Have you memorized any poems?

I did memorise one for school, which I've forgotten (it wasn't any good). My two favourite poems are both called The Raven - one by Edgar Allan Poe, too long for me to memorise, and the other by Samuel Taylor Coleridge - a reasonable length, I just haven't been interested in memorising it. I might in future though. It's about 45 lines so I won't put it here.

edgar allen poe's "a dream within a dream" and other poe poems
also one by adrienne rich

Yeah. And it's weird how they persist. I can still remember parts of poems I memorized in second and third grade.

I did Shel Silverstein's "Peanut Butter Sandwich" for school once.

we stood by a pond that winters day and the sun was white, as though chidden of God
and a few leaves lay on the starving sod they had fallen from an ash, and were gray

Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove over tedious riddles of years ago
and some words passsed between us to and fro
on which lost the more by our love

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing
alive enough to have strength to die
and a grin of bitterness swept thereby
like an ominous bird awing

since then keen lessons that love deceives and wrings with wrong,
have shaped to me your face and the God-cursed sun and a tree
and a pond edged with grayish leaves.

My absolute favorite poem of all time by my absolute favorite poet.
Neutral Tones
By Thomas Hardy

The art of losing isn't hard to master
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! My last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look (Write it!) like disaster.

One Art by Elizabeth Bishop

here i sit
all broken hearted
had to crap
and only farted

-author unknown

lol

I often have trouble remembering things I'd like to remember (hence I checked the "Yes, but I've forgotten them" box), but for some reason I still remember words to songs from the 80's that I'd just as soon forget. I feel like I have a lot of wasted disk space in my head.

Do song lyrics count? If so, I've memorized at least 50.

I'm not really into poetry. Most of it is too abstract for me and I don't enjoy it. I guess I'm an oddball! But Shel Silverstein, now that's some poetry I do enjoy, fooyun!

I think we had to memorize poetry in 7th or 8th grade ... but I've forgotten most of it. I still remember a little bit of Jabberwocky, which was made up of nonsense words but I kind of liked it.

tons of music lyrics [a form of poetry], many other poems forgotten, a few could be dragged out, i suppose

It's not all nonsense Lizabeth, though the spell-checker had a field day with it :) I know a fair bit of it but certainly can't reliably recite it.

Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

I used to have Annabel Lee, The Raven, and The Walrus and the Carpenter memorized.

Oh, you guys made me remember that I used to have "Sick" by Shel Silverstien memorized.

supplicant: And to think, I once knew the whole thing! Thanks for posting it. (I would have given up on the spell checker. )

Was Lewis Carroll on LSD, or what?!

The Walrus and the Carpenter is great. I guess I like more poetry than I thought I did.

I love The Owl and the Pussycat...so romantically whimsical. I am actually a poetry fiend. Poe, Hardy, Millay, Teasdale. I found them all a great comfort to me during a time in my life when I was very lonely and empty. To know those were not emotions uncommon to all men and women helped me feel less alone and gave me hope. There is a line from a Thomas Hardy poem/lyric called Let Me Enjoy(minor key) that goes:

From manuscripts of moving song
Inspired by scenes and dreams unknown,
I'll pour out raptures that belong
to others as they were my own.

This is how I feel about all the poetry and songs that I herald as my favorites. Like OMIGOD I feel that, I have felt that or Damn...they said that better than I ever could have. Then I grab the phrase,poem, line,lyric or work and hold it close forever.

Ok, I just found one online that I remember fondly from childhood... No, I don't have it memorized.. but my grandma used to read it to me.

Grandpa dropped his glasses,
Once in a pot of dye.
And when he put them on again,
He saw a purple sky.
Purple birds were rising up,
From a purple hill.
Men were grinding purple cider,
At a purple mill.
Purple Adeline was playing,
With a purple doll.
Little purple dragonflies,
Were crawling up the wall.
And at the supper table,
He got crazy as a loon,
From eating purple apple
Dumplings with a purple spoon.

Just one more childhood favorite... then I'm done!

"Eletelephony"
By Laura E. Richards

Once there was an elephant,
Who tried to use the telephant-
No! no! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone-
(Dear me! I am not certain quite
That even now I've got it right.)

Howe'er it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk:
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee-
(I fear I'd better drop the song
Of elephop and telephong!)

While I was searching for a poem, I found out that Shel Silverstein died on May 10th of this year... How ironic is it that I was looking for this poem?

Oh no, he did? Now I've lost a literary hero... :(

The one about eating plums by William Carlos Williams is good too.

"This Is Just To Say"
by William Carlos Williams - 1934

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold.

That last reminds me of Judith Viorst's poem, Thank You Note:

I asked for earrings (gold).
You gave me slippers (gray).
My mother said that she would scold
Unless I wrote to say
How much I liked them.


Not much.

(this isn't from memory, but out of a book, but I wanted to share...)

Hug O' War
By Shel Silverstein

I will not play a tug o' war.
I'd rather play at hug o' war.
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs,
Where everyone giggles
And Rolls on the rug,
Where everyone kisses,
And everyone grins,
And everyone cuddles,
And everyone wins.

Comment
by Dorothy Parker

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Roumania.

HUG O' WAR! That's my daughters fave Shel Siverstein poem...

SueBee: there are rumours he was on drugs (I guess opium would have been the fashion at the time?), but I think like a lot of other things in his life people aren't sure... I could easily be wrong on that though.

Well, I had put the first stanza of "Jabberwocky" (which the spell-checker loved), but I see it's been done, so I'm replacing it with this:

I'll tell thee everything I can
There's little to relate
I saw an aged, aged man
A-sitting on a gate.
"Who are you, aged man?" I said
"And how is it you live?"
And his answer trickled through my head
Like water through a sieve.

It goes on from there, and gets much stranger, though not as strange as Jabberwocky. I would tell you what it's called, but that turns out not to be so easy...

The White Knight's Song, also by Lewis Carrol.

Actually, I was referring to the long discussion between Alice and the White Knight regarding the proper appellation of the verse:

"It's long," said the Knight, "but it's very, very beautiful. Everybody that hears me sing it--either it brings the tears into their eyes, or else--"
"Or else what?" said Alice, for the Knight had made a sudden pause.
"Or else it doesn't, you know. The name of the song is called 'Haddock's Eyes.' "
"Oh, that's the name of the song, is it?" Alice said, trying to feel interested.
"No, you don't understand," the Knight said, looking a little vexed. "That's what the name is called. The name really is 'The Aged, Aged Man.' "
"Then I ought to have said 'That's what the song is called'?" Alice corrected herself.
"No, you oughtn't: that's quite another thing! The song is called 'Ways and Means': but that's only what it's called, you know!"
"Well, what is the song, then?" said Alice, who was by this time completely bewildered.
"I was coming to that," the Knight said. "The song really is 'A-sitting On A Gate': and the tune's my own invention."

No, I did not memorize the conversation, though perhaps I should...

Oh, right. Duh. :) I should have remembered that, after being immersed in Alice for Romkey's party a few months ago.

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were--I have not seen
As others saw--I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I lov'd, I lov'd alone.

– Edgar Allen Poe

Mostly psalms, but a few others. I've recently been told that it is very popular in Russia to be able to quote all of Pushkin's Eugene Onegin ... maybe I'll take that up.

I memorized The Raven By Edgar Allen Poe My favorite poem!

POEMS OF LATER LIFE

THE RAVEN

By Edgar Allan Poe

ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered,
weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there
came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping - rapping at my
chamber door.

" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my
chamber door-

Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished - the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore

Nameless here for evermore.


And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -

This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger.; hesitating then no longer,

"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping - tapping at my chamber door

That I scarce was sure I heard you" - here I opened wide the door:

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,


And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon I heard again a tapping, somewhat louder than before.

"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore

Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore;

'Tis the wind and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.


Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;

For we can not help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered


Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."

Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore

Till the dirges of his Hope the melancholy burden bore

Of - 'Never - nevermore.'

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking "Nevermore."


This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, me thought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted


On this home by Horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore

Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!"

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting -

"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken ! - quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."


And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted - nevermore!



Published 1845

I thought this poem was too long to put here, but it's only a third of the length of that (not including excessive blank lines :P) so I might as well go ahead :)

(people who have read The Diamond Age may be wondering why it looks familiar - it was included in the Young Ladies Illustrated Primer at one point).

The Raven
A Christmas Tale, Told By A School-Boy To
His Little Brothers And Sisters
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1798)

Underneath an old oak tree
There was of swine a huge company
That grunted as they crunched the mast:
For that was ripe, and fell full fast.
Then they trotted away, for the wind grew high:
One acorn they left, and no more might you spy.
Next came a Raven, that liked not such folly:
He belonged, they did say, to the witch Melancholy!
Blacker was he than blackest jet,
Flew low in the rain, and his feathers not wet.
He picked up the acorn and buried it straight
By the side of a river both deep and great.
   Where then did the Raven go?
   He went high and low,
Over hill, over dale, did the black Raven go.
   Many Autumns, many Springs
   Travelled he with wandering wings:
   Many summers, many Winters-
   I can't tell half his adventures.
At length he came back, and with him a She
And the acorn was grown to a tall oak tree.
They built them a nest in the topmost bough,
And young ones they had, and were happy enow.

But soon came a Woodman in leathern guise,
His brow, like a pent-house, hung over his eyes.
He'd an axe in his hand, not a word he spoke,
But with many a hem! and a sturdy stroke,
At length he brought down the poor Raven's own oak.
His young ones were killed; for they could not depart,
And their mother did die of a broken heart.

The boughs from the trunk the Woodman did sever;
And they floated it down on the course of the river.
They sawed it in planks, and its bark they did strip,
And with this tree and others they made a good ship.
The ship, it was launched; but in sight of the land
Such a storm there did rise as no ship would withstand.
It bulged on a rock, and the waves rush'd in fast;
Round and round flew the Raven, and cawed to the blast.
He heard the last shriek of the perishing souls-
See! see! o'er the topmast the mad water rolls!
   Right glad was the Raven, and off he went fleet,
And Death riding home on a cloud he did meet,
And he thank'd him again and again for this treat:
   They had taken his all, and REVENGE IT WAS SWEET!

It's not actually a poem, really; It's a silioquie that I had to memorize for school.

Gallop apace, fiery footed steeds
torwards Phoebuses lodging
such a wagoner as Phaeton would whip you to the west
and bring in cloudy night imedietly
Spread thy close curtains, love performing night
that runaways eyes may wink
and Romeo, leap to these arms, untalked of and unseen
Lovers can see to do their amourous right by their own beauties
or, if love be blind, it best agrees with night
Come civil night,
Thou sober suited matron all in black
and learn me how to lose a winning match
played for a pair of stainless maidenhoods
hood my unmanned blood
bating in my cheek
with thy black mantle till strange love grow bold
think true love, acted simple modesty
come night, come Romeo,come thou day in night
for thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
whiter than a new snow on a ravens back
come, gentle night
give me my Romeo, and when I shall die
take him and cut him out in little stars
and he will make the face of heavan so fine
that all the world will be in love with the night
and pay no worship to the garish sun
Oh, I have bought the mansion of a love
but not posessed it
and, though I am sold, not yet enjoyed
so tedious is this day
as in the night before a festival
so an impatient child who hath new robes but may not wear them

-William Shakespeare
"Romeo and Juliet"

I can't believe I still remember it!

My mom told me that if I memorized "Sick" By Shell Silverstein that I could stay home from school. She was thinking it was to long, But i memorized it and she wouldn't let me stay home =-( "I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more-that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue-
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke-
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is...Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

- Shel Silverstein
I remembered some of it but cut and pasted it for your enjoyment

They can you tell we are related or what? grandpa dropped his glasses and eletelephony are great poems here is a link to shel silverstein poems http://www.ezy.net/~quix/sidewalk.html I think this was a great survey

I can't remember who to blame for:

'Ode to a Horse which Ate one of my Poems'

I think the ones I have memorized would be classified more as limericks. The ones I truly love I remember the important part, the thought or feeling, but not word for word.

Three from my grandmother:

As I was standing in the street
As quiet as could be
A great big ugly man came up
And tied his horse to me

- Shel Silverstein


Out of the dark which covers me
Black as the pit from pole to pole
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul

It matters not how straight the gate
How charged with punishment the scroll
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul

- William E. Henley


I lost a sympathetic friend
She underwent an operation
She lived, but only to talk about
Insides in all her conversation

- Anonymous

I had to memorize a Robert Frost poem for an acting class once. I've forgotten it now.