Online reading group and book discussion forum
  HOME ENTER FORUMS OUR BOOKS LINKS DONATE ADVERTISE CONTACT  
View unanswered posts | View active topics It is currently Mon Nov 12, 2018 3:58 pm





Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 150 posts ] • Topic evaluate: Evaluations: 1, 5.00 on the average.Evaluations: 1, 5.00 on the average.Evaluations: 1, 5.00 on the average.Evaluations: 1, 5.00 on the average.Evaluations: 1, 5.00 on the average.  Go to page Previous  1 ... 6, 7, 8, 9, 10  Next
A Favorite Poem 
Author Message
User avatar
Years of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membership
Freshman


Joined: Aug 2012
Posts: 214
Thanks: 58
Thanked: 86 times in 64 posts
Gender: Female
Country: United States (us)

Post Re: A Favorite Poem
I've really enjoyed reading all your guys' favorite poems! My favorite poem is probably Kipling with Dickinson coming in a close second. My favoritre poem is eloisa to abelard by alexander pope. I would post it but it's rather long and I don't want to take up alot of room. I highly encourage people to look it up though.



The following user would like to thank Olivia22 for this post:
Harry Marks
Sat Sep 01, 2012 2:00 pm
Profile Email
Years of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membership
Official Newbie!


Joined: Apr 2012
Posts: 3
Thanks: 3
Thanked: 0 time in 0 post
Gender: Male
Country: United States (us)

Post posted in error
posted in error



Last edited by Nelson60 on Tue Jun 03, 2014 6:54 pm, edited 1 time in total.



Fri Aug 02, 2013 4:47 am
Profile Email
Years of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membership
Getting Comfortable


Joined: Aug 2013
Posts: 6
Thanks: 0
Thanked: 3 times in 2 posts
Gender: None specified

Post Re: A Favorite Poem
Ever since I heard the Smugglers Song on 'Poetry Please', i've loved it. at the time I couldn't hear what was being said very well so I didn't know who it was by, when I discovered it was by Rudyard kipling he became one of my favorite poets. I love the flow, the rhythm and the debate. We had a very long disscusion about who was talking and what was the message that Kipling wished to get across, if any. This served to set my interest blazing even brighter in Kipling and his poems. My gran bought me a book of his poetry, so then i got into 'If' aswell.

[color=#FF0000]IF you wake at midnight, and hear a horse's feet,
Don't go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street,
Them that ask no questions isn't told a lie.
Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by.

Five and twenty ponies,
Trotting through the dark -
Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk.
Laces for a lady; letters for a spy,
Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by!

Running round the woodlump if you chance to find
Little barrels, roped and tarred, all full of brandy-wine,
Don't you shout to come and look, nor use 'em for your play.
Put the brishwood back again - and they'll be gone next day !

If you see the stable-door setting open wide;
If you see a tired horse lying down inside;
If your mother mends a coat cut about and tore;
If the lining's wet and warm - don't you ask no more !

If you meet King George's men, dressed in blue and red,
You be careful what you say, and mindful what is said.
If they call you " pretty maid," and chuck you 'neath the chin,
Don't you tell where no one is, nor yet where no one's been !

Knocks and footsteps round the house - whistles after dark -
You've no call for running out till the house-dogs bark.
Trusty's here, and Pincher's here, and see how dumb they lie
They don't fret to follow when the Gentlemen go by !

'If You do as you've been told, 'likely there's a chance,
You'll be give a dainty doll, all the way from France,
With a cap of Valenciennes, and a velvet hood -
A present from the Gentlemen, along 'o being good !

Five and twenty ponies,
Trotting through the dark -
Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk.
Them that asks no questions isn't told a lie -
Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by !
[/color][/color]

this is my first post so i'm a bit nervous, hope you enjoy! :blush:



The following user would like to thank littlebookworm for this post:
geo, Harry Marks
Wed Aug 14, 2013 4:53 pm
Profile Email
Years of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membership
Official Newbie!


Joined: Apr 2012
Posts: 3
Thanks: 3
Thanked: 0 time in 0 post
Gender: Male
Country: United States (us)

Post Re: GentleReader9
wegelin wrote:
Dear GentleReader9:

Do you know the author of that translation of "The Sorcerer's Apprentice" of which you posted an excerpt?

Thanks

wegelin




Wegelin,
the author was Joseph R. Auslander, first Poet Laureate of the USA (1937-1941), and
Consultant in English Poetry at Library of Congress.

This is the poem text from the back of the original LP RCA Victor LM-1803 - Peter & the Wolf/Sorcerer's Apprentice etc. Richard Hale narrated the poem.

The Sorcerer's Apprentice

Creative Translation of the Goethe Text
by Joseph Auslander

So he's gone, the wise old wizard,
And for once alone I find me;
And I feel it in my gizzard
I can make his spirits mind me.
Each look, each word he muttered
I marked. With much ado,
With spirits nicely buttered
I'll make magic too.

Wander! Wander!
Faster! Faster!
Fetch your master
Water gushing
From the fountain! Let it thunder
Down the bath in torrents rushing!

Now come, old broom! Stop acting surly!
Wrap the ragged ragmops round you!
You have served him late and early;
To my bidding now I've bound you.
With two legs for prancing,
A head and hands galore,
Quick, some necromancing -
Make that bucket pour!

Wander! Wander!
Faster! Faster!
Fetch your master
Water gushing
From the fountain! Let it thunder
Down the bath in torrents rushing!

Look! Down to the shore he's pouncing;
There! He's at the stream already;
Back like lightning see the bouncing
Rascal pour his pails right steady.
Once more! Watch him hasten!
High the bath-floor swills;
Now each trough and basin
Sloshes to the gills!

Hoa there! Stay now!
Thumping measure
Of your treasure
Have you given!
Blast my luck, what do I say now?
Mind's a blank, so help me Heaven!

Where's the word that marks the Master?
What's the word that halts the slave?
Lord, the rogue runs ever faster!
My old broom's a churlish knave!
Without further warrant,
Back and forth hops he,
Torrent upon torrent
Splashing over me.

Nay, no longer
Shall it ease him;
Nay, I'll seize him!
Curse such creatures!
As he runs, the imp grows stronger.
Look, what gestures! See, what features!

O you sprig of hell, unblushing!
Won't you stop until you've drowned me?
Over sills already rushing,
Walls of water rise around me.
Blasted broomstick, never
Will you quit this game?
Be a broom forever!
Stand stock still for shame!

Do you still
Refuse to hear me?
Now, then, fear me!
Now I'll stop you!
Come, O sharp-toothed axe, and kill!
Head from trunk, old stick, I'll chop you!

Ah, he comes towards me wobblin'!
Now I'll snatch him! How I'll split him!
Swift I'll cut you down, old goblin!
Bing! Bang! Hear the keen blade hit him!
Oh, such a bold stroke surely!
Now he's cleft in twain!
Now I'll hope securely,
I may breathe again!

Oh, help! Another!
Both halves, leaping,
Hurry heaping
Water, water!
Each half vying with his brother!
Heavens! Spare me further slaughter!

Wet and wetter still they scamper
Up the stairs and through the hall now!
What a deluge! What a damper!
Lord and Master, hear me bawl now! . . .
Ah, at last the Master!
Lord, your imps run free!
Messed up in disaster,
Take a squint at me!

Back you tumble,
Broom! Broom!
Back to gloom
Of mop and plaster!
Pay no mind what greenhorns mumble!
You jump only for your master!



Sat Aug 13, 2016 7:40 am
Profile Email
Online
Wearing Out Library Card

Bronze Contributor

Joined: Nov 2017
Posts: 231
Location: New Jersey
Thanks: 118
Thanked: 108 times in 85 posts
Gender: Male
Country: United States (us)

Post Re: Delight in Disorder
Saffron wrote:
Now that we've mentioned the poem "Delight in Disorder" so many times, I think we should have it!


DELIGHT IN DISORDER.
by Robert Herrick


A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness :
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction :
An erring lace which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher :
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbons to flow confusedly :
A winning wave (deserving note)
In the tempestuous petticoat :
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility :
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.




MY Love in her attire doth shew her wit,
It doth so well become her:
For every season she hath dressings fit,
For Winter, Spring, and Summer.
No beauty she doth miss 5
When all her robes are on:
But Beauty’s self she is
When all her robes are gone.
-- Anonymous

Robert Herrick was a strange sort of cleric.
Another one was John Donne.
-- Ogden Nash


_________________
Mueller is Coming.
subpoena
noun
1. the usual writ for the summoning of witnesses or the submission of evidence, as records or documents, before a court or other deliberative body.


The following user would like to thank Litwitlou for this post:
Harry Marks
Tue Nov 21, 2017 5:55 am
Profile Email
Online
Wearing Out Library Card

Bronze Contributor

Joined: Nov 2017
Posts: 231
Location: New Jersey
Thanks: 118
Thanked: 108 times in 85 posts
Gender: Male
Country: United States (us)

Post Re: A Favorite Poem
I don't think we've had A.E. Housman yet. I find this poem funny, sad and true. So I figure it's a darned fine poem.

`Terence, this is stupid stuff:
You eat your victuals fast enough;
There's nothing much amiss, 'tis clear,
To see the rate you drink your beer.
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make,
It gives a chap the belly-ache.

The cow, the old cow, she is dead;
It sleeps well, the horned head:
We poor lads, 'tis our turn now
To hear such tunes as killed the cow.
Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme
Your friends to death before their time
Moping melancholy mad:
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.'

Why, if 'tis dancing you would be,
There's brisker pipes than poetry.
Say, for what were hop-yards meant,
Or why was Burton built on Trent?
Oh many a peer of England brews
Livelier liquor than the Muse,
And malt does more than Milton can
To justify God's ways to man.

Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink
For fellows whom it hurts to think:
Look into the pewter pot
To see the world as the world's not.
And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past:
The mischief is that 'twill not last.

Oh I have been to Ludlow fair
And left my necktie God knows where,
And carried half way home, or near,
Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer:
Then the world seemed none so bad,
And I myself a sterling lad;
And down in lovely muck I've lain,
Happy till I woke again.


Then I saw the morning sky:
Heigho, the tale was all a lie;
The world, it was the old world yet,
I was I, my things were wet,
And nothing now remained to do
But begin the game anew.

Therefore, since the world has still
Much good, but much less good than ill,
And while the sun and moon endure
Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure,
I'd face it as a wise man would,
And train for ill and not for good.

'Tis true, the stuff I bring for sale
Is not so brisk a brew as ale:
Out of a stem that scored the hand
I wrung it in a weary land.
But take it: if the smack is sour
The better for the embittered hour;
It will do good to heart and head
When your soul is in my soul's stead;
And I will friend you, if I may,
In the dark and cloudy day.

There was a king reigned in the East:
There, when kings will sit to feast,
They get their fill before they think
With poisoned meat and poisoned drink.
He gathered all that sprang to birth
From the many-venomed earth;
First a little, thence to more,
He sampled all her killing store;
And easy, smiling, seasoned sound,
Sate the king when healths went round.

They put arsenic in his meat
And stared aghast to watch him eat;
They poured strychnine in his cup
And shook to see him drink it up:
They shook, they stared as white's their shirt:
Them it was their poison hurt.
-- I tell the tale that I heard told.
Mithridates, he died old.


_________________
Mueller is Coming.
subpoena
noun
1. the usual writ for the summoning of witnesses or the submission of evidence, as records or documents, before a court or other deliberative body.


The following user would like to thank Litwitlou for this post:
Harry Marks
Tue Nov 21, 2017 6:06 am
Profile Email
Online
Wearing Out Library Card

Bronze Contributor

Joined: Nov 2017
Posts: 231
Location: New Jersey
Thanks: 118
Thanked: 108 times in 85 posts
Gender: Male
Country: United States (us)

Post Re: A Favorite Poem
She's so famous for her biting wit, book and theatre reviews that sometimes her poetry is overlooked. Oh, and she rocks my world.


Symptom Recital

I do not like my state of mind;
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the gentlest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I'd be arrested.
I am not sick, I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore;
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men....
I'm due to fall in love again.
--Dorothy Parker

Résumé

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.




From A Letter From Lesbia


... So, praise the gods, Catullus is away!
And let me tend you this advice, my dear:
Take any lover that you will, or may,
Except a poet. All of them are queer.

It's just the same- a quarrel or a kiss
Is but a tune to play upon his pipe.
He's always hymning that or wailing this;
Myself, I much prefer the business type.

That thing he wrote, the time the sparrow died-
(Oh, most unpleasant- gloomy, tedious words!)
I called it sweet, and made believe I cried;
The stupid fool! I've always hated birds....


The Maid-Servant At The Inn

"It's queer," she said; "I see the light
As plain as I beheld it then,
All silver-like and calm and bright-
We've not had stars like that again!

"And she was such a gentle thing
To birth a baby in the cold.
The barn was dark and frightening-
This new one's better than the old.

"I mind my eyes were full of tears,
For I was young, and quick distressed,
But she was less than me in years
That held a son against her breast.

"I never saw a sweeter child-
The little one, the darling one!-
I mind I told her, when he smiled
You'd know he was his mother's son.

"It's queer that I should see them so-
The time they came to Bethlehem
Was more than thirty years ago;
I've prayed that all is well with them."


Yeah, she sends me.


_________________
Mueller is Coming.
subpoena
noun
1. the usual writ for the summoning of witnesses or the submission of evidence, as records or documents, before a court or other deliberative body.


Tue Nov 21, 2017 6:27 am
Profile Email
Online
Wearing Out Library Card

Bronze Contributor

Joined: Nov 2017
Posts: 231
Location: New Jersey
Thanks: 118
Thanked: 108 times in 85 posts
Gender: Male
Country: United States (us)

Post Re: A Favorite Poem
LXV

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
But sad mortality o’er-sways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer’s honey breath hold out
Against the wreckful siege of battering days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack,
Shall time’s best jewel from time’s chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O, none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.


_________________
Mueller is Coming.
subpoena
noun
1. the usual writ for the summoning of witnesses or the submission of evidence, as records or documents, before a court or other deliberative body.


The following user would like to thank Litwitlou for this post:
Harry Marks
Mon Dec 18, 2017 9:47 am
Profile Email
User avatar
Official Newbie!


Joined: Feb 2018
Posts: 2
Location: Australia
Thanks: 0
Thanked: 0 time in 0 post
Gender: Female
Country: Australia (au)

Post Re: A Favorite Poem
Beyond that, I think that here Yeats is at the top of his form. He shows a Shakespeare-like ability to compress language and bend it to his will. It has the bold, famous declarative opening sentence, and it never lets up from there. It was a tough choice between this and his "The Circus Animals' Desertion."



Sat Feb 10, 2018 10:38 pm
Profile Email
Years of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membership
BookTalk.org Hall of Fame

Platinum Contributor

Joined: Jan 2008
Posts: 6091
Location: Berryville, Virginia
Thanks: 1673
Thanked: 1818 times in 1389 posts
Gender: Male
Country: United States (us)

Post Re: A Favorite Poem
SarahJin wrote:
Beyond that, I think that here Yeats is at the top of his form. He shows a Shakespeare-like ability to compress language and bend it to his will. It has the bold, famous declarative opening sentence, and it never lets up from there. It was a tough choice between this and his "The Circus Animals' Desertion."

I wondered which Yeats poem you're talking about. Can I guess? Is it "Sailing to Byzantium," beginning with the declarative, "That is no country for old men."



Sun Feb 11, 2018 10:17 pm
Profile
User avatar
Years of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membership
Booktacular!

Gold Contributor

Joined: Oct 2007
Posts: 3249
Location: Cheshire, England
Thanks: 329
Thanked: 666 times in 514 posts
Gender: Female
Country: United Kingdom (uk)

Post Re: A Favorite Poem
We used to sing this in my school assembly in 1958, so although I feel a bit despondent about it now, I still love it playing in my head.”


1 These things shall be: a loftier race
Than e'er the world hath known shall rise
With flame of freedom in their souls
And light of knowledge in their eyes.
2 They shall be gentle, brave, and strong,
To spill no drop of blood, but dare
All that may plant man's lordship firm
On earth, and fire, and sea, and air.
3 Nation with nation, land with land,
Unarmed shall live as comrades free;
In every heart and brain shall throb
The pulse of one fraternity.
4 New arts shall bloom of loftier mold,
And mightier music thrill the skies,
And every life shall be a song,
When all the earth is paradise.


_________________
Only those become weary of angling who bring nothing to it but the idea of catching fish.

He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....

Rafael Sabatini


The following user would like to thank Penelope for this post:
Harry Marks
Mon Mar 19, 2018 11:55 am
Profile
Online
Wearing Out Library Card

Bronze Contributor

Joined: Nov 2017
Posts: 231
Location: New Jersey
Thanks: 118
Thanked: 108 times in 85 posts
Gender: Male
Country: United States (us)

Post Re: A Favorite Poem
.
.
Tomorrow is the vernal equinox. I'll drive to the Jersey Shore in the wee hours to catch the first sunrise of spring. I call it "easing the spring."

LESSONS OF THE WAR

To Alan Michell
Vixi duellis nuper idoneus
Et militavi non sine gloria
I. NAMING OF PARTS

To-day we have naming of parts. Yesterday,
We had daily cleaning. And to-morrow morning,
We shall have what to do after firing. But to-day,
To-day we have naming of parts. Japonica
Glistens like coral in all of the neighboring gardens,
And to-day we have naming of parts.

This is the lower sling swivel. And this
Is the upper sling swivel, whose use you will see,
When you are given your slings. And this is the piling swivel,
Which in your case you have not got. The branches
Hold in the gardens their silent, eloquent gestures,
Which in our case we have not got.

This is the safety-catch, which is always released
With an easy flick of the thumb. And please do not let me
See anyone using his finger. You can do it quite easy
If you have any strength in your thumb. The blossoms
Are fragile and motionless, never letting anyone see
Any of them using their finger.

And this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this
Is to open the breech, as you see. We can slide it
Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this
Easing the spring. And rapidly backwards and forwards
The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers:
They call it easing the Spring.

They call it easing the Spring: it is perfectly easy
If you have any strength in your thumb: like the bolt,
And the breech, and the cocking-piece, and the point of balance,
Which in our case we have not got; and the almond-blossom
Silent in all of the gardens and the bees going backwards and forwards,
For to-day we have naming of parts.

-- Henry Reed


_________________
Mueller is Coming.
subpoena
noun
1. the usual writ for the summoning of witnesses or the submission of evidence, as records or documents, before a court or other deliberative body.


The following user would like to thank Litwitlou for this post:
Harry Marks
Mon Mar 19, 2018 2:27 pm
Profile Email
User avatar
Years of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membership
Booktacular!

Gold Contributor

Joined: Oct 2007
Posts: 3249
Location: Cheshire, England
Thanks: 329
Thanked: 666 times in 514 posts
Gender: Female
Country: United Kingdom (uk)

Post Re: A Favorite Poem
Beautiful, thank you.


_________________
Only those become weary of angling who bring nothing to it but the idea of catching fish.

He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....

Rafael Sabatini


Tue Mar 20, 2018 2:49 am
Profile
User avatar
Years of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membership
pets endangered by possible book avalanche

BookTalk.org Moderator
Platinum Contributor

Joined: Aug 2008
Posts: 4299
Location: NC
Thanks: 1781
Thanked: 1849 times in 1397 posts
Gender: Male

Post Re: A Favorite Poem
The Darkling Thrush
BY THOMAS HARDY

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.

The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.


_________________
-Geo
Question everything


The following user would like to thank geo for this post:
DWill, Harry Marks
Mon Mar 26, 2018 8:17 pm
Profile
Years of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membershipYears of membership
BookTalk.org Hall of Fame

Platinum Contributor

Joined: Jan 2008
Posts: 6091
Location: Berryville, Virginia
Thanks: 1673
Thanked: 1818 times in 1389 posts
Gender: Male
Country: United States (us)

Post Re: A Favorite Poem
That might be about as hopeful as Hardy ever gets, and it's not too hopeful. I've always found that Hardy suits my own somewhat depressive mood, so I like his poetry and fiction. I like traditional verse forms, too, such as those Hardy uses.

This one is often anthologized. It's sometimes said to reflect Hardy's long but difficult marriage.

Neutral Tones
BY THOMAS HARDY

We stood by a pond that winter day,
And the sun was white, as though chidden of God,
And a few leaves lay on the starving sod;
– They had fallen from an ash, and were gray.

Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove
Over tedious riddles of years ago;
And some words played between us to and fro
On which lost the more by our love.

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing
Alive enough to have strength to die;
And a grin of bitterness swept thereby
Like an ominous bird a-wing….

Since then, keen lessons that love deceives,
And wrings with wrong, have shaped to me
Your face, and the God curst sun, and a tree,
And a pond edged with grayish leaves.



The following user would like to thank DWill for this post:
Harry Marks
Tue Mar 27, 2018 6:28 am
Profile
Display posts from previous:  Sort by  
Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 150 posts ] • Topic evaluate: Evaluations: 1, 5.00 on the average.Evaluations: 1, 5.00 on the average.Evaluations: 1, 5.00 on the average.Evaluations: 1, 5.00 on the average.Evaluations: 1, 5.00 on the average.  Go to page Previous  1 ... 6, 7, 8, 9, 10  Next



Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 7 guests


You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot post attachments in this forum

Search for:



Site Resources 
HELPFUL INFO:
Forum Rules & Tips
Frequently Asked Questions
BBCode Explained
Author Interview Transcripts
Be a Book Discussion Leader!

IDEAS FOR WHAT TO READ:
Bestsellers
Book Awards
• Book Reviews
• Online Books
• Team Picks
Newspaper Book Sections

WHERE TO BUY BOOKS:
• Great resource pages are coming!

BEHIND THE BOOKS:
• Great resource pages are coming!

PROMOTE YOUR BOOK!
Advertise on BookTalk.org
How To Promote Your Book





BookTalk.org is a thriving book discussion forum, online reading group or book club. We read and talk about both fiction and non-fiction books as a community. Our forums are open to anyone in the world. While discussing books is our passion we also have active forums for talking about poetry, short stories, writing and authors. Our general discussion forum section includes forums for discussing science, religion, philosophy, politics, history, current events, arts, entertainment and more. We hope you join us!


Navigation 
MAIN NAVIGATION

HOMEFORUMSOUR BOOKSAUTHOR INTERVIEWSADVERTISELINKSFAQDONATETERMS OF USEPRIVACY POLICYSITEMAP

OTHER PAGES WORTH EXPLORING
Banned Book ListOnline Reading GroupTop 10 Atheism Books

Copyright © BookTalk.org 2002-2018. All rights reserved.


seo for beginners