Which is your favourite poem and why?

A late entry, just read it -

Galway Kinnell

www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42680/after-making-love-we-hear-footsteps

Absolutely anything by Thomas Hardy, especially: 'The Going'...sad,as you can feel his grief!

Poetry of Thomas Hardy was on the IGCSE Literature syllabus 4 years ago. By the time we had read the 12th poem, the class loathed him.

Currently, a poem I've shared many times, is the Max Boyce poem for our time "when just the tide went out"

Mamardoit

I've just found the Max Boyce poem on YouTube. It was written about the first lock down so worth a listen.

Gosh, Mamardoit. What a lovely poem. I'd forgotten all about Max Boyce. My Welsh friends were always quoting him when I was at university. Haven't heard anything by him for over 40 years.

May7 Sat 09-Jan-21 21:45:43

Ae Fond Kiss
BY ROBERT BURNS

Now you've done it! Gone and made me cry.

0wlfred

'Death be not proud' by John Donne; helps me keep a sense of perspective. I am also very fond of Kipling's 'If' except for the last line (You'll be a man, my son).

What's wrong with the last line? Isn't the poem all about growing up and what qualities are needed to be an adult in a difficult world?

I like to bit about walking with kings and not losing the common touch. John Saxbee, Bishop of Lincoln springs to mind.

The poem 'Bus to School' randomly popped in my memory. I searched for it but the verse I remembered seems to be omitted although I found part of it. "Yes! but it's Thursday the day of fear Three hateful lessons and School draws near"
Apparently it's from a collection of poems written by James Aitchison...
Rounding a corner
It comes to a stay.
Quick. Grab the rail!
Now we’re off on our way …
Here in the bus though
There’s plenty to see:
Boys full of talk about
Last night’s T.V.
Girls with their violins,
Armfuls of twigs
And flowers for the teacher.
Bartlett and Biggs
Conductor who chats with them,
Jokes about cricket;
Machine that flicks out
A white ribbon of ticket …
Conductor now waiting,
Firm as a rock,
For Billy, whose penny’s
Slid down his sock,
Conductor frowning,
With finger on handle:
Poor Billy blushes,
Undoes his sandal …
Hold very tight, please!
Any more fares?’
Whistling conductor
Goes clumping upstairs …
Boots up above, now!
Boys coming down! …
Over the hump bridge
And into the town.