Discussion in 'The Club House' started by estrack2, Aug 19, 2011.

  1. estrack2

    estrack2 New Member

    New to this topic, but i need some help.
    I need poems for a speech class and was hoping that you guys may have some good options. If you have any poetry, whether you wrote it or have read a good poem about any topic, it would be appreciated. Please post a poem or a link. Please include the author.
  2. fireguy

    fireguy Active Member

    I can think of this opening:

    There once was a girl from Nantucket,,,,,

    I go blank after that. And sleepy.

  3. Gojubrian

    Gojubrian New Member

    Me an' Tim a huntin' went
    met three whores in a pop-up tent.
    They were three an we were two,
    so I bucked one and timbukto!
  4. Troy Michalik

    Troy Michalik Is it Friday yet? Supporter

    I thought it was a man from Nantucket . . . :rolleyes:
  5. willshoum

    willshoum New Member


    I love guns,they make me a happy old fellow, I love guns, almost as much as a car load of horny young Nunns... I love guns.......;)
  6. Rmason2008

    Rmason2008 New Member

    Walt Whitman was a great writer. I really enjoy his poem Pioneers! O Pioneers! It was written about the Gold Rush. Your teacher will probably appreciate you selecting a Walt Whitman poem as well.
  7. canebrake

    canebrake New Member

    A Man Said to the Universe

    Stephen Crane (1871-1900) from War Is Kind (1899)

    A man said to the universe:
    "Sir I exist!"
    "However," replied the universe,
    "The fact has not created in me
    A sense of obligation."

    This Literature 101 poem in my freshman year of college changed my life.

    Stephen Crane, best known for his unromanticized Civil War novel, THE RED BADGE OF COURAGE (1895) was just twenty-one when he completed the novel. He died of tuberculosis at age 29.
  8. winds-of-change

    winds-of-change The Balota's Staff Member

    Many, MANY years ago I won a contest reciting this poem. It is a classic and I love it.

    The Man With the Hoe by Edwin Markham

    92. The Man with the Hoe by Edwin Markham. Rittenhouse, Jessie B., ed. 1917. The Little Book of Modern Verse

    This is one of my Mother's favorite poems. She used to always recite it by heart. When my Mother was very ill, I got a book of classic poems from the library I would read to her. This was one I read to her often. My Dad would get mad at me because it was about dying.........but, hey, she loved the poem and it made her happy. :D

    O Captain! My Captain! By Walt Whitman

    193. O Captain! My Captain! Whitman, Walt. 1900. Leaves of Grass
  9. fireguy

    fireguy Active Member

    You can have your fantasies, and I'll have mine. :)
  10. winds-of-change

    winds-of-change The Balota's Staff Member

    Oh, mygod. ROFL!!
  11. Troy Michalik

    Troy Michalik Is it Friday yet? Supporter

    Pssh . . . . shutup you.:mad:

  12. steve666

    steve666 New Member

    A Belch is just one gust of wind,
    That cometh from thy Heart...
    But should it take the downward trend,
    It turns into a Fart

    IGETEVEN New Member

    The rising rates of crime
    Will make people support your lie
    That taking my guns away
    Will make this world a safer place

    You'll make me register them
    So you know exactly what I have
    Locked away in my safe
    So no one can get to them

    You'll make my neighbors believe
    That I am the enemy
    That because I am a gun owner
    I'm out for the blood of everyone

    You'll strip away my freedoms
    My right to bare arms in defense
    So that when you come busting through my door
    I've got nothing with which to protect

    My family, my property, all that we are
    Will be vulnerable to you in the uniforms
    But I pity the day when you need my help
    And I have nothing to offer but to say

    I stand with my hands clean
    It is you who caused this
    When you took my guns away

    - Carrot
  14. canebrake

    canebrake New Member

    Three of Col. Jeff Cooper's favorites compiled in a small pamphlet entitled "Quoth the Raven";

    "If" by Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

    If you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
    If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too:
    If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
    Or being hated don't give way to hating,
    And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

    If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
    If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
    If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same:.
    If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
    Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

    If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
    And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
    And never breathe a word about your loss:
    If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,
    And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

    If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
    Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
    If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much:
    If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
    Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
    And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!​

    "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley (1849-1902)

    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.​

    "How Did You Die?" by Edmund Vance Cooke (1866-1932)

    Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
    With a resolute heart and cheerful?
    Or hide your face from the light of day
    With a craven soul and fearful?
    Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
    Or a trouble is what you make it,
    And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
    But only how did you take it?

    You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?
    Come up with a smiling face.
    It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
    But to lie there -- that's disgrace.
    The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;
    Be proud of your blackened eye!
    It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts,
    It's how did you fight -- and why?

    And though you be done to the death, what then?
    If you battled the best you could,
    If you played your part in the world of men,
    Why, the Critic will call it good.
    Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
    And whether he's slow or spry,
    It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
    But only how did you die?​
  15. Shihan

    Shihan Well-Known Member Lifetime Supporter

    If it is for a speech class and you have to recite it in front of the class, I like Boots by R. Kipling.
    It has a nice flow and gives opportunity for good voice inflection and a build up then you can close out nicely.

    We're foot—slog—slog—slog—sloggin' over Africa —
    Foot—foot—foot—foot—sloggin' over Africa —
    (Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again!)
    There's no discharge in the war!

    Seven—six—eleven—five—nine-an'-twenty mile to-day —
    Four—eleven—seventeen—thirty-two the day before —
    (Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again!)
    There's no discharge in the war!

    Don't—don't—don't—don't—look at what's in front of you.
    (Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again);
    Men—men—men—men—men go mad with watchin' em,
    An' there's no discharge in the war!

    Try—try—try—try—to think o' something different —
    Oh—my—God—keep—me from goin' lunatic!
    (Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again!)
    There's no discharge in the war!

    Count—count—count—count—the bullets in the bandoliers.
    If—your—eyes—drop—they will get atop o' you!
    (Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again) —
    There's no discharge in the war!

    We—can—stick—out—'unger, thirst, an' weariness,
    But—not—not—not—not the chronic sight of 'em —
    Boot—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again,
    An' there's no discharge in the war!

    'Taint—so—bad—by—day because o' company,
    But night—brings—long—strings—o' forty thousand million
    Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again.
    There's no discharge in the war!

    I—'ave—marched—six—weeks in 'Ell an' certify
    It—is—not—fire—devils, dark, or anything,
    But boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again,
    An' there's no discharge in the war!

    But that's just me. Good Luck