Am writing again ! Feels good. Had become kinda rusty. Anyway, as I’m trying to fathom what in Lord’s name is going to be the theme of this post that I’m going to, well, post, I can’t help but think what made me want to write again. I think I’ve always wanted to write. Back when I was all of 10 years old a classmate of mine had told me that she just knew I was going to grow up to be a writer. I believed her. I mean, why wouldn’t I ? She seemed to be very sure about it and I’m sure she had put a lot of thought into it. After all, we shared food every lunch break. That had to stand for something. Anyway, I haven’t been in touch with her for a long time now. And I’m sure she doesn’t even remember about this little incident that has stuck with me over the years. So that brings me back to the original thread of thought, what made put down my thoughts so.
I guess I always wanted to be thought of as a person who manufactures beautiful pieces of prose. But, I’m rambling now. All I want to say is that people ought to keep doing what they love. I'm sure it will give them a safe haven where they can take refuge from life's vagaries. Atleast, that's what it does for me !
Well, enough of thinking of a theme. I'll wait till an epiphany comes. Till then, keep doing what you love to (but, don't wake me up, I'm really sleepy :-) ).And,don't listen to my preaching.
Fare ye well.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Words Of The Bard
Poetry is something inexpicably beautiful. It may be seen in an exchange between two people. In a blossoming flower. In a sunset. Or in some rhyming words written by us human beings. Some might say that poetry is not for everyone. That it is something that one must have prior inclination towards. But, for each one of us, there must be some poem in some language that will touch our hearts and speak to our souls. It is a pity,then, that most of us learn some poetry in school beacuse we have to only to leave those words in some far corner of our memory, remembering them rarely.
Come to think of it, some of the most touching poems are those written by men for the ones they love. I came across such a creation by Robert Burns, named (quite aptly) A Red Rose.
O, my love is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my love is like the melodie,
That's sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonny lass,
So deep in love am I,
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till all the seas gang dry.
Till all the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
I will love the still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run:
And fare thee well, my only love!
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my love,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.
A beautiful poem full of passion where the poet speaks of his love for his lady. I'm sure even today women will appreciate poetry such as this :-)
Or maybe not. I always thought our very own Shakespeare was much ahead of his time. In an era where men were busy comparing their ladies' eyes to the sun and her lips to the red of the rose, he broke the monotony with a sonnet that gladdens my heart. In this sonnet he does away with false comparisons and speaks his mind.
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red, than her lips red:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
I grant I never saw a goddess go,
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare,
As any she belied with false compare.
Not very flattering, is it ? I'm sure the any girl would be furious before she reached the end. But if she were patient enough to reach the last two lines, my bet is that she'll be floored :-)
There are so many other poems that have stayed with me through the years. One of my favourite of course, is Daffodils by William Wordsworth (http://www.blupete.com/Literature/Poetry/WordsworthDaffodils.htm). A simple poem about nature, it has always acted as a pick-me-up when I was sad. Or the very energetic, The Charge of the Light Brigade by Lord Tennyson (http://poetry.eserver.org/light-brigade.html) . Coming back to romance, we have Lochinvar (http://homepages.wmich.edu/~cooneys/poems/Scott.Lochinvar.html) and The Highwayman (http://www.potw.org/archive/potw85.html) . There are so many more that need honourable mention, like The Solitary Reaper by Wordsworth again or the mysterious The Listeners by Walter de la Mare.The famous Stopping by Woods by Frost and Tiger by Blake. Or even the funny Macavity : The Mystery Cat. :-)
So many beautiful pieces of poetry. And so much more to read. What better way to end this post than with the words of Frost
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Come to think of it, some of the most touching poems are those written by men for the ones they love. I came across such a creation by Robert Burns, named (quite aptly) A Red Rose.
O, my love is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my love is like the melodie,
That's sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonny lass,
So deep in love am I,
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till all the seas gang dry.
Till all the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
I will love the still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run:
And fare thee well, my only love!
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my love,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.
A beautiful poem full of passion where the poet speaks of his love for his lady. I'm sure even today women will appreciate poetry such as this :-)
Or maybe not. I always thought our very own Shakespeare was much ahead of his time. In an era where men were busy comparing their ladies' eyes to the sun and her lips to the red of the rose, he broke the monotony with a sonnet that gladdens my heart. In this sonnet he does away with false comparisons and speaks his mind.
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red, than her lips red:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
I grant I never saw a goddess go,
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare,
As any she belied with false compare.
Not very flattering, is it ? I'm sure the any girl would be furious before she reached the end. But if she were patient enough to reach the last two lines, my bet is that she'll be floored :-)
There are so many other poems that have stayed with me through the years. One of my favourite of course, is Daffodils by William Wordsworth (http://www.blupete.com/Literature/Poetry/WordsworthDaffodils.htm). A simple poem about nature, it has always acted as a pick-me-up when I was sad. Or the very energetic, The Charge of the Light Brigade by Lord Tennyson (http://poetry.eserver.org/light-brigade.html) . Coming back to romance, we have Lochinvar (http://homepages.wmich.edu/~cooneys/poems/Scott.Lochinvar.html) and The Highwayman (http://www.potw.org/archive/potw85.html) . There are so many more that need honourable mention, like The Solitary Reaper by Wordsworth again or the mysterious The Listeners by Walter de la Mare.The famous Stopping by Woods by Frost and Tiger by Blake. Or even the funny Macavity : The Mystery Cat. :-)
So many beautiful pieces of poetry. And so much more to read. What better way to end this post than with the words of Frost
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
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