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I think about this often.
I do not belong here.
This reminds me of The Four Leaved Clover
Beware that four leaved clovers can also be seen as a sign of good luck.
Dolce et Decorum est - Wilfred Owen. A grim, anti-war masterpiece written by a soldier fighting in the trenches in WW1
Ozymandias - Percy Shelley. A reminder of human transience and hubris
Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night - Dylan Thomas. Helps me to endure when things seem bleak or hopeless.
I really like all of Wlfred Owen’s work. So fucking sad. And I dont mean just the poetry but his life. When I found about him I read his biography and it made me cry a little. You probably already know this but not only did he fought and wrote his poetry in the first WW but he also died there with only 25 years. Just writing this Im starting to tear up, trully heartbreaking.
I really like the Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Coleridge. I first encountered it as a result of reading Douglas Adams’ Dirk Gently novels, but one day I saw the original in the library and just read it from start to finish. It’s fantastic, so weird, so compelling.
I also like his Kubla Khan, the imagery of the “caverns measureless to man” and the “sunless sea” have always stuck with me.
London
By William Blake
I wander thro’ each charter’d street,
Near where the charter’d Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infants cry of fear,
In every voice: in every ban,
The mind-forg’d manacles I hear
How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every blackning Church appalls,
And the hapless Soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls
But most thro’ midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlots curse
Blasts the new-born Infants tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse
Invictus by William Ernst Henley
When I was younger I clung to it’s message of perseverance. It ended up being the first poem that I ever memorized.
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. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And 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 I am the captain of my soul.Where The Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein.
Subh Milis (Sweet jam). It’s a short and powerful Irish poem reminding parents to be kind to their kids.
English translation below. Can’t seem to get the formatting correct on mobile…
Bhí subh milis ar bháscrann an doras
ach mhúch mé an corraí
ionaim a d’éirigh
mar smaoinigh mé ar an lá
a bheadh an bháscrann glan
agus an lámh beag – ar iarraidh…”
There was jam on the door handle
But I quelled the anger
That rose inside me
Because I thought of the day
That the handle would be clean
And the little hand - longed for
It’s not DNS,
There’s no way it’s DNS,
It was DNS“The Chaos”
Because English will fuck you up.
Removed by mod
“The View From Halfway Down” by Alison Tifel has always resonated with me:
The weak breeze whispers nothing
The water screams sublime
His feet shift, teeter-totter
Deep breath, stand back, it’s timeToes untouch the overpass
Soon he’s water bound
Eyes locked shut but peek to see
The view from halfway downA little wind, a summer sun
A river rich and regal
A flood of fond endorphins
Brings a calm that knows no equalYou’re flying now
You see things much more clear than from the ground
It’s all okay, it would be
Were you not now halfway downThrash to break from gravity
What now could slow the drop
All I’d give for toes to touch
The safety back at topBut this is it, the deed is done
Silence drowns the sound
Before I leaped I should’ve seen
The view from halfway downI really should’ve thought about
The view from halfway down
I wish I could’ve known about
The view from halfway downOzymandias, because it’s one of the very few I’ve read, and I liked it.
There was a young lady from Venus, Whose body was shaped like a - DATA!
-Star Trek TNG & Picard
Here I sit, same as ever. Took a dump, pulled the lever. The toilet clogged. The water flowed. Look out world, it’s a motherload!.
Why is it my favorite? I have no idea… Probably because I’m awful.
