I like Poe's "The Raven" .... I enjoy the expression that can be used while reading it aloud .. +5

Tame Cat

It rests me to be among beautiful women
Why should one always lie about such matters?
I repeat:
It rests me to converse with beautiful women
Even though we talk nothing but nonsense,

The purring of the invisible antennae
Is both stimulating and delightful.

Ezra Pound


Just ONE of my favorite poems. It's a guy poem that I feel really hits the mark.

+5

I love the Poison Tree, and The Garden Of Love - both by William Blake. I also love The Naming Of Cats, by TS Eliot, and a poem about cats by HP Lovecraft (I have a feeling it's just called The Cats, or something really obvious that's escaping my memory!). All of them just have a rhythm which feels really natural, and they have dark undertones.

This one:-


How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
_____

It is my favourite because I think the words are beautiful. Elizabeth B Browning must certainly have had great feelings to have written such a passionate poem.

I cannot possibly say that I have a "favourite" poem.
Or poet.
My mood, the affairs of the hour, nuances of light and shade, recent interactions with humans, beasts, or the world, all colour my preferences at any given moment.
But Keats, Houseman, and Blake are high in my list.

...a world in a grain of sand,
.......
Eternity in an hour

Splendour in the Grass William wordsworth

What though the radiance
which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass,
of glory in the flower,
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind
- it says a lot simply