Cyclopic issued the challenge. "Name ten poems that have touched you. And just to make it interesting, work from cold memory. No Googling." Cyclopic also wrote " You may be struck by the lack of poetic sophistication in my choices." That sums it up for me too. So in no particular order

1. The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes. The first poem that caught my youthful imagination. A tragic romantic story and a rhythmic cadence
2.The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe and…
3. Lenore By Edgar Allen Poe both deal with depression and despair over the loss of a loved one. Was forced to read both in school but the meaning struck home years later with the death of my love.
4. Crucifixion by Phil Ochs. An epic song about the assassination of John and Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King. (This song has been part of my repertoire for 35 years. So don't be too impressed that I remember it all)

Crucifixion
And the night comes again to the circle studded sky
The stars settle slowly, in loneliness they lie
'Till the universe explodes as a falling star is raised
Planets are paralyzed, mountains are amazed
But they all glow brighter from the brilliance of the blaze
With the speed of insanity, then he dies.

In the green fields a turnin', a baby is born
His cries crease the wind and mingle with the morn
An assault upon the order, the changing of the guard
Chosen for a challenge that is hopelessly hard
And the only single sound is the sighing of the stars
But to the silence of distance they are sworn

So dance dance dance
Teach us to be true
Come dance dance dance
'Cause we love you

Images of innocence charge him go on
But the decadence of destiny is looking for a pawn
To a nightmare of knowledge he opens up the gate
And a blinding revelation is laid upon his plate
That beneath the greatest love is a hurricane of hate
And God help the critic of the dawn.

So he stands on the sea and shouts to the shore,
But the louder that he screams the longer he's ignored
For the wine of oblivion is drunk to the dregs
And the merchants of the masses almost have to be begged
'Till the giant is aware, someone's pulling at his leg,
And someone is tapping at the door.

To dance dance dance
Teach us to be true
Come dance dance dance
'Cause we love you

Then his message gathers meaning and it spreads across the land
The rewarding of his pain is the following of the man
But ignorance is everywhere and people have their way
Success is an enemy to the losers of the day
In the shadows of the churches, who knows what they pray
For blood is the language of the band.

The Spanish bulls are beaten; the crowd is soon beguiled,
The matador is beautiful, a symphony of style
Excitement is ecstatic, passion places bets
Gracefully he bows to ovations that he gets
But the hands that are applauding are slippery with sweat
And saliva is falling from their smiles

So dance dance dance
Teach us to be true
Come dance dance dance
'Cause we love you

Then this overflow of life is crushed into a liar
The gentle soul is ripped apart and tossed into the fire.
First a smile of rejection at the nearness of the night
Truth becomes a tragedy limping from the light
All the heavens are horrified, they stagger from the sight
As the cross is trembling with desire.

They say they can't believe it, it's a sacrilegious shame
Now, who would want to hurt such a hero of the game?
But you know I predicted it; I knew he had to fall
How did it happen? I hope his suffering was small.
Tell me every detail, for I've got to know it all,
And do you have a picture of the pain?

So dance dance dance
Teach us to be true
Come dance dance dance
'Cause we love you

Time takes her toll and the memory fades
But his glory is broken, in the magic that he made.
Reality is ruined; it's the freeing from the fear
The drama is distorted, to what they want to hear
Swimming in their sorrow, in the twisting of a tear
As they wait for a new thrill parade.

The eyes of the rebel have been branded by the blind
To the safety of sterility, the threat has been refined
The child was created to the slaughterhouse he's led
So good to be alive when the eulogies are read
The climax of emotion, the worship of the dead
And the cycle of sacrifice unwinds.

So dance dance dance
Teach us to be true
Come dance dance dance
'Cause we love you

And the night comes again to the circle studded sky
The stars settle slowly, in loneliness they lie
'Till the universe explodes as a falling star is raised
Planets are paralyzed, mountains are amazed
But they all glow brighter from the brilliance of the blaze
With the speed of insanity, then he died.

5. "He Became A Wandering Journeyman" by Kenneth Scott. Ken is my cousin. He is also the one who introduced me to the music of Phil Ochs. This poem was written when Ken was 20 ish (around 1970) Ken's poetry was an "Aha" moment for me. I was the first time that it struck me that poems weren't all written years ago by dead guys. And if Ken could do it then maybe I could too. For my senior class project in Advanced Typography, I produced a book of Ken's poems illustrated with my photographs. ( do not have this one memorized. I copied it from my book… but at least I didn't Google.)

"He Became A Wandering Journeyman"
by Kenneth Scott

Jesus, bleeding, Jesus
Did you see God in the garden?
Can you tell me where He's gone?
Moses saw Him on the mountain.
But they say that He's moved on.
Jesus, man, Jesus
Have you been down in hiding?
You're a carpenter by nature.
So I know you're not in heaven,
Where the gates are made of pearl
And all the work is done.
Jesus, poet teacher
Keep moving down the road.
You surely know by now,
A prophet can't go home.

6 The poetry of Leonard Cohen . His was the first erotic poetry I ever read. I remember a line that sex was "the spice box of earth". I still enjoy his music and lyrics.

7. "Life Song" by Mason Williams. Written back in the 60s when the word "gay" simply meant happy.

Life Song
by Mason Williams

Isn't life beautiful?
Isn't life gay?
Isn't life
The perfect thing
To pass the time away?

8. Concrete Poetry. Back in my Art School days this was the big thing. Poetry in which the words formed an image.

  W
GOD
   R
   D

9. The Shah's Jeweled Embroidered Psychedelic Pants by Biff Rose. This was a poem that got me a days suspension from high school. In junior year English class ( 1968) we had to memorize and recite a poem in front of the class. This was my selection. Sister Rita Claire was not amused. She said the subject matter was inappropriate for mixed company. I was suspended for a day, and I was snuck into the teachers lounge on three separate occasions to recite it for some of the less uptight teachers. This was my first lesson in politics: That what people say they stand for in public varies greatly from what they do in private. I still use this in my act when I break a string or have a technical glitch and need to fill time.

The Shah's Jeweled Embroidered Psychedelic Pants
by Biff Rose

The Prime Minister to Persia was a gentleman of France
Very much in love with the Shah's embroidered pants
That he wore on grand state occasions when he sat upon the throne
The Minister often longed to have them for his very own
For especially intriguing were the jewels and the laces
With which they were embellished in the most strategic places
No scarcity of fabric no paucity of pleat
To disturb the tranquil comfort of the chubby royal seat
In fact the section in this region was carefully designed 
For scratching any area the Shah might have in mind

Well it happened on a Sunday when the Shah was at his prayers
The ladies of the harem all were languishing upstairs
When the minister quite ticked off at his ill conceived desire
To add those jeweled trousers to his personal attire
Made hasty preparations to return at once to France
And boldly sought the Shahs boudoir and swiped the jeweled pants
Once within his grasp he found his happiness complete
He pressed them to his bosom he kissed the jeweled seat
He fondled every ornament he petted every gem
He gazed in rapture at each pleat and button hole and hem
And finally taking off his own he thrust his skinny shanks
Into trouser legs each of which was worth a million francs
The minister stood staring at the mirror on the wall in bliss
Never had his front his rear his shins his knees
Known any glory anywhere equivalent to these
And with a moan of sweet content he stood as if in a trance
Stoned on the vibrations from these psychedelic pants

But just then a lovely haremite, the favorite of the Shah
Went slinking through the hallways for her marital papa
And coming to his chambers she took a hasty glance
And detected not the minister but only jeweled pants
And in her girlish innocence she murmured "King Of Kings,
You know I can't resist you when I see you in dem tings!"
And running she threw herself with a passionate desire
Upon those glowing trousers that resembled coals of fire
"O Shah!" she finally said at last. "O high and mighty Shah"
"You've certainly improved since last you've been to my boudoir!"
Then struggling from his fond embrace, although the lights were dim
She realized her sad mistake and screamed "Hey! It ain't him!"

Today there sits upon the throne a youth, a handsome teen
About whose features something reminiscent can been seen
A child not born of innocence but neither of romance
But one who owes existence to a pair of jeweled pants
The minister thereafter left his head upon the block
The Shah now keeps his trousers in a strong box under lock
And that favorite of the harem is replete with years and riches
And numbers in her offspring no other sons of britches

10. "for you" by Michelle Miller. This was the first poem my love Michelle ever wrote for me. In fact it is the first poem ANYONE ever wrote to me. It is my fond memory and personal treasure. It may not be the most polished professional poem ever written but it is the most meaningful one to me.