Faramir doesn't believe the darkness will endure. (without_glory) wrote in valarnet,
I didn't catch your name (I suppose it's listed in your valar net profile?), but it's a pleasure to meet you. A favorite is one that I posted in a comment, above, which can be found here, but I'm happy to post another, by William Blake:
Awake, awake, my little boy! Thou wast thy mother's only joy; Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep? Awake! thy father does thee keep.
'O, what land is the Land of Dreams? What are its mountains, and what are its streams? O father! I saw my mother there, Among the lilies by waters fair.
'Among the lambs, cloth?d in white, She walk'd with her Thomas in sweet delight. I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn; O! when shall I again return?'
Dear child, I also by pleasant streams Have wander'd all night in the Land of Dreams; But tho' calm and warm the waters wide, I could not get to the other side.
'Father, O father! what do we here In this land of unbelief and fear? The Land of Dreams is better far Above the light of the morning star.'
I have far too many favorite poets to ever possibly list, in one place. For starters? Szymborska, Sexton, Eliot, Cummings, Angelou, Frost, Blake, Neruda, Patten, Dickenson, Whitman, Plath, Parker...so many poems, written and translated from other languages, from the hands of countless other poets, all from various points in time.
I honestly can't say that I haven't run into a poem or poet that I haven't liked, even when the content is dark or questionable. Each one is unique in it's wording, and presents or conveys their own unique point of view. Art, in all of it's innumerable forms, is always subjective.