Help me find a Poem?
#1
I don't know if this isn't the right sort of site to post this to, but i can't find any other website that is closer to it.

I'm trying to find a poem, but i can't recall the title or poet. I realize this is a long shot, but it's worth a shot.

I found the poem about a year back in a book of poetry in an old house with my girlfriend. The book looked to be somewhat old, and i'm fairly sure it was a well-known poet. The poem was about a girl named after a flower (Violet, Daisy?) who disliked her name, but slowly grew into it, and eventually met a boy who said her name was pretty, who she ended up marrying.

I know i'm not giving you much to work off of, but any thoughts? I wanted to find this to be able to show my girlfriend for her birthday, but i don't know if i'll be able to find it in time.

Anything helps! Thanks!
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#2
If I was you, I'd write the poem myself. And if the girl didn't know the difference, I'd marry her. If she did know the difference, I'd question her until she didn't know the difference anymore. If she insisted that I was wrong, I wouldn't trust her anyway. After all, there are all kinds of men out there that might know the real poem, and if she's that kind of girl, I'd just get what I can get and hope for the best.
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#3
Well.
There's "The Violet" by Jane Taylor

Down in a green and shady bed
A modest violet grew;
Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,
As if to hide from view.

And yet it was a lovely flower,
Its colors bright and fair;
It might have graced a rosy bower,
Instead of hiding there.

Yet there it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed;
And there diffused a sweet perfume,
Within the silent shade.

Then let me to the valley go,
This pretty flower to see;
That I may also learn to grow
In sweet humility.
I'll be there in a minute.
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#4


                "Roses are red,
                Violets are blue;
                I hate my name,
                I think you will too."
               
                "Violets' your name,
                A pretty one too;
                My name is Rose,
                Let's go home and screw."


almost terse
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#5
(07-24-2014, 05:35 AM)samcarrigan Wrote:  I don't know if this isn't the right sort of site to post this to, but i can't find any other website that is closer to it.

I'm trying to find a poem, but i can't recall the title or poet. I realize this is a long shot, but it's worth a shot.

I found the poem about a year back in a book of poetry in an old house with my girlfriend. The book looked to be somewhat old, and i'm fairly sure it was a well-known poet. The poem was about a girl named after a flower (Violet, Daisy?) who disliked her name, but slowly grew into it, and eventually met a boy who said her name was pretty, who she ended up marrying.

I know i'm not giving you much to work off of, but any thoughts? I wanted to find this to be able to show my girlfriend for her birthday, but i don't know if i'll be able to find it in time.

Anything helps! Thanks!

"A Boy Named Sue"

My daddy left home when I was three
And he didn't leave much to ma and me
Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze.
Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me "Sue."

Well, he must o' thought that is quite a joke
And it got a lot of laughs from a' lots of folk,
It seems I had to fight my whole life through.
Some gal would giggle and I'd get red
And some guy'd laugh and I'd bust his head,
I tell ya, life ain't easy for a boy named "Sue."

Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My fist got hard and my wits got keen,
I'd roam from town to town to hide my shame.
But I made a vow to the moon and stars
That I'd search the honky-tonks and bars
And kill that man who gave me that awful name.

Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July
And I just hit town and my throat was dry,
I thought I'd stop and have myself a brew.
At an old saloon on a street of mud,
There at a table, dealing stud,
Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me "Sue."

Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
From a worn-out picture that my mother'd had,
And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye.
He was big and bent and gray and old,
And I looked at him and my blood ran cold
And I said: "My name is 'Sue!' How do you do!
Now your gonna die!!"

Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes
And he went down, but to my surprise,
He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear.
But I busted a chair right across his teeth
And we crashed through the wall and into the street
Kicking and a' gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer.

I tell ya, I've fought tougher men
But I really can't remember when,
He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile.
I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss,
He went for his gun and I pulled mine first,
He stood there lookin' at me and I saw him smile.

And he said: "Son, this world is rough
And if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough
And I knew I wouldn't be there to help ya along.
So I give ya that name and I said goodbye
I knew you'd have to get tough or die
And it's the name that helped to make you strong."

He said: "Now you just fought one hell of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right
To kill me now, and I wouldn't blame you if you do.
But ya ought to thank me, before I die,
For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye
Cause I'm the son-of-a-bitch that named you "Sue.'"

I got all choked up and I threw down my gun
And I called him my pa, and he called me his son,
And I came away with a different point of view.
And I think about him, now and then,
Every time I try and every time I win,
And if I ever have a son, I think I'm gonna name him
Bill or George! Anything but Sue! I still hate that name!


-Johnny Cash
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#6
^^^ lolol...I don't know why I'm laughing, but I am.
You can't hate me more than I hate myself.  I win.

"When the spirit of justice eloped on the wings
Of a quivering vibrato's bittersweet sting."

feedback award
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#7
PULL MY DAISY (III)
by Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, Neal Cassady


Pull my daisy
Tip my cup
Cut my thoughts
for coconuts

Jack my Arden
Gate my shades
Silk my garden
Rose my days

Bone my shadow
Dove my dream
Milk my mind &
Make me cream

Hop my heart on
Harp my height
Hip my angel
Hype my light

Heal the raindrop
Sow the eye
Woe the worm
Work the wise

Stop the hoax
Where's the wake
What's the box
How's the Hicks

Rob my locker
Lick my rocks
Rack my lacks
Lark my looks

Whore my door
Beat my beer
Craze my hair
Bare my poor

Say my oops
Ope my shell
Roll my bones
Ring my bell

Pope my parts
Pop my pet
Poke my pap
Pit my plum

---------------

A Poem for a Woman Named Rose
by Willie Perdomo


It’s hard
to write a poem
for a woman
named after a flower,
a plant, a tree, a season.
You feel like whatever you write
has to be beautiful,
smell good
drink sun that
you need to be gentle
when you touch it
see it shake, dance
when you talk to it &
wherever you place it,
everything around it
looks better.
billy wrote:welcome to the site. make it your own, wear it like a well loved slipper and wear it out. ella pleads:please click forum titles for posting guidelines, important threads. New poet? Try Poetic DevicesandWard's Tips

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