And now so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.
Welcome Yule!

Not quite a poem, but whenever I go into my maths classroom the song ‘Is this the way to amarillo?‘ comes into my head. My maths teacher once did a rendition of peter kay miming it at the end of a school year. Purple suit and all.