I've been unofficially tagged by Ex Libris for a poetry meme. It's been a while since I've participated in a meme and thought this would be fun and thought-provoking.
What's the first poem you remember reading/hearing/reacting to?
Goodness, I'm not sure. Possibly Who Has Seen the Wind by Christina G. Rossetti which is in one of the children's books (My Brimful Book
) I recently mentioned here.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling
The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads
The wind is passing by.
I was forced to memorize (name of poem) in school and...
I don't recall ever having to memorize a poem in school. I'm ashamed to say that I don't even remember studying poetry other than maybe in 7th Grade English! I guess that's what you get for growing up in Southern California during the 70s.
I read/don't read poetry because...
I don't generally seek out poetry to read on a regular basis. However, I'm always happy when I discover a poem that sounds pleasing to the ear. Since I don't really know the proper way to read a poem (with comprehension), I prefer those that rhyme and have an understandable cadence (I'm sure there's a technical term for this).
A poem I'm likely to think about when asked about a favorite poem is...
Well, I actually do have a couple. I love Wordsworth's Daffodils. It's one of the few poems I've memorized (in bits and pieces) over the years.
I wandered lonely as a Cloud
That floats on high o'er Vales and Hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company:
I gazed-and gazed-but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the Daffodils.
I also like Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
And then there's Song from Pippa Passes by Robert Browning:
The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his Heaven -
All's right with the world!
I write/don't write poetry, but...
No, I don't write poetry. However, my wonderfully romantic husband wrote me a poem for Valentine's Day this year. We have an on-going joke about the pronunciation (or misprounciation!) of the word "poem."
A Poime for Lesley
Is it too much to ask of life
That we run our race with one true friend?
That when we sleep we slumber deep,
And then our fences kindly mend?
That hearth and home be bright and warm,
A lovely, lively place?
And can we find some peace of mind,
A partnership of grace?
Should not our souls be free to fly?
And when we strive we do beseech
The stars agleam - so bright, they seem! -
Could our grasp this once exceed our reach?
It must be so! What else explains
The love I've found, this joyful song to sing?
You brought a light to deepest night
And made a fool a king.
Perhaps it is that Poe was wrong,
That what he said was false and sad;
It seems there is some trace of it,
Some bit of balm in Gilead.
Recollect emotion in tranquility
Is what Wordsworth said to do;
And thus I came (however lame)
To make this poime for you.
I tag Bellezza, Bookfool, Nat, Lotus and Sassymonkey. Oh, what the heck! Anyone who's interested can play!
EDITORIAL NOTE: Apparently, somewhere along the way, part of Cam's meme was lost. (Thanks for bringing this to my attention, Cam!) Here are the remaining questions:
6. My experience with reading poetry differs from my experience with reading other types of literature.....
7. I find poetry.....
8. The last time I heard poetry....
9. I think poetry is like....
THURSDAY THIRTEEN
