Poetry

My Polar Star by Rabindranath Tagore

 in Poetry by

Something a little spiritual for today’s poem.

My Polar Star

I have made You the polar star of my
existence; never again can I lose my way in the
voyage of life.

Wherever I go, You are always there to
shower your benefience all around me. Your face
is ever present before my mind’s eyes.

If I lose sight of You even for a moment, I
almost lost my mind.

Whenever my heart is about to go astray, just
a glance of You makes it feel ashamed of itself.

~~ Rabindranath Tagore

 

For further information on this wonderful poet (the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize for Literature) you can read more HERE.



    

    
                                    

                                
                                                            
                                                                    

                                        
    

              

          
What is a Sonnet?
  in  Poetry   by  
        

        
Some of my readers may be asking themselves, “Well she is posting things about poetry month, why now is there a sonnet?” Some of you, my dear readers, may not know what a sonnet actually is. A lot of people attribute Sonnet’s with Shakespeare. They think it was just something he used in his play’s. While yes, he did disperse them through his plays, they also are a form of poetry.


sonnet |ˈsänit|

noun

a poem of fourteen lines using any of a number of formal rhyme schemes, in English typically having ten syllables per line.


Sonnets are written in a…


a b a b

c d c d

e f e f

g g


format.


(A)Two households, both alike in dignity,

(B)In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

(A)From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

(B)Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

(C)From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

(D)A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;

(C)Whose misadventured piteous overthrows

(D)Do with their death bury their parents’ strife.

(E)The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love,

(F)And the continuance of their parents’ rage,

(E)Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove,

(F)Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage;

(G)The which if you with patient ears attend,

(G)What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.


The letters which match (A,A – B,B – etc) will rhyme at the end. Like A and A, dignity and mutiny – lines B and B – scene, unclean – et cetera, et cetera.


Now hopefully you have learned something of interest and will be all the wiser.


    

    
                                    

                                
                                                            
                                                                    

                                        
    

              

          
Prologue to Romeo and Juliet
  in  Poetry   by  
        

        
I just finished reading Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare (duh.) Who knew it was such a beautiful and amazing book.


Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;

Whole misadventured piteous overthrows

Do with their death bury their parents’ strife.

The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love,

And the continuance of their parents’ rage,

Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove,

Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage;

The which if you with patient ears attend,

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.









    

    
                                    

                                
                                                            
                                                                    

                                        
    

              

          
The Spring by Thomas Carew
  in  Fun  /  Poetry   by  
        

        
Spring has sprung, now poems have begun.




The Spring by Thomas Carew


Now that the winter’s gone, the earth hath lost


Her snow-white robes, and now no more the frost


Candies the grass, or casts an icy cream


Upon the silver lake or crystal stream;


But the warm sun thaws the benumbed earth,


And makes it tender; gives a sacred birth


To the dead swallow; wakes in hollow tree


The drowsy cuckoo, and the humble-bee.


Now do a choir of chirping minstrels bring


In triumph to the world the youthful Spring.


The valleys, hills, and woods in rich array


Welcome the coming of the long’d-for May.


Now all things smile, only my love doth lour;


Nor hath the scalding noonday sun the power


To melt that marble ice, which still doth hold


Her heart congeal’d, and makes her pity cold.


The ox, which lately did for shelter fly


Into the stall, doth now securely lie


In open fields; and love no more is made


By the fireside, but in the cooler shade


Amyntas now doth with his Chloris sleep


Under a sycamore, and all things keep


Time with the season; only she doth carry


June in her eyes, in her heart January








    

    
                                    

                                
                                                            
                                                                    

                                        
    

              

          
April is a Month of Poems
  in  Interesting  /  Poetry   by  
        

        
April is poetry month so you can expect to be seeing some awesome and interesting poems this month. Hopefully, if you love to read, you will know some of the poems.


Let Poetry Month begin.






Ars Poetica by Archibald MacLeish


    

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      A poem should be palpable and mute
    

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      As a globed fruit,
    

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Dumb

As old medallions to the thumb,


Silent as the sleeve-worn stone

Of casement ledges where the moss has grown–


A poem should be wordless

As the flight of birds.


    

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      A poem should be motionless in time
    

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      As the moon climbs,
    

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Leaving, as the moon releases

Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,


Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves.

Memory by memory the mind–


A poem should be motionless in time

As the moon climbs.


    

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      A poem should be equal to:
    

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      Not true.
    

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For all the history of grief

An empty doorway and a maple leaf.


For love

The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea–


A poem should not mean

But be.