Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Apr 19, 2013

untitled

little girl,
I saw you staring at the mirror
with a look of scorn.
I saw you studying the other girls
with envy.
I saw the world pulling at you,
pounding into your head
what you are not,
what you should become.
I saw the tearful nights
and I tried to tell you
you were beautiful,
perfect, just the way you are.
but you drowned My voice
with theirs.

Oct 26, 2012

The Day is Done


The day is done, and the darkness

Falls from the wings of Night, 

As a feather is wafted downward

From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village 

Gleam through the rain and the mist, 

And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, 

That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing, 

That is not akin to pain, 

And resembles sorrow only 

As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem, 

Some simple and heartfelt lay, 

That shall soothe this restless feeling, 

And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters, 

Not from the bards sublime, 

Whose distant footsteps echo

Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music, 

Their mighty thoughts suggest

Life's endless toil and endeavor; 

And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet, 

Whose songs gushed from his heart, 

As showers from the clouds of summer, 

Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor, 

And nights devoid of ease,

Still heard in his soul the music 

Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet 

The restless pulse of care, 

And come like the benediction

That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume

The poem of thy choice, 

And lend to the rhyme of the poet 

The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music

And the cares that infest the day, 

Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,

And as silently steal away.

Did you read all that? If you're like me, you probably just skimmed through the poem, only reading the words, not fully understanding them. Well, if you're like me, I suggest you go back and read it again. Letter by letter. Absorb it. Cogitate about it. Digest it. See the images form in your mind. Done? Okay.

This poem is by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and I love it. It's funny because I was never really into poems, only because I thought it was for old and/or melancholy people. That is, until I actually tried reading and writing poetry for school. And now I can say that I am an old and melancholy poetry geek. :P

Anyway, about this specific poem. I like the little part in stanzas seven and eight about the humble poet "who, through long days of labor, and nights devoid of ease, still heard in his soul the music of wonderful melodies." I think he sets a great example. Too many people today have let themselves be weighed down by negativity, and it’s a sad thing because they focus on the bad things around them and miss out on the good things. I wanted to share this poem because it reminded me to appreciate the wonderful things in life and, in doing so, to bless others. It encouraged me a whole lot, and I just hope it encourages you too.

Have a good weekend!

Oct 16, 2012

The Call


{A post in which I attempt the art of poetry.}
{Also, please excuse the lack of images. I think your imaginations would better capture the scene.}


the plummeting drops
grew louder and louder;
we listened for the call.
crash!

faces lit up, we ran to greet
the cool showers.
arms spread out,
eyes laughing,
we ran and ran and ran,
kicking waves of water,
breathing in the chilly air.

 the rain and the thunder
were our orchestra,
the soundtrack to those memories.
our laughter filled the empty streets.
we were innocent.
 we were carefree.

the wind enveloped us;
the cool drops lingered on our skin
until the music faded
and the clouds disappeared.

as the sun shone
on our rain-soaked grins,
we headed back
with smiles that shouted
with a last hurrah,
waiting for the call to sound again.