Ya heard?!
As a follow up to my earlier blog today, tonights class went well. I regret not choosing a poem I liked more because I would have had more fun with it and acted more. I love this class because everyone in it is so fun and cool. Its easy to say what you want to say and not feel weird about it.
In turn this leads me to make a bold statement: This is the coolest group of people I've had the honor of learning with :-D
I think that poetry should be stressed more in elementary and high school english classes. I think all varieties should be exhibited as well. Its stupid to only showcase Frost and Cummings. Poets like Maya Angelou and unknown poets should be celebrated. I know that most students dread poetry and I think it is for the reason that all studied poetry deals with 100 year old subjects. To raise interest in poetry, a raised level of acceptance has to be shown to poetry.
I think that haiku may be my favorite type of poetry to read because it is normally full of wisdom and wit. I remember being in grade school and writing a haiku about my missing cat. Good times.
more later
Ahh poetry...brings back many a dreaded high school english lessons but tonight I will attempt to conquer it once and for all.
I have chosen the poems "If I Were Rich, Little Girl" and "Love's Philosophy" by Richard Le Gallienne. I've decided to post them both on here as well.
IF I WERE RICH, LITTLE GIRL
By Richard Le Gallienne
If I were rich, little girl, little girl,
I’d build you a castle of all pearl,
With towers that touched the tip of the moon;
Girded about with a sea-like tune
Of forests black with the star-kissed pine;
And I should be yours and you should be mine
For ever and ever, week in-week out;
And in the forests beasts should range,
Unicorns
With gilded horns,
And other monsters fierce and strange,
To keep the vulgar out.
And we should ponder all the day
On the blue lotus in the moat,
Or hear the hidden minstrels play
On strings of gold;
Or some slim lad with honeyed throat
Should sing and say,
After the old Provençal way,
Our love that never can grow old;
Or in the scutcheoned chapel pray—
If I were rich; ah! well-a-day.
And, when the evening star began
To trim its silver lamp on high,
Beloved of God, forgot of man,
Up many a happy winding stair,
We’d laughing run,
And watch the sinking of the sun,
And the wide meadows of the air
Filling with flowers—
And kiss and turn away and sigh;
Till east and west and north and south
Were nought but darkness and your mouth- -
While eagles on the topmost towers
Guarded us from the sky.
If I were rich, little girl, -- said I.
LOVE’S PHILOSOPHY
Ah! Sweetheart, seek not to explain
Why grass is green and skies are blue,
Nor mar, with small enquiring brain,
What wiser heads than I and you
Pondered, yet fathomed not – tis best
To marvel, and to leave the rest.
To worship, not to comprehend,
You are as lovely as you are;
And so it is, enchanted friend,
With water-lily and with star;
And- Love, what means it? Ask as soon
The meaning of the rising moon.
O is it not enough to draw
This breath of being, you and I,
Girt round with loveliness and awe?
Why should we ask the reason why?
The gods gave us this summer day
To love in- not explain away.
O lips as red as yonder rose,
I kiss and question not- content;
Nor spoil such poesy with prose
Of what the high immortals meant-
To pack with such mysterious bliss
The simple action of a kiss.
Nor why this fury of delight,
Blent so with pathos and with pain.
Ah! love, too soon draws on the night,
Kiss – lest we never kiss again!
I cannot tell the reason why,
But I shall love you till I die.