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Poems that make you cry

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There's a very interesting article on the Guardian about poems that make men cry:

 

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/mar/23/poetry-book-men-choose-favourite-tear-jerkers

 

More interesting than the article itself are the comments where people have put down the stuff that makes them cry.

 

To be honest, I have to say that I have never come across a poem which literally makes me cry - makes me very sad yes, but not actually cry. Songs and films do have this effect on me eg the first 15 minutes of "Up" and the song "You'll never walk alone". Anyway, this is my choice for a poem that almost makes me cry:

 

Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays" :

 

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?

 

Anyone else (male or female) have any choices?

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Alone poem, when read this poem, I realize my self and make me cry,

 

I was once sad and lonely,
Having nobody to comfort me,
So I wore a mask that always smiled;
To hide my feelings behind a lie.

Before long, I had many friends;
With my mask, I was one of them.
But deep inside, I still felt empty,
Like I was missing a part of me.

Nobody could hear my cries at night
For I designed my mask to hide the lies.
Nobody could see the pain I was feeling
For I designed my mask to be laughing.

Behind all the smiles were the tears
And behind all the comfort were the fears.
Everything you think you see,
Wasn't everything there was to me.

Day by day,
I was slowly dying.
I couldn't go on,
There was something missing..

Until now I'm still searching
For the thing that'll stop my crying.
For someone who'll erase my fears,
For the person who'll wipe my tears.

But till then I'll keep on smiling.
Hiding behind this mask I'm wearing.
Hoping one day I can smile,
Till then, I'll be here.. waiting.


 

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From the time I was a child, my father had a special poem that he would recite to me. Since he died, I have a hard time reading it without getting misty-eyed.

 

 

Shake Hands by A.E. Housman

 

Shake hands, we shall never be friends, all's over;

I only vex you the more I try.

All's wrong that ever I've done or said,

And nought to help it in this dull head:

Shake hands, here's luck, good-bye.

 

But if you come to a road where danger

Or guilt or anguish or shame's to share,

Be good to the lad that loves you true

And the soul that was born to die for you,

And whistle and I'll be there.

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