Friday Poetry: Yeats

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has some good books planned for the weekend.

Yesterday I went to Cosford Royal Air Force Museum, I do enjoy looking at all the planes through history and I remembered this poem so thought I would share it with you all.

This weeks poem is by W.B. Yeats. Yeats wrote this poem in 1918 towards the end of the Great War.

 

An Irish Airman Foresees his Death

I know that I shall meet my fate

Somewhere among the clouds above;

Those that I fight I do not hate,

Those that I guard I do not love;

My country is Kiltartan Cross

My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,

No likely end could bring them loss

Or leave them happier than before.

Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,

Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,

A lonely impulse of delight

Drove to this tumult in the clouds;

I balanced all, brought all to mind,

The years to come seemed waste of breath,

A waste of breath the years behind

In balance with this life, this death.

 

W. B. Yeats

Yeats_Boughton.jpg

 

Happy reading.

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Friday Poetry: A. E. Housman

Happy Friday!

This weekend there are a lot of Remembrance services and parades happening so I have chosen a poem by Housman who wrote some of his most famous poetry during the Great War. This poem helps remind me just how young so many of the soldiers were.

 

Here Dead We Lie 

 

Here dead we lie

Because we did not choose

To live and shame the land

From which we sprung.

 

 

Life, to be sure,

Is nothing much to lose,

But young men think it is,

And we were young.

 

A. E. Housman

 

Happy reading.

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Friday Poetry: Coleridge

Happy November!

This poem is from The Devil’s Thoughts by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 

 

The Devil’s Thoughts

From his brimstone bed at break of day

A walking the Devil is gone,

To visit his little snug farm the earth,

And see how his stock goes on.

 

Over the hill and over the dale,

And he went over the plain,

And backward and forward he switched his long tail

As a gentleman switches his cane.

 

And how then was the Devil drest?

Oh! he was in his Sunday’s best:

His jacket was red and his breeches were blue,

And there was a hole where the tail came through.

 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge 

 

Happy reading.

 

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Friday Poetry: Christina Rossetti

Happy Friday!

So I have again returned to an old favourite of mine. I really can not get enough of Christina Rossetti’s poetry. To be honest I am getting really fed up of all this rain we have been having recently, so I have gone for a poem about the wind, as to me this would be a nice change.

 

Who Has Seen the Wind?

Who has seen the wind?

Neither I nor you:

But when the leaves hang trembling,

The wind is passing thro’.

 

Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I:

But when the trees bow down their heads,

The wind is passing by.

 

Christina Rossetti

 

Happy Reading

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Friday Poetry: Margaret Wise Brown

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has exciting plans for the weekend. My chosen poem this Friday is by an American author Margaret Wise Brown (May 23, 1910 – November 13, 1952). Brown wrote children’s books and poetry.

 

The Secret Song

Who saw the petals

drop from the rose?

I, said the spider,

But nobody knows.

 

Who saw the sunset

flash on a bird?

I, said the fish,

But nobody heard.

 

Who saw the fog

come over the sea?

I, said the sea pigeon,

Only me.

 

Who saw the first

green light of the sun?

I, said the night owl,

The only one.

 

Who saw the moss

creep over the stone?

I, said the grey fox,

All alone.

 

 

Margaret Wise Brown

 

Happy reading.

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Friday Poetry: Pamela Mordecai

Happy Friday!

Today’s poem has a different take on things, instead of focusing on Christopher Columbus discovering America, it focuses on the people who lost their lands.

Lament of an Arawak Child

 

Once I played with the hummingbirds

and sang songs to the sea

I told my secrets to the waves

and they told theirs to me.

Now there are no more hummingbirds

the sea’s songs are all sad

for strange men came and took this land

and plundered all we had.

They made my people into slaves

they worked us to the bone

they battered us and tortured us

and laughed to hear us groan.

Today we’ll take a long canoe

and set sail on the sea

we’ll steer our journey by the stars

and find a new country.

 

Pamela Mordecai

 

Happy Reading

 

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Friday Poetry: Eve Merriam

Happy Friday!

I hope you all have a fantastic weekend planned.

Today’s poem is by a new poet for me, Eve Merriam. Eve Merriam was an American poet and writer.

 

Thumbprint

On the pad of my thumb

are whorls, whirls, wheels

in a unique design:

mine alone.

What a treasure to own!

My own flesh, my own feelings.

No other, however grand or base,

can ever contain the same.

My signature,

thumbing the pages of my time.

My universe key,

my singularity.

Impress, implant,

I am myself,

of all my atom parts I am the sum.

And out of my blood and my brain

I make my own interior weather,

my own sun and rain.

Imprint my mark upon the world

whatever I shall become.

 

Eve Merriam

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