excerpts
Poets Media isolates the most poignant, powerful, and exquisitely composed verses and quotes in the universal poetry canon.
Lilacs Blooming
O Captain! My Captain! BY WALT WHITMAN O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You’ve fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales4 years ago in Poets
"Wondrous Works"
Wondrous works, that I see, the vast frame of the heaven and the earth, the order of all things, night and day, summer and winter, spring and autumn, the daily providing for this great household upon the earth, the preserving and directing of all to its proper end. - Anne Bradstreet
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales4 years ago in Poets
While We Are Laughing
John Keats expressed his feelings and thoughts profoundly and deeply to his family and friends. Each idea that presented itself was expounded upon for further clarity to the reader. As I read each letter there were phrases that I highlighted because of their depth of meaning.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales4 years ago in Poets
The Metaphysical Poets
In his essay, "The Metaphysical Poets", T.S. Eliot writes: Our civilization comprehends great variety and complexity, and this variety and complexity, playing upon a refined sensibility, must produce various and complex results. The poet must become more and more comprehensive, more allusive, more indirect, in order to force, to dislocate if necessary, language into his meaning.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales4 years ago in Poets
Wordsworth's Intimations of Immortality:
The Fountain of Youth, the iconic object of all who seek immortality has left many disappointed. This natural wellspring of life, never to be found, leaves humanity questioning its existence. Could these waters be just a symbol of something that already exists? As with all wellsprings, the source is very deep and often difficult to pinpoint. The source of youth and immortality can be found within us. A seed or speck of the divine yet to be discovered or nurtured and matured through this life and all that we experience.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales4 years ago in Poets
'Be Vocal', They Tell You..
...Where the hell have I been? I know its been a miniute since ive had the words together. Ive honestly just figured If i shut the fuck, I would wither away into nothingness-- settle somewhere under a rock, hiding behind classism and trying to figure out if skipping 3 meals in a row is considered Intermitted Fasting. Long story drawn over and over again, I have been into and through the thick of life's transitons and these days-- inspiration feels a lot like a slap to the face. And Yo, Im so pissed! I am inspired. My inspiration knows limited bounds though, I want to do a lot of things, to be a lot of things... and none of them look like the person I have grown to become, or the people Ive introduced myself to along the way. So you know what that means right? This means it is time to reinvent myself. Now this is not a medicine I am unfamilar with. I am most conditioned in Chamillionarie-ism. I change before the wind decides to blow, and before it knows what direction it will retreat in. Im already fucking over "it."That just gives you prespective on how "good" I am at throwing people off and being extrememly unpredictable. When I was a child I would alternate between who I knew myself to be and who I wanted the world to address me as, I will say this has aided in tons of the confusion I have right now regarding my reinvention.
By Eryn. Khristine 4 years ago in Poets
Emily Dickinson
Many years ago, when my children were young and my mother-in-law was living with our family, I was experiencing a great deal of distress and would often lament to my mother the hardships that were my unwelcome companions. After one of my rants, my mother sent me an email with a short note and the lines from Emily Dickinson's poem #138 "To fight aloud, is very brave" (1):
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales4 years ago in Poets
