The true king of poetry? who are they to you

I was thinking of the poets that really made me think and the ones that made me feel. share your favs of both.

The first poet i truely related with was William Ernest Henley, i was forced to read "Invictus" in school. Henley opened my eyes to emotional writing, so i say he made me feel. The poet that makes me think isnt really a poet at all but still the best, Marcus Aurelius. his words are deep and true. his book is called "The Emperor's Handbook" althogh blasted by critics has is still revered for his poems by poets. his is a writer's writer.

Before now i havent heard of him so i looked him up. thanks for the insight.

Fallen Mod: I agree with you 100%. I prefer Hafez over every other poet. He is amazing.

My other favourite is Rumi. He has very nice poems. :)

PS: I love sufi poets. Sufism rocks! :D

Oh yes please feel free to share your favorite female poets aswell.

I like Emily Dickinson. her writes inspired me a lot with my earlier poetry

The Big Bukowski: http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Charles_Bukowski

I didn't mean a universal king of poetry, i mean the ones you first followed or imulated to even begain writing.

I never did follow any so-called "king". I just put my mind on paper.

The guy who put the POE in POEtry ;)

Im gonna guess you guys can figure that one out =p

A Dream Within a Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

My fav poem of his. A deep thought that many of us think about various times in our lives.

Edgar Allan Poe is by far the king of poets in my perspective.

Well thank ya very much =p

Love your choices Alfred...you got me reading Hafiz and Rumi...I love the works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning...one of my favorites is.......

VI
Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforth in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before,
Without the sense of that which I forbore--
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double. What I do
And what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue
God for myself, He hears that name of thine,
And sees within my eyes the tears of two.

Then the great works of Neruda....his love poems are some of the best.

Sonnet VIII

If your eyes were not the color of the moon, of a day full of clay, and work, and fire, if even held-in you did not move in agile grace like the air, if you were not an amber week, not the yellow moment when autumn climbs up through the vines; if you were not that bread the fragrant moon kneads, sprinkling its flour across the sky, oh, my dearest, I could not love you so! But when I hold you I hold everything that is -- sand, time, the tree of the rain, everything is alive so that I can be alive: without moving I can see it all: in your life I see everything that lives.

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.