Blake and Rossetti take radical steps to express how related the feelings of joy and woe are in time and space. In fact, in many places, their poetry subtly suggests that one emotion cannot occur without the other, and that no situation is complete without elements of both emotions.
I lay awake on a freezing night; As cold as an arctic snowstorm, and as dark as a planet with no sun. My eyes were open as wide as a deer's in front of a moving vehicle. There was one thought in my mind, one thought only, the love of my life. Her long silky hair, her smooth, tanned skin, her pristine beauty and her effervescent, godlike personality were all I ever desired; she was as sweet as a honeycomb and as unique as a sparkling snowflake in a vast blizzard. Absolutely immaculate, absolutely flawless was our relationship; or so I thought. There was only one problem, one only; it seemed as though no matter how hard I endeavoured to fulfil her desires, I just couldn't. For I had endured thousands of long
You’re on your knees now, sobbing. How ironic was it that the place you feel in love would be the place you lost it, too. The broken, empty wind brushes you, not to comfort you, but to taunt you and your misery. It felt so much like that dreaded night.
The reason I wrote this poem was because I’ve always heard people compliment how beautiful green, blue, or hazel eyes, but you never hear anyone that compliment someone with dark brown eyes that come across more black than anything. I always thought dark eyes gave someone more mystery to them. Their eyes didn’t darken blue when angry or lighten when happy. They were never embraced as what consider beautiful. Also I kept hearing people say they love someone with green or blue eyes which kinda upset me why dark eyes weren’t good enough. While I was on Instagram I noticed a poem that was complimenting colored
W.H. Auden and Bruce Dawe, in their respective poems ‘Stop All The Clocks’ and ‘Suburban Lovers’, depict two different reactions to love. Auden’s use of an A, A, B, B, rhyme scheme creates rhythm through each of his 4 stanaz. Contrastingly, Dawe uses syllabic rhythm such as “on the fleet diesel that interprets them, like music on a roller-piano as they move, over the rhythmic rails”. Dawe also uses alliteration to create this similar pattern such as “breeze blowing”, “cliff of kissing” and “sandstone sustaining”. Both of these techniques create tone within each poem allowing the reader to reflect the mood of each poem. Auden’s rhyme scheme portrays a tone of sadness and grief in its simple structure and Dawe reflecting a tone of joy and longing
Out of the darkness, rivers of brilliant light and color began to flow all around her, as if a dam holding back a rainbow had miraculously burst. Then she heard the music... a melody so beautiful it tugged at her very soul. It was as if the euphony clothed her in an impenetrable blanket. She felt warm. She felt safe. Uncontrollably, tears welled up, the hymn gripping her heart, and she was forced to squeeze her eyes shut and instinctively her body curled into a protective ball.
This is a very visual poem and as I read it I can picture a flower from spring to autumn. The flower begins as a tiny gold bud, blooms into a flower, and then subsides to a leaf once again.
I wake up in my dark dusty room, the time is 5:30 AM and I go down to the kitchen, eat breakfast and then get dressed. As I walk down the street I feel the cold wind brushing against my face like a dead soul released from its grave and my heart pounds, she gives me a bad feeling but a good one as well, I want more. I turn the corner and there she is, standing beside the park bench with the moon light shining down into her soul. I call her name and she turns around slowly.
A single beam of light shone thru the curtain. The specs of dust in the room danced between the rays, whisked into the air by the pleasant breeze tip toeing thru the screen door. I could feel the warmth on my cheek as I rose from the sheets, thoroughly rested. I briskly got ready, slipping on my tennis shoes, old and worn. Stepping outside, I was greeted by the painfully sweet aroma of sweet pea flowers, entranced by the blissful gleams of sunlight, and spellbound by the familiar screeching of parrots, flocking in clouds of bright vermilion.
Probably out in the city of my dreams, light and stars, everything seemed to be perfect in my eyes. But the truth is, ashes are covered by people’s smiles, secrets, and sweet words. In the bright streets, souls are trying to find their purpose by running with fear and hope. Fear to find their path and to fail, to drown without achieving it. Yet, hope to find their real self that is bury underneath the world of deception. Hope in knowing that there are truths hidden in the
The use of different literary devices such as imagery, symbolism and diction set up a poem that is addictive to read! Once it is started, it’s hard to stop. This poem offers a welcoming story for our reader to enjoy.
If I should stay, I'll only be in your way, so I'll go, but I know I'll think of you every step of the way. Now everybody asks me why I'm smiling out from ear to ear. They say love hurts but I know It's gonna take a little work Nothing's perfect, but it's worth it after fighting through my tears this is the year for new beginning. The authors of the poems, “A Simile” and “Moon Rondeau” compare the steps of a relationship by using symbolism, analogy and imagery.
You've been stolen away from me and I feel a bitter, metallic aftertaste, like aged blood. And all I wish for is that when shooting stars erupt in the skies the sound of your name will forever disappear from my mind. The deep and desperate metronome of a tiny, bony heart pierced the silence in the room. The sounds of its erratic beating, drilled into my ears, deeper and deeper.
poem. The way the poem reads as sentences but there is a hidden rhyme scheme shows
My day begins again with a drone of the same ringtone of the alarm. Getting up to open the window forgetting about the same old raven bird that stares at me with its whole black eyes sending you into a black spiral. The sense of nostalgia hits, rain leaves its own scent like the scent of an ex-lover’s. After all eternity doesn’t wait for the past to catch up, you just keep on going with your life as I have. Making my way to the kitchen I avoid all the papers on the floor scattered like a tornado threw up and shredded its life. My hands twitches to grab the phone eager to check for the ghost messages and calls. Putting down my arm as soons as it raises “don’t do it”. I turn in circles to find someone but in its leave was nothing. “ I know” I whispered to no one. The hallway was filled with darkness except for one room whose light was slowly dimming. Darting past the shadowed hands reaching for me I went into the room. Searching for that dark grey raincoat that was hung up on a hanger in the half empty closet.