When in mortal danger,
When beset by doubt,
Run in little circles,
Wave your arms and shout.

“In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, ‘Is it good, friend?’
‘It is bitter — bitter,’ he answered,
‘But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart.”

--Stephen Crane

My "favorite" actually changes regularly, which I suppose is common, but that poem has stuck with me.

W. B. Yeats, "The Wanderings of Oisin". St. Patrick attempts to convert the aforementioned Irish hero, the last of the legendary Fenians, to the dark... uh... to the Christian faith. The defiant ending.

Patrick. Where the flesh of the footsole clingeth on the burning stones is their place;
Where the demons whip them with wires on the burning stones of wide Hell,
Watching the blessed ones move far off, and the smile on God's face,
Between them a gateway of brass, and the howl of the angels who fell.

Oisin. Put the staff in my hands; for I go to the Fenians, O cleric, to chaunt
The war-songs that roused them of old; they will rise, making clouds with their breath,
Innumerable, singing, exultant; the clay underneath them shall pant,
And demons be broken in pieces, and trampled beneath them in death.

And demons afraid in their darkness; deep horror of eyes and of wings,
Afraid, their ears on the earth laid, shall listen and rise up and weep;
Hearing the shaking of shields and the quiver of stretched bowstrings,
Hearing Hell loud with a murmur, as shouting and mocking we sweep.

We will tear out the flaming stones, and batter the gateway of brass
And enter, and none sayeth 'No' when there enters the strongly armed guest;
Make clean as a broom cleans, and march on as oxen move over young grass;
Then feast, making converse of wars, and of old wounds, and turn to our rest.

Patrick. On the flaming stones, without refuge, the limbs of the Fenians are tost;
None war on the masters of Hell, who could break up the world in their rage;
But kneel and wear out the flags and pray for your soul that is lost
Through the demon love of its youth and its godless and passionate age.

Oisin. Ah me! to be shaken with coughing and broken with old age and pain,
Without laughter, a show unto children, alone with remembrance and fear;
All emptied of purple hours as a beggar's cloak in the rain,
As a hay-cock out on the flood, or a wolf sucked under a weir.

It were sad to gaze on the blessed and no man I loved of old there;
I throw down the chain of small stones! when life in my body has ceased,
I will go to Caoilte, and Conan, and Bran, Sceolan, Lomair,
And dwell in the house of the Fenians, be they in flames or at feast.

As far as the reasonably well-known stuff goes, these are the best:

nevermore!

sorry, i'm just not really into poetry :) I did like old chinese songs though but they were translated to czech

Edgar Alan Poe - Annabel Lee.


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 sepulchre
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 it 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 sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

light taught me to find calm in dark
dark forced me to rise up and blaze

Roses are red,
Violets are hue,

My poetry sucks,
So do you too.

The tanka poem:

Kuu ja tähdet taivahalla pilkottaa - The moon and stars twinkle in the sky
Renki tytön kanssa metsään nilkuttaa - A peasant limps into the forest with a girl
"Pusi pusi" kuuluu pian jo kuusen alta - "Kiss kiss" you soon hear below the spruce
Tytön kamppaa kohta pojan jalka - The girl soon stumbles on the boy's leg
Kuusen vieressä on vanha pinja - Next to the spruce is an old pine
Poika häippää, taisi olla ninja - The boy vanishes, probably was a ninja
Tyttö suree heti paljon Tapaniaan - The girl right away mourns a lot over her Tapani
Tapahtumat sijoittuvat tässä vanhaan Japaniaan - The events here take place in the old Japania

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pynXLpp7Wo

"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."


Invictus
by William Ernest Henley

There once was a man from Hong Kong,
Who thought limericks went on too long.

Here goes one of my favorites. It is in portuguese, but I think I made a passable attempt at an english translation. Sorry for the length of the post.

Poema pouco original do medo
de Alexandre O'neil

O medo vai ter tudo
pernas
ambulâncias
e o luxo blindado
de alguns automóveis

Vai ter olhos onde ninguém o veja
mãozinhas cautelosas
enredos quase inocentes
ouvidos não só nas paredes
mas também no chão
no teto
no murmúrio dos esgotos
e talvez até (cautela!)
ouvidos nos teus ouvidos

O medo vai ter tudo
fantasmas na ópera
sessões contínuas de espiritismo
milagres
cortejos
frases corajosas
meninas exemplares
seguras casas de penhor
maliciosas casas de passe
conferências várias
congressos muitos
ótimos empregos
poemas originais
e poemas como este

projetos altamente porcos
heróis
(o medo vai ter heróis!)
costureiras reais e irreais
operários
(assim assim)
escriturários
(muitos)
intelectuais
(o que se sabe)
a tua voz talvez
talvez a minha
com a certeza a deles

Vai ter capitais
países
suspeitas como toda a gente
muitíssimos amigos
beijos
namorados esverdeados
amantes silenciosos
ardentes
e angustiados

Ah o medo vai ter tudo
tudo
(Penso no que o medo vai ter
e tenho medo
que é justamente
o que o medo quer)

O medo vai ter tudo
quase tudo
e cada um por seu caminho
havemos todos de chegar
quase todos
a ratos

Sim, a ratos

Not very original poem of fear
by Alexandre O'Neil

Fear will have everything
legs
ambulances
and the armored luxury
of some cars

It will have eyes where nobody can see him
Cautious little hands
Almost innocent plots
Ears not only on the walls
but on the floor
on the ceiling
in the whisperings of the sewers
and maybe even (watch out!)
ears in your ears

Fear will have everything
Phantoms in the opera
Neverending spiritual sessions
miracles
parades
brave sentences
exemplar little girls
safe pawnshops
malicious whorehouses
many conferences
a lot of conventions
great jobs
original poems
and poems like this
highly dirty plans
heroes
(fear is going to have heroes!)
seamtresses, both real and unreal
factory workers
(more or less)
bookkeepers
(many)
intelectuals
(you know)
your voice, maybe
maybe mine
surely theirs

He is going to have capitals
countries
suspicions like everybody
very many friends
kisses
green-tinged boyfriends
silent lovers
burning
and anguished

Ah, fear is going to have everything
everything
(I think about what fear will have
and i fear
which is exactly
what fear wants)

Fear is going to have everything
almost everything
and, each in our own way
we will all become
mice

Yes, mice.

And Death Shall Have No Dominion
By Dylan Thomas

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan’t crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.

-----
The bolded lines were at the start of They Shall Have Stars by James Blish and when I came across it I thought it was one of the best couplets I had ever read. I still love this poem.

A little off, but good songs are good poetry.

War by Poets of the Fall

Do you remember standing on a broken field
White crippled wings beating the sky
The harbingers of war with their nature revealed
And our chances flowing by

If I can let the memory heal
I will remember you with me on that field

When I thought that I fought this war alone
You were there by my side on the frontline
When I thought that I fought without a cause
You gave me a reason to try

Turn the page I need to see something new
For now my innocence is torn
We cannot linger on this stunted view
Like rabid dogs of war

I will let the memory heal
I will remember you with me on that field

When I thought that I fought this war alone
You were there by my side on the frontline
And we fought to believe the impossible
When I thought that I fought this war alone
We were one with our destinies entwined
When I thought that I fought without a cause
You gave me the reason why

With no-one wearing their real face
It's a whiteout of emotion
And I've only got my brittle bones to break the fall

When the love in letters fade
It's like moving in slow motion
And we're already too late if we arrive at all

And then we're caught up in the arms race
An involuntary addiction
And we're shedding every value our mothers taught

So will you please show me your real face
Draw the line in the horizon
Cos I only need your name to call the reasons why I fought

When I thought that I fought this war alone...

Failing that I would fall back to The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

EDIT ::
Comes from the Covenant hand book right. :-)