Poetry Meme

[madshutterbug]

When you see this entry, post your favourite poem (or an excerpt) in your own journal.


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.

Dylan Thomas, 1951



In Coming Home

There, a place and time Dragons
spat fire and brimstone, There
Dragonflies flit and plucked
the torn and crisped from the field and
bore them to my station, There
My charge, put Humpty together again.
And when would feel the
slap slap slap
slap slap
of their whirling wings upon my
Face and shoulders would, rising, cry
Incoming.

"It's true," said Gunny,
stretched prone with bandaged,
bleeding Pride,
"You don't hear the one that gets you.
What hurts most? I
didn't dive
When someone cried
Incoming."

Here, that place and time
is gone a score and more of years, yet
My charge remains.
And when in Mayhem's midst
She turns to clear the field with
toss of sanguinous sponge, seeing
Me too near, cries
Incoming.

(c) 2001