Memorized Poems/Lines

[Anonymous No.12124629]

What poems or lines have you memorized?

What are you working on?

Tips?

[Anonymous No.12124646]

My heart in hiding, stirred for a bird - the achieve of, the mastery of the thing.


I am working on a assignment for a summer unit of philosophy of religion.

[Anonymous No.12124653]

>>12124629
Look at your body,
At painted puppet, a poor toy
Of jointed parts ready to collapse
A diseased and suffering thing,
With a head full of false imaginings

[Anonymous No.12124655]

Alone I stare into the frost’s white face.
It’s going nowhere, and I—from nowhere.
Everything ironed flat, pleated without a wrinkle:
Miraculous, the breathing plain.

Meanwhile the sun squints at this starched poverty—
The squint itself consoled, at ease . . .
The ten-fold forest almost the same . . .
And snow crunches in the eyes, innocent, like clean bread.

[Anonymous No.12124664]

>>12124629
Out of the night that covers me
Black as the pit from pole to pole
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud
Through the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloodied but unbowed

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade
Yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid

It matters not how strait the gate
How charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate
The captain of my soul

Something like that

[Anonymous No.12124675]

memorized the first few stanzas of Völuspá a few years back, was going to learn all the stanzas but then I lost interest.
What methods do you use when memorizing poetry?

[Anonymous No.12124690]

>>12124675
I look at it once and just remember it. Why make it complicated?

[Anonymous No.12124691]

>>12124675
Neat. In Icelandic or in (English) ?

Personally, I imagine the poem in vivid imagery. It makes for a more sublime experience

[Anonymous No.12124700]

mostly stuff left over from school - kipling, tilton, auden, frost. a lot from paradise lost. i have an okay memory, so certain stanzas seem to stick for me

memorization seems to go more smoothly if i first hear the poem recited aloud, then recite it myself, then finally listen to my own recitation on a recording

[Anonymous No.12124703]

May I for my own truths self, songs truth reckon
How many dawns chill from his ripling rest
Journeys jargon, how i in harsh days
The seagulls wings shall dip and pivot him

And hardship across the harbor
Chill its chains are
The whips and scorns of time

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
Towards the noel, that mort saison
And the across the harbor

The sovereign sky
As though the sun took step of thee

Mere weary mood lest a man know naught
We are the hollow men, we are the stuffed men
The law's delay, the insolence of office
That he on dry land loveliest liveth

[Anonymous No.12124710]

>>12124700
yikes, easy on the fluoride

[Anonymous No.12124713]

>>12124675
I recite it aloud while pacing in my room like a lunatic.

Usually, I can memorise fairly lengthy passages pretty quickly, so it seems effective.

[Anonymous No.12124716]

Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold
Her early leaf's a flower
But only so an hour
As leaf subsides to leaf
So Eden sank to grief
As dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.

It's nice, but nothing particularly impressive.
Also this "One Bright Day" poem that my mother taught me when I was like, 4.

[Anonymous No.12124720]

>>12124629
When, long ago, the gods created Earth
In Jove's fair image Man was shaped at birth.
The beasts for lesser parts were next designed;
Yet were they too remote from humankind.
To fill the gap, and join the rest to Man,
Th'Olympian host conceiv'd a clever plan.
A beast they wrought, in semi-human figure,
Filled it with vice, and called the thing a Nigger.
- H.P. Lovecraft

[Anonymous No.12124722]

Yo onions un sueño un imposible
Vano fantasma de niebla y luz
Onions incorpórea onions intangible
No puedo amarte
O ven, ven tú

[Anonymous No.12124734]

>>12124722
S-oy not onions fucking filter

[Anonymous No.12124776]

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 possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self 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.

[Anonymous No.12124858]

>No arriesgue el mármol temerario
>gárrulas transgresiones al todopoder del olvido,
>enumerando con prolijidadel nombre,
>la opinión, los acontecimientos, la patria.
And I can't remember the other part

[Anonymous No.12124867]

>>12124629
>Tips
Repetition and let it sink into your heart. Remember people used to memorise from oral tradition, so listen a lot

[Anonymous No.12124909]

Just recite it, it's not rocket science.

[Anonymous No.12124987]

>>12124629
Usually when I smoke a cig or a baccy come one or two lines from a poem just spontaneously come to me and get repeated by my inner monologue

I can't be the only one

[Anonymous No.12124996]

>>12124710
i passed fluoride a long time ago. nowadays i just need a bottle of vodka to suck on plus a domestic animal to fuck and i'm home free

[Anonymous No.12125007]

She should have died here after.
There would havw been time for such a word,
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death.
Out, out, brief candle!
Life is but a walking shadow,
a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.
It is a tale told by an idiot,
full of sound and fury signifying nothing.

[Anonymous No.12125025]

Young nigga with the anna
Walking with the hammer
Talking country grammar
Nigga
Straight out north Atlanta

[Anonymous No.12125639]

>>12124776
Author?

[Anonymous No.12125646]

Don't just recite, it's how plebs memorize. Use mnemonics instead, it's a trillion times more efficient.

[Anonymous No.12125665]

What is your substance, whereof are you made,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend?
Since every one hath, every one, one shade
And you but one, can every shadow lend.
Describe Adonis and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you
On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set
And you in Grecian tires are painted new
Speak of the spring and foison of the year
The one doth shadow of your beauty show;
The other as you bounty doth appear,
And you, in every blessed shape we know.
In all external grace you have some part,
But you like none, none you, for constant heart

[Anonymous No.12125676]

Frumoaso,
ți-s ochii așa de negri încât seara
când stau culcat cu capu-n poala ta
îmi pare
că ochii tăi adânci sunt izvorul
din care tainic curge noaptea peste văi
și peste munți, și peste șesuri
Așa-s de negri ochii tăi,
lumina mea.

[Anonymous No.12125687]

>tfw I still remember the poem I learned to recite when I was about 13/14 for school.
The rhythm makes it easy (Tarentella by Hilaire Belloc). It's almost like a song.

[Anonymous No.12125694]

Only one. Alone With Everybody by Bukowski

Alone With Everybody
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 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..

[Anonymous No.12125696]

mark but this flea and mark in this
how little which thou deniest me is.
it sucked me first and now sucks thee
and in this flea, our two bloods mingled be.
thou knowest that this cannot be said a sin,
a shame, or loss of Maidenhead
yet this enjoys before it woo
and pampered swells with one blood made of two
and this alas, is more than we would do

O stay three lives in one flea spare
where we are almost yea, more than married are.
this flea is you and I, and this
our marriage bed and temple is
though parents grudge, and you we're met
and cloistered in these living walls of jet
though use make you apt to kill me,
let not to that self murder added be
and sacrilege, three sins in killing three.

cruel and sudden, has thou since
purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
wherein could this flea guilty be
except in that drop which it sucked from thee?
but thou trimuphst, and sayst that thou
finds not thyself nor I the weaker now;
tis true, then learn how false fears be,
just so much honor when thou yieldst to me,
will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee

[Anonymous No.12125698]

>>12124629
One sunny day in the middle of the night
Two dead boys got up to fight
Back to back the faced each other
Drew their swords and shot each other
The deaf policeman heard the noise
And saved the lives of the two dead boys
If you don't believe me - it's true
Ask the blind man, he saw it too

[Anonymous No.12125703]

>>12125665
nice anon, reminded me of Donne, though that might just be because of the archaic language.

>Since every one hath, every one, one shade
And you but one, can every shadow lend.
does this just mean everyone has one shadow? the 'can every shadow lend' bit is the only bit that confuses me.

[Anonymous No.12125710]

Just one line, I don't memorize poetry.

And God looked down, and saw that he had made many poets;
But not so very much poetry.

[Anonymous No.12125712]

>>12125703
I think it's just a platonic thing. Beauty in any object finds it form in the addressee of the poem so that every beautiful thing is a shadow of their beauty. The platonic shadow conceit was a favourite amongst Renaissance poets.

[Anonymous No.12125716]

>>12124629
I've memorized the to be or not to be and rogue and peasant slave soliloquies from Hamlet

[Anonymous No.12125725]

>>12125639
The bard

[Anonymous No.12126120]

Can someone recommend some poems/poets with a particularly great sense of rhythm?

[Anonymous No.12126142]

La marée je l'ai dans le coeur
Qui me remonte comme un signe
Je meurs de ma petite soeur, de mon enfance et de mon cygne
Un bateau ça dépend comment
On l'arrime au port de justesse
Il pleure de mon firmament
Des années lumières et j'en laisse
Je suis le fantôme Jersey
Celui qui vient les soirs de frime
Te lancer la brume en baiser
Et te ramasser dans ses rimes
Comme le trémail de juillet
Où luisait le loup solitaire
Celui que je voyais briller
Aux doigts du sable de la terre

Rappelle-toi ce chien de mer
Que nous libérions sur parole
Et qui gueule dans le désert
Des goémons de nécropole
Je suis sûr que la vie est là
Avec ses poumons de flanelle
Quand il pleure de ces temps-là
Le froid tout gris qui nous appelle
Je me souviens des soirs là-bas
Et des sprints gagnés sur l'écume
Cette bave des chevaux ras
Au ras des rocs qui se consument
Ô l'ange des plaisirs perdus
Ô rumeurs d'une autre habitude
Mes désirs dès lors ne sont plus
Qu'un chagrin de ma solitude

Et le diable des soirs conquis
Avec ses pâleurs de rescousse
Et le squale des paradis
Dans le matin mouillé de mousse
Reviens fille verte des fjords
Reviens violon des violonades
Dans le port fanfare les cors
Pour le retour des camarades

Ô parfum rare des salants
Dans le poivre feu des gerçures
Quand j'allais géométrisant,
Mon âme au creux de ta blessure
Dans le désordre de ton cul
Poissé dans des draps d'aube fine
Je voyais un vitrail de plus,
Et toi fille verte, mon spleen

Les coquillages figurant
Sous les sunlights, cassés, liquides
Jouent de la castagnette tant
Qu'on dirait l'Espagne livide
Dieux des granits, ayez pitié
De leur vocation de parure
Quand le couteau vient s'immiscer
Dans leur castagnette figure
Et je voyais ce qu'on pressent
Quand on pressent l'entrevoyure
Entre les persiennes du sang
Et que les globules figurent
Une mathématique bleue,
Dans cette mer jamais étale
D'où me remonte peu à peu
Cette mémoire des étoiles

Cette rumeur qui vient de là
Sous l'arc copain où je m'aveugle
Ces mains qui me font du flafla
Ces mains ruminantes qui meuglent
Cette rumeur me suit longtemps
Comme un mendiant sous l'anathème
Comme l'ombre qui perd son temps
À dessiner mon théorème
Et sur mon maquillage roux
S'en vient battre comme une porte
Cette rumeur qui va debout
Dans la rue aux musiques mortes
C'est fini, la mer, c'est fini
Sur la plage, le sable bêle
Comme des moutons d'infini
Quand la mer bergère m'appelle

[Anonymous No.12126214]

>>12124691
Icelandic

[Anonymous No.12126998]

[for we are like tree trunks in the ground
in appearance they lie sleekly
and a little push should set them rolling
but no it can not be done for they are deeply rooted in the ground
but see, even that is only appearance]
franz kafka circa ww2

[Anonymous No.12127054]

Reunited, double LP, world excited
Struck a match to the underground, industry ignited
From metaphorical parables to fertilize the Earth
Wicked niggas come, try to burglarize the turf
Scattin' off soft-ass beats them niggas rap happily
Tragically, that style, deter-iate, rapidly
Uncompleted missions, throwin' your best known compositions
You couldn't add it up, if you mastered addition
Where I come from, gettin' visual is habitual
De-mon-strate walkin' on hot coal, in rituals
I splash the paint on the wall, it formed the mural
He took a look, saw the manifestation of it, was plural
Rhymin' while impaired, dart hit your garment
Pierced your internal, streamlined compartments
Just consider the unparallelled advantage
Of a natural disaster that's impossible to manage