If you are like us, you have strong feelings about poetry, and about each poem you read.
It shall be you!
If our colors are struck and the fighting done?Wherever he goes men and women accept and desire him, They desire he should like them, touch them, speak to them, stay with them.And my spirit said No, we but level that lift to pass and continue beyond.50 There is that in me-I do not know what it is-but I know it is.I do not call one greater and one smaller, That which fills its period and place is equal to any.And what is life?All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of the dogs, Hell and despair are upon me, crack and again crack the marksmen, I clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, thinn'd with the ooze of my skin, I fall.In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as forward sluing, To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing, Absorbing all to myself and for this song.Even as I stand or sit passing faster than you.Hurrah for positive science!The boy I love, the same becomes a man not through derived power, but in his own right, Wicked rather than virtuous out of conformity or fear, Fond of his sweetheart, relishing well his steak, Unrequited love or a slight cutting him worse than sharp.The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow'd wilds, It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.How they contort rapid as lightning, with spasms and spouts of blood!In vain the speeding or shyness, In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against my approach, In vain the mastodon retreats beneath games casino las vegas its own powder'd bones, In vain objects stand leagues off and assume manifold shapes, In vain the ocean settling in hollows.I plead for my brothers and sisters.Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising freshly exuding, Scooting obliquely high and low.Why should I venerate and be ceremonious?Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out.21 I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into new.
I tramp a perpetual journey, (come listen all!) My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut from the woods, No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair, I have no chair, no church, no philosophy, I lead no man.
Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest, Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, Both in and out of the game.