/lit/ - Literature

One of my favourites, Still by Thomas Ligotti

>>1259232
Stereotypically it has to be "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" - Coleridge

"Lady Lazarus" by Sylvia Plath

The only time a poem has made me want to burst into tears.

>>1259311
I also cry while reading Sylvia Plath's poetry.

The Burda by Imam Busiri, in original Arabic of course.

>>1259232
Brofist for hafiz, i love hafiz!
my favourite by hafiz is:

The
Real love
I always keep a secret.
All my words
Are sung outside Her window,

For when She lets me in
I take a thousand oaths of silence.

But,
Then She says,
O, then God says,

“What the hell, Hafiz,
Why not give the whole world
My
Address.”

I don't know what my absolute favourite poem is though. I think it would be something by Rumi but theres so many to choose from!

>>1259232
>>1259313
>>1259314
Islamic poetry strong!

>>1259297

Still - Thomas Ligotti

http://vocaroo.com/?media=v0OZFFJcJ644XJOT9

The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within its nets of gold,
When all is told
We cannot beg for pardon.

Our freedom as free lances
Advances towards its end;
The earth compels, upon it
Sonnets and birds descend;
And soon, my friend,
We shall have no time for dances.

The sky was good for flying
Defying the church bells
And every evil iron
Siren and what it tells:
The earth compels,
We are dying, Egypt, dying

And not expecting pardon,
Hardened in heart anew,
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden.

>>1259311

Lady Lazarus - Sylvia Plath

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vxN2hUOfFr2Oxux89

Three Rings for Elven Kings, under the sky;
Seven for the Dwarf Lords, in their halls of stone.
Nine for the mortal men, doomed to die;
One for the Dark Lord, on his Dark Throne.
In the land of Mordor, where the Shadows lie.

>>1259297
Still.
Reprasentin' for the gangsters all across the world...
&etc;

>>1259314

Unknown - Hafiz

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vS1M02kx0bqfWo6IJ

>>1259322
Unknown by Anonymous

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vbw618gP80odf16hA

>>1259330
You could google the title and author you know. It's The Sunlight on the Garden by Louis MacNeice

>>1259311
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it----

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
0 my enemy.
Do I terrify?----

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

>>1259333
Dying
Is an art, like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart----
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash ---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

>>1259329
I liked that, since you are vocarooing these i have one request if you would be so kind.

Half caste by John Agard :D

Excuse me
standing on one leg
I'm half-caste

Explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean when picasso
mix red an green
is a half-caste canvas/
explain yuself
wha u mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean when light an shadow
mix in de sky
is a half-caste weather/
well in dat case
england weather
nearly always half-caste
in fact some o dem cloud
half-caste till dem overcast
so spiteful dem dont want de sun pass
ah rass/
explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean tchaikovsky
sit down at dah piano
an mix a black key
wid a white key
is a half-caste symphony/

Explain yuself
wha yu mean
Ah listening to yu wid de keen
half of mih ear
Ah looking at u wid de keen
half of mih eye
and when I'm introduced to yu
I'm sure you'll understand
why I offer yu half-a-hand
an when I sleep at night
I close half-a-eye
consequently when I dream
I dream half-a-dream
an when moon begin to glow
I half-caste human being
cast half-a-shadow
but yu come back tomorrow
wid de whole of yu eye
an de whole of yu ear
and de whole of yu mind

an I will tell yu
de other half
of my story

Full near I came unto where dwelleth
Layla, when I heard her call.
That voice, would I might ever hear it!
She favored me, and drew me to her,
Took me in, into her precinct,
With discourse intimate addressed me.
She sat me by her, then came closer,
Raised the cloak that hid her from me,
Made me marvel to distraction,
Bewildered me with all her beauty.
She took me and amazed me,
And hid me in her inmost self,
Until I thought that she was I,
And my life she took as ransom.
She changed me and transfigured me,
And marked me with her special sign,
Pressed me to her, put me from her,
Named me as she is named.
Having slain and crumbled me,
She steeped the fragments in her blood.
Then, after my death, she raised me:
My star shines in her firmament.
Where is my life, and where my body,
Where my willful soul? From her
The truth of these shone out to me
Secrets that had been hidden from me.
Mine eyes have never seen but her:
To naught else can they testify.
All meanings in her are comprised.
Glory be to her Creator!
Thou that beauty wouldst describe,
Here is something of her brightness
Take it from me. It is my art.
Think it not idle vanity.
My Heart lied not when it divulged
The secret of my meeting her.
If nearness unto her effaceth,
I still subsist in her substance.

Ahmad Alo-Alawi, English version by Martin Lings

>>1259336
*Ahmad Al-Alawi

>>1259341
I really like this, where can i find more?

>>1259326
Tolkien Excerpt

http://vocaroo.com/?media=v9gX3ZeTyjNN479K8

>>1259335

Half-Caste - John Agard

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vrPTTNugBtTi00C4V

(i'm really not racist or anything.... don't hit me)

>>1259336

Unknown - Ahmed al-Alawi

http://vocaroo.com/?media=v96x2OW8Xwf9zr5YI

>>1259348
I really like your performance but the accent was off, but seeing as your american, a british caribbean accent would be quite tough.

if you wanna try another accent

Unrelated incidents by Tom Leonard (scottish)

this is thi
six a clock
news thi
man said n
thi reason
a talk wia
BBC accent
iz coz yi
widny wahnt
mi ti talk
aboot thi
trooth wia
voice lik
wanna yoo
scruff. if
a toktaboot
thi trooth
lik wanna yoo
scruff yi
widny thingk
it wuz troo.
jist wanna yoo
scruff tokn.
thirza right
way ti spell
ana right way
to tok it. this
is me tokn yir
right way a
spellin. this
is ma trooth.
yooz doant no
thi trooth
yirsellz cawz
yi canny talk
right. this is
the six a clock
nyooz. belt up.

http://illadore.livejournal.com/30674.html

>>1259351
Terrible, terrible scottish accent -

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vA7th1MUVZdXPYq4I

>>1259359
Egotistical editor rant--

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vgB2zX0ms4tLA2Cvc

To the Virgins - Herrick

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vb8hCwub0OtaM1Yia

I thought to pick
the flower of forgetting
for myself,
but I found it
already growing in his heart.

- Ono no Komachi


(I normally hate jap stuff, but I really like this one).

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me
Yes! that was the reason
(as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vpBk9MsvYx7waPzOO

The Parable Of The Old Man And The Young - Wilfred Owen

>>1259361
its halfway between italian and scottish. if there was a movie about mobsters in aberdeen you would be perfect.

>>1259336
This is what the Layla song by Eric Clapton is based on isnt it?

>>1259387

Poe kicks ass. - Annabel Lee

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vs0w4v4fnB6Xv6wNk

>>1259399
Great reading, bro. I like the anger you brought to the latter passages.

No Second Troy by William Butler Yeats

WHY should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great,
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?

>>1259397
Actually it's not, its based on Layla and majnun, which is another arabic story.

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it----

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
0 my enemy.
Do I terrify?----

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

>>1259464


Dying
Is an art, like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart----
It really goes.


And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash ---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

>>1259458
wow all the arab hotties are called Layla

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vnkA8VIi32fYiLJoS

link related
(not my voice, grabbed from a previous poetry thread.)

It wouldn't be a good idea
to let him stay.
When they know each other better -
not today.
But she put on her new black knickers
Anyway.

Prelude by Wendy Cope

It wouldn't be a good idea
to let him stay.
When they know each other better -
not today.
But she put on her new black knickers
Anyway.

>>1259397
Almost certainly not. Laila is simply an Arabic female name, In Islamic poetry ("Sufi" poetry", it's usually to refer to the essence of God.

Boys Wanted

Boys of spirit, boys of will,
Boys of muscle, brain and power,
Fit to cope with anything,
These are wanted every hour.

Not the weak and whining drones,
Who all troubles magnify;
Not the watchword of “I can’t,”
But the nobler one, “I’ll try.”

Do whate’er you have to do
With a true and earnest zeal;
Bend your sinews to the taswk,
“Put your shoulders to the wheel.”

Though your duty may be hard,
Look not on it as an ill;
If it be an honest task,
Do it with an honest will.

In the workshop, on the farm,
At the desk, where’er you be,
From your future efforts, boys,
Comes a nation’s destiny.

>>1259466
>>1259464
>mfw someone else posts Lady Lazarus

Man-Moth Excerpt - Elizabeth Bishop

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vD7tKweuCRAGCJY9I

(Doesn't totally suck!)

The Gashleycrumb Tinies - Edward Gorey

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vED97Ary8B1UK8zvk

Not exactly serious, but fun

Rappelle-toi Barbara
Il pleuvait sans cesse sur Brest ce jour-là
Et tu marchais souriante
Épanouie ravie ruisselante
Sous la pluie
Rappelle-toi Barbara
Il pleuvait sans cesse sur Brest
Et je t'ai croisée rue de Siam
Tu souriais
Et moi je souriais de même
Rappelle-toi Barbara
Toi que je ne connaissais pas
Toi qui ne me connaissais pas
Rappelle-toi
Rappelle-toi quand même jour-là
N'oublie pas
Un homme sous un porche s'abritait
Et il a crié ton nom
Barbara
Et tu as couru vers lui sous la pluie
Ruisselante ravie épanouie
Et tu t'es jetée dans ses bras
Rappelle-toi cela Barbara
Et ne m'en veux pas si je te tutoie
Je dis tu à tous ceux que j'aime
Même si je ne les ai vus qu'une seule fois
Je dis tu à tous ceux qui s'aiment
Même si je ne les connais pas
Rappelle-toi Barbara
N'oublie pas
Cette pluie sage et heureuse
Sur ton visage heureux
Sur cette ville heureuse
Cette pluie sur la mer
Sur l'arsenal
Sur le bateau d'Ouessant
Oh Barbara
Quelle connerie la guerre
Qu'es-tu devenue maintenant
Sous cette pluie de fer
De feu d'acier de sang
Et celui qui te serrait dans ses bras
Amoureusement
Est-il mort disparu ou bien encore vivant
Oh Barbara
Il pleut sans cesse sur Brest
Comme il pleuvait avant
Mais ce n'est plus pareil et tout est abimé
C'est une pluie de deuil terrible et désolée
Ce n'est même plus l'orage
De fer d'acier de sang
Tout simplement des nuages
Qui crèvent comme des chiens
Des chiens qui disparaissent
Au fil de l'eau sur Brest
Et vont pourrir au loin
Au loin très loin de Brest
Dont il ne reste rien.

Thanks Stoferin! I just listen to all your readings. You're very talented.

Autobiography, 1952 by Yehuda Amichai

My father built over me a worry big as a shipyard
and I left it once, before I was finished
and he remained there with his big, empty worry
and my mother was like a tree on the shore
between her arms that stretched out toward me

And in ’31 my hands were joyous and small
and in ’41 they learned to use a gun
and when I first fell in love
my thoughts were like a bunch of colored balloons
and the girl’s white hand held them all
by a thin string- then let them fly away

And in ’51 the motion of my life
was like the motion of many slaves chained to a ship
and my father’s face like the headlight on the front of a tram
growing smaller and smaller in the distance
and my mother closed all the many clouds inside her brown closet
and as I walked up my street
the twentieth century was the blood in my veins

blood that wanted to get our in many wars
and through many openings
that’s why it knocks against my head from the inside
and reached my heart in angry waves


but now, in the spring of ’52, I see
that more birds have returned than left last winter
and I walk back down the hill to my house
and in my room the woman, whose body is heavy
and filled with time

Where the sidewalk ends.

>>1261037

Appreciate the compliment, man. Karaoke sucked hard tonight, lol. It's important to be in the right key sometimes...

>>1261044
Autobiography, 1952 by Yehuda Amichai

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vwXbvswLU99FEfPmA

>>1261068
Where the Sidewalk Ends - Shel Silverstien

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vBogfZIsUwXx2kqYA

>>1259232


Either Kubla Kahn, or Endymion, or "I stood tip-toe on a a little hill" huge John Keats FYI

It keeps eternal whisperings around
Desolute shores, and with its mighty swell
Gluts twice then thousand caverns, till the spell
Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.
Often 'tis in such gentle temper found,
That scarcely will the very smallest shell
Be moved for days from where it sometime fell,
When last the winds of heaven were unbound.
Oh ye! who have your eye-balls vexed and tired,
Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea;
Oh ye! whose ears are dinn'd with uproar rude,
Or fed too much with cloying melody,--
Sit ye near some old cavern's mouth, and brood
Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quired!

>John Keats - On The Sea

>>1261188
John Keats - On the Sea

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vqAIpbb9VgB8oD05Q

http://www.davidmcwane.com/books/the-gypsy-mile/a-man-throwing-a-coin-in-the-ocean/

>First poem in the link

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out --
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out --
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out --
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me -- and there was no one left to speak for me.

I really like this one by Jimmy Stewart:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qUNJjIwlHk8

It's sad as snakesnot...
;__;

Edward Henry Whinfield's interpretation of the Rubbaiyat of Omar Khayyam

When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least.
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

A Day Dream by Coleridge.

'O ever -- ever be thou blest!
For dearly, Asra! love I thee!
This brooding warmth across my breast,
This depth of tranquil bliss -- ah, me!'

My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.

alone by poe

Anything by Keats. That is all.

Alexander Pushkin's 'Eugene Onegin', the whole thing. What I wouldn't give to be able to read it in the original Russian.

If I caress a young child,
Immediately I think: farewell!
I will yield my place to you,
For I must fade while your flower blooms.

Dulce et decorum est by Wilfred Owen.

The Divine Comedy by Dante.

'Before me nothing but eternal things were made,
And I endure eternally.
Abandon every hope, ye who enter here.'

I'm surprised one of you Yanks hasn't mentioned O Captain! My Captain! yet.

'But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.'

the motherfucking jabberwocky...

>>1261391
"Abandon every hope, ye who enter here"
I want a doormat with this on.

As for my favourite poem, I don't really know many apart from what I did in school. So perhaps At Castle Boterel by Thomas Hardy.

As I drive to the junction of lane and highway,
And the drizzle bedrenches the waggonette,
I look behind at the fading byway,
And see on its slope, now glistening wet,
Distinctly yet

Myself and a girlish form benighted
In dry March weather. We climb the road
Beside a chaise. We had just alighted
To ease the sturdy pony’s load
When he sighed and slowed.

What we did as we climbed, and what we talked of
Matters not much, nor to what it led,—
Something that life will not be balked of
Without rude reason till hope is dead,
And feeling fled.

It filled but a minute. But was there ever
A time of such quality, since or before,
In that hill’s story? To one mind never,
Though it has been climbed, foot-swift, foot-sore,
By thousands more.

Primaeval rocks form the road’s steep border,
And much have they faced there, first and last,
Of the transitory in Earth’s long order;
But what they record in colour and cast
Is—that we two passed.

And to me, though Time’s unflinching rigour,
In mindless rote, has ruled from sight
The substance now, one phantom figure
Remains on the slope, as when that night
Saw us alight.

I look and see it there, shrinking, shrinking,
I look back at it amid the rain
For the very last time; for my sand is sinking,
And I shall traverse old love’s domain
Never again.

"Alone with Everybody" - Bukowski

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much

and nobody finds the
one
but the keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.

flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills

I've oft been told by learned friars,
That wishing and the crime are one,
And Heaven punishes desires
As much as if the deed were done.
If wishing damns us, you and I
Are damned to all our heart's content;
Come then, at least we may enjoy
Some pleasure for our punishment!

The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the A gaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

>>1261443
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

- Matthew Arnold, "Dover Beach"

>>1261204
I'm enjoying your readings, man. I'd do my own, but have a cold.

>>1261391
Sadly the english translations of Dante's Comedy will never come close to capture the sheer beauty of its metrics in the original language.

Anyway here is an extract from a favourite of mine,

The Garden of Proserpine by Swinburne

From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no life lives for ever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Then star nor sun shall waken,
Nor any change of light:
Nor sound of waters shaken,
Nor any sound or sight:
Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,
Nor days nor things diurnal;
Only the sleep eternal
In an eternal night.

>>1261322

First they came --

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vfdKjMkTBNYb8hrIB

>>1261310
A man throwing a coin into the ocean - David McWane

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vU7daPZCTTBvH7bIz

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

ee cummings

probably rime of the ancient mariner by samuel taylor coleridge

>>1261379

Trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries....

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vPW6wnLBdSH17cPXX

>>1261395

Jabberwocky (Had that one ready!)

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vo7t27CiZHBpnZyYc

>>1261433
At Castle Boterel by Thomas Hardy.

http://vocaroo.com/?media=v8pxvwSZeNuMk7sKn

>>1261440
Alone with everybody - Bukowski

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vsUAFJJcUXqTgYF9F

>>1261442

Damned wishing - If your eye offendeth thee...

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vrFP7QeasruIDd4cN

>>1261443

Sophocles and the Agean Sea.

http://vocaroo.com/?media=v5rytYBlC3u7ZGylT

>>1261445
Dover Beach - Matthew Arnold

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vukHcg8e3MHBtvwf6

Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock

>>1261475
The Garden of Prosperin - Swinburne

http://vocaroo.com/?media=v4FndoZXgmR0RKcVX

13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird by Wallace Stevens.

By no small margin is this my favorite.

>>1261853
anyone lived in a pretty how town

http://vocaroo.com/?media=v8zhONK0Rsaz98ydn

And I'm bushed. I'll be back tomorrow night, starting with >>1263543 and maybe >>1262771

Ozymandias, Shelly's

Stephen Crane - “In the Desert”

http://danielbenoit.blog.com/2009/05/20/analysis-of-stephen-cranes-in-the-desert/

there once was a man from Nantucket...

>>1263731
And the stories about him have been greatly exaggerated.

>>1263692
Record Ozymandias? I DID IT FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vn3SKpWEvIKUG0oVE

>>1263731
Hide yo kids, hide yo wife. They be rapin peoples ears up in here

http://vocaroo.com/?media=v6u6zkPdWWAqBUcyH

>>1263696
In the Desert - Stephen Crane

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vR1DrTZXCUdXquCgs

>>1263543
13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird by Wallace Stevens

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vlJbG0dLydA2PLEiE

Also: Starlings are fucking awesome. (Jump to :40)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8vhE8ScWe7w

"Renasence" by Edna St. Vincent Millay. It's just phenomenal. The middle section never fails to bring me to tears.

All of the Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters, especially "Julia Miller."

WTB sonorous voices.