Poetry Wednesday:the last one

I'm afraid this will be the very last Poetry Wednesday

as this is the very last week of my poetry class.

Sadness.

I know.

So I think it proper that it end in the beginning.

With one of my most favorite childhood poems. 

Enjoy.

 *photo via

The Swing

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside--

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown--
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down! 

-Robert Louis Stevenson

poetry Wednesday: as seen on a blog

So my poetry class

actually got canceled this week

which was happy 

because I got to sleep in

but sad because I'm not brimming with

amazing poems to share.

However, conveniently

one of my favorite blogs

Naturally Nina

had a post this week

with a beautiful poem

by e.e. Cummings.

You should definitely check it out

HERE

Poetry Wendesday

I really like this one. 

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.

-Elizabeth Bishop

Poetry Wednesday: dreaming of spring

I'm not sure how much

longer I can wait patiently

for spring to come.

The snow is all melted

and theres beautiful 

sunny blue skies

and yet it is still cold.

So here I am dreaming 

of warmer days

of wearing dresses without tights

and of doing homework in the grass.

This week's poem is fittingly carefree.

Hope it reminds you of childhood days

when coats are finally hung away

and feet run bare through green grass.

Daffodowndilly
She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbour:
"Winter is dead."

-A.A. Milne

places I'd rather be: Poetry Wednesday

 

*picture via you are my fave

Yes, I'm fabulous,

even the Poetry Wednesday 

is somewhere I'd definitely

rather be. 

The House Was Quiet And The World Was Calm

The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night

Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.

The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,

Wanted to lean, wanted much to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom

The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.

The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.

And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself

Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.

-Wallace Stevens

Doesn't that sound 

just so 

perfect.   

poetry Wednesday: short but sweet?

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water

beside the white

chickens.

-William Carlos Williams

What do you think of this poem? 

I thought it was interesting.

In some ways it's a bit silly

almost like a cheap trick or joke,

but then again,

isn't there something beautiful

about something as simple as

a red wheel barrow?

Poetry Wednesdays

I don't know about you, but when Wednsday rolls around

all I can think about is the weekend 

and it becomes almost impossible to stay focused. 

So, in an effort to stay focused and overcome midweek disillusionment

I am instituting poetry Wednesdays as a way to encounter something beautiful

even if only for a moment. 

Also, I'm taking a poetry class this semester. 

Today, I'm starting with my all time favorite poem. It may not be the most life changing poem or one with the most meaningful meter, but it makes me smile. 

 The Rainy Day

 The day is cold, and dark, and dreary

It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It   rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Have an inspired Wednesday!