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Message: <blockquote data-quote="ForceUser" data-source="post: 400440" data-attributes="member: 2785">I like Robert Frost, Thom Gunn, and Ted Hughes. Plug any of those names into Google and you'll find links to their work online. One of my favorite poems ever is by Gunn. About a year and a half ago I was playing a bard in a campaign and I recited this at the table (Want extra XP? Recite a poem in-character!):St. Martin and the BeggarMartin sat young upon his bed, a budding cenobite.Said, "Though I hold the principles of Christian life be right,I cannot grow from them alone, I must go out to fight."He traveled hard, he traveled far, The light began to fail."Is not this act of mine," he said,"A cowardly betrayel? Can I not peg my nature downWith a religious nail?"Wind scudded on the marshland, and dangling at his sideHis sword soon clattered under hailWhat could he do but ride? There was not shelter for a dogThe garrison far ahead.A ship that moves on darkness, he rode across the plain,When a brawny beggar started up who grabbed at his rein,And leant dripping with sweat and water upon his horse's mane.He glared into Martin's eyes, with eyes more wild than bold.His hair sent rivers down his spine, like a fowl plucked to be sold.His flesh was gray, Martin said, "What, naked in this cold?"I have no food to give you, money would be a joke.Drawing his new sword from its sheath he took his soldier's cloakAnd cut it in two equal parts with a single stroke.Grabbing it 'round his shoulders, pinning it with his chin,The beggar dived into the dark, and soaking to the skin,Martin continued on until he reached an inn.One candle on the wooden table, the food and drink were poor.The woman hobbled off, he ate,Then casually before the table stood the beggar As if he had used the door.Now dry, for hair and flesh had been By warm airs fanned.Still bare, but round each muscled thighA single golden band. His eyes now wild with love, he held the half cloak in his hand.'You recognized the human need, remembered yours becauseYou did not hesitate, my saint, to cut your cloak across,And never since that moment did you regret the loss.''My enemies would have turned away, My holy toadies would have given all the cloak and frozen,Conscious that they were good.But you, being a saint of men, Gave only what you could.'St. Martin held his hand out to offer from his plate,But the beggar vanished, thinking food, like cloaks,Is needless weight.Pondering on the matter, St. Martin bentAnd ate.~~~~~~~Apologies to Mr. Gunn, that's from memory so I'm sure I messed up something. Anyway, poetry is a great way to enhance a roleplay session.</blockquote>

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