A Short Post: Me Me Diary

I have gotten asked once or twice to post some of my own poetry, so here it is. Relevant/important? No. Entertaining? I should hope so.


 Here is a quick four line poem I wrote at about this time last year I think. It's not much , but it isn't too bad.

 A shadow falls on still brown grass
A season draws it's final breath
Through the trees the sun will fall
 A golden kiss to winter's death


The second is a limerick I wrote some time ago for a fictional character (Szayel Apporo-Grantz) from the manga Bleach. If you have not read Bleach, I do recommend it, but if it isn't your thing, please just ignore this.

Note: I don't mean to offend anyone with this, and it is neither canon nor does it express my views on the sexual orientation of either Szayel or Aizen. I just liked the rhymes.

Szayel's Limerick
I'm telling you, I'm strait!
Pink hair is a natural trait!
It's hot off the press,
See my manliness…
Oh dear, Aizen's late for our date.


 If you liked reading any of my poetry, please tell me and I may try doing this again. Likewise, if you disliked it, please tell me.

This Time

Here I thought I'd take a brief look at how "time" is personified in poetry. Some of the poems only have about one line about time, but seeing as I don't want to make this incredibly long and boring I'll probably only post two or three poems.

Let It Be Forgotten

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold, Let it be forgotten forever and ever, Time is a kind friend, he will make us old. If anyone asks, say it was forgotten Long and long ago, As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall In a long-forgotten snow. -Sara Teasdale Time is only mentioned once in this poem, but that one line makes an impact. Part of what I like about it is the fact that the author considers that time making her old is "kind", whereas in many writings time and aging are considered enemies instead of friends.              The Years   To-night I close my eyes and see A strange procession passing me-- The years before I saw your face Go by me with a wistful grace; They pass, the sensitive, shy years, As one who strives to dance, half blind with tears. The years went by and never knew That each one brought me nearer you; Their path was narrow and apart And yet it led me to your heart-- Oh, sensitive, shy years, oh, lonely years, That strove to sing with voices drowned in tears. -Sara Teasdale Although this poem does not use the actual word "time", I figured that personification of years is fairly close. This poem creates a bit of an odd picture, conjuring the image of "years" almost as a procession of people. These "years" are described as sensitive and shy, walking along in tears in a parade past the poet. I have never heard years described in this manner before, so it made me take notice of it. P.S. The reason there are no pictures with these posts is that my computer apparently has objections to letting me put anything on this site. P.P.S I realize that a lot of the posts are Sara Teasdale poems, so my apologies if you don't like them. They have worked well so far, but I will be trying to use more of the work of other poets as well.

Sara Teasdale

In this post at least, I may actually do something similar to what I said in the introduction. I've read some of the poetry of Sara Teasdale, an American poet who lived from 1884-1933. Although not exactly recent, her poems haven't lost anything in time, and they have the added bonus of being in a language that is easy to comprehend. Here I will post a few of her poems that I like and perhaps why I like them, and maybe a bit of other stuff along with that.

April
The roofs are shining from the rain, The sparrows twitter as they fly, And with a windy April grace The little clouds go by. Yet the back-yards are bare and brown With only one unchanging tree -- I could not be so sure of spring Save that it sings in me.

I like this poem for several reasons. The first is that it fits very well with the season right now. That, in my opinion, is one of the benefits of poetry about nature. All these years later, you can look outside and see the things described in a poem. Secondly, the feel of this poem is nice. Particularly, something about the last line brings the poem to a close perfectly, and gives a pleasant feeling. All in all, a quiet but happy poem.

I Shall Not Care

When I am dead and over me bright April Shakes out her rain-drenched hair, Though you shall lean above me broken-hearted, I shall not care. I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough; And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted Than you are now. What I like about this poem is a little harder to pin down. I stands in contrast to the last poem, and maybe it's the contrast I like, but the feel of this poem is quite different. The imagery in the first two lines of the last half has a particular impact, and I suppose that that, along with the general feel of the poem, is why I like it.

The Eye of the Tiger

Here again is a kind of post I wasn't expecting. This poem was apparently inspired by the song Eye of the Tiger (and it's an acrostic. Yay!):




 T ime is short, he is fighting
 I n him lives the dream that will not die
G rowing stronger each day
E very word that glory whispers is a lie
R ising tall, he will survive 

-Anonymous

Spring

Today I have decided to try something that I didn't mention in the introduction: finding a variety of poems for just one thing. With spring approaching, I have decided to collect various poems about said season, or ones that somehow remind me of spring (and to make it more interesting, I have decided to get only haikus). Anyway, here are the poems:

Yes, spring has come
This morning a nameless hill
Is shrouded in mist
-Basho   (This poem is only the interpretation of one translator, as the original is in Japanese)

My spring is just this:
A single bamboo shoot,
A willow branch
-Issa       (This, too, is translated)

Fresh young leaves
The sound of a waterfall
Both far and near
-Buson   (More translation)

Morning mist speaks of
Life hidden beneath dark soil
Awaiting first rain
-Anonymous

Intro

Hi,
Pleased to meet you and hello. M here. This is just an introduction to what I'm hoping this blog is going to be, so please don't mind the rambling. Also, I have Safety Dance stuck in my head and it's making thinking very difficult. Anyway, I plan to post poems that I've found and like on this blog, and probably share my thoughts on them, a bit about the poets, and maybe a few poems that I've written. I don't have strict criteria for the poems I find, basically just anything I enjoy. Poems that make me think, smile, laugh, whatever. At any rate, I hope you enjoy these poems, and maybe comment about your opinions or poems you like or have written. Well, until next time,
-M