Blew You Away

C.bronco

I have plans...
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Who was the first poet who got under your skin?

For me it was a tie between T.S. (Terribly Sexy) Eliot and Raymond Carver.

The Waste Land and Transformation still haunt me.

How about you?
 

sheadakota

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Robert Frost

Nothing Gold Can Stay is my favorite poem
 
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Ken

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... Coolridge (Even though I always spell his name wrong, and never recall his first name.)
Read Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner back when I was a lad.
Enjoyed it then and still do now.
 

Priene

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Bob Dylan. I played him non-stop from fifteen to seventeen. My mother still comes out in an allergy rash when she hears his name.
 

poetinahat

say it loud
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The first? Would have to be A.A. Milne; at bedtime, my father used to read us poems from Now We Are Six.

In high school, Shelley, Dylan Thomas or James Dickey. Lawence Ferlinghetti kind of exploded poetry for me, and he shook the dust out of it for me.
 
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Ganesha

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One of my favorite childhood poems


Lewis Carroll
"You are old, Father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head—
Do you think, at your age, it is right?"

"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."

"You are old," said the youth, "As I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door—
Pray, what is the reason of that?"

"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment—one shilling the box—
Allow me to sell you a couple?"

"You are old," said the youth, "And your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak—
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"

"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."

"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose—
What made you so awfully clever?"

"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs!"
 

finnisempty

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Younger: Poe of course I was like 10 at the time. I first read his short stories than gradually started with the poetry.

Older: Rimbaud
 

sunna

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When I was a kid, Shel Silverstein, definitely.

Later, Dylan Thomas and Allen Ginsberg. I read Fern Hill the same year I read Howl, when I was 16, and they both just knocked me off my feet.
 

Poetic_Justice

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I can't remember the poet, but there was a poem that talks about killing gofers and something about why they couldn't go out the"quiet nazi way" ...and the narrator in the poem actually starts dreaming of how she'll kill the last sneaky gofer...

(I hope it was gofers... it was some sort of animal like that)


EDIT

I found it, and they were woodchucks...

It's called "Woodchucks" by Maxine Kumin
 
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