April 28, 2004

Wednesday Is Poetry Day

Wednesday being poetry day here, i think the perfectly appropriate selection in light of my current dillema is this one, the most famous poem about dillemas:


The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The beauty of this poem, which might be Frost's best known, is the deliberate lack of resolution in the final line. Just like with life.

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April 21, 2004

Wednesday Is Poetry Day

i'm going to try to make Wednesday poetry day here on annika's journal. A great way to start is with my favorite male poet, William Carlos Williams, and a poem relevant to today:


Peace on Earth

The archer is wake!
The Swan is flying!
Gold against blue
An Arrow is lying.
There is hunting in heaven—
Sleep safe till tomorrow.

The Bears are abroad!
The Eagle is screaming!
Gold against blue
Their eyes are gleaming!
Sleep!
Sleep safe till tomorrow.

The Sisters lie
With their arms intertwining;
Gold against blue
Their hair is shining!
The Serpent writhes!
Orion is listening!

Gold against blue
His sword is glistening!
Sleep!
There is hunting in heaven—
Sleep safe till tomorrow.


Take what you want from that poem; that's what poetry is all about. To me it's a wish that you and i will continue to sleep safe while the battle between good and evil goes on around us, whether we're aware of it or not.

Posted by: annika at 10:35 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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April 13, 2004

Behold! For a Giant yet walks the earth

i thought tonight might be an appropriate night to re-post my one and only baseball related sonnet:



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Behold! For a Giant yet walks the earth.
With shoulders of rock, striding forth he wields
Thirty-two ounce, thirty-four inches girth
Maple Excalibur, from which he deals
Four hundred foot jacks, right side of the plate
Six-sixty-one homers, five hundred base steals;
Never swings early, nor ever swings late,
Inside the box hit, outside the box wait.
He cares not for me, and cares not for you
Cares not a whit for the bat when heÂ’s through,
And straightening up, and seeing the view
Watches the ball fly until itÂ’s a dot,
And then, only then, begins he his trot
Don’t say to him “bring it” – it will be brought!



More: The very prolific Scorebard says it in haiku.

Posted by: annika at 09:41 PM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
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April 09, 2004

Poem i Found

i'm not too crazy about gimmicky poems that look funky on the page. i guess it's the lingering effects of trying to decipher too much e.e. cummings in school. But here's one i found via Ivy is here, which i really like a lot.

Click here to read Sunday Morning from the blog Watermark.

Posted by: annika at 09:21 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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April 07, 2004

Happy Birthday William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth was born on this day in 1770. In honor of his birthday, here's one of my favorites:

      Daffodils

I wander'd 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 stretch'd 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.
Pretty, isn't it?

Posted by: annika at 10:17 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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