Posts Tagged ‘poem’
This upload was made possible thanks to YouTuber HughJason who kindly put this recording at my disposal
Video Rating: 4 / 5
Question by Hal Atosis: In the poem by John Keats, “Ode to a Grecian Urn” the two lovers are inches away from a kiss but forever?
frozen in time, never aging and never getting nearer. What moment in time would you freeze from your life?
Best answer:
Answer by FRATH™ *3rd account*
I would freeze this moment of my life through which I’m passing through
I read “Ode to a Grecian Urn” last week and I loved it
What do you think? Answer below!
Question by d4rkr4v3n77: I am doing reserch on the poem “When I have fears” By “John Keats”What can you tell me about this poem?
What can you tell me about the author? What can you tell me about the time period? Anything you can tell me about this will help me thank you for your time!
Best answer:
Answer by atlanta
Hi
I did a paper on Keats while at school. I have always been fond of his work, we had to memorize his poems and recite them in class. One of the world’s greatest poets. Below is the poem ‘When I have Fears’ by John Keats written in 1818 a meaning of the poem, and a slice n dice edited version on him and his time
When I Have Fears
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain,
Before high piled books, in charact’ry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen’d grain;
When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love!-then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
The first quatrain expresses he fears he may die before he has written all the poems that he wants to. In the second quatrain he fears he may never trace all the “high romance” In the third quatrain he addresses a woman whom he breifly met and thinks he might not experience true love.Finally, he sees himself alone on the shores of the whole world with all his desires erased from his mind.
John Keats
He was an English Romantic poet born October 31, 1795, in London. The oldest of four children, he lost both his parents at a young age. His father was a livery-stable keeper, and died when Keats was eight; his mother died of tuberculosis six years later. His grandmother was too old to look after him so she appointed him to guardianship. The guardians took him out of school and placed him to apprentice and study medicine in a London Hospital. In 1816 Keats became a licensed apothecary, but he never practiced his profession, because he didn’t like it, he decided to write poetry.instead. Around this time, he met Percy Bysshe Shelley and William Wordsworth who helped Keats with his first volume in 1817. Shelley, privately disliked Keats and exaggerated some criticism with negative reviews, attributing to Keats declining health.
In 1818 while nursing his brother with tuberculosis, Keats met and fell in love with a woman named Fanny Brawne whom I beleive the poem is about.. Writing some of his finest poetry between 1818 and 1819, Keats stopped writing after the death of his brother, but in late 1819 he returned to his work piece and rewrote “The Fall of Hyperion” (unpublished until 1856). That same autumn Keats contracted tuberculosis, and by the following February he knew he didn’t have much time left.
In July 1820, he published his third and best volume of poetry, dealing with mythical and legendary themes of ancient, medieval, and Renaissance times
“Hyperion” was considered by Keats’s contemporaries to be his greatest achievement, but by that time he had reached an advanced stage of his disease and was too ill to be encouraged. So he continued to write Fanny Brawne with hope of re-uniting but the mother prevented them from getting married because Keats was so sick, He then went to Rome with his painter friend Joseph Severn because the doctor ordered him to seek warmer climate for his health. He died there on February 23, 1821, at the age of twenty-five, and was buried in the Protestant cemetery. Pretty sad, isn’t it. The full version with names and dates and titles are on the links below. Next time, it’s your turn.
I have edited it for you, my nutshell view. there is more in the links below.
Know better? Leave your own answer in the comments!
Question by kim: I got some questions about poem “To a mouse-by Robert Burns”?
1.For what reason does the speak opologize to the mouse?
2.why does the speaker say that, compared with him, the mouse is blessed?
Best answer:
Answer by tawaen
You should post the poem. I’m can’t recall it off the top of my head. 
Know better? Leave your own answer in the comments!
Some cool Dylan Thomas images:
In My Craft or Sullen Art (Dylan Thomas) – Knit a Poem (The Poetry Society), at the British Library
Image by chrisjohnbeckett
View On Black
In My Craft or Sullen Art
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labor by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.
Dylan Thomas.
www.poetrysociety.org.uk/content/knit/
news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/london/8295218.stm
During October whilst the clouds whistled through
My heart ran like black stallions across golden plains
Their hooves floating amidst flowers made rich of hue
Pink petals strumming their magnificent twirling manes
Our hands conjoin icy blue diamond rings winking
From where the Sun’s passionate gaze pierces its soul
Our voices with so much passion now forever singing
Running through these fields where dragon flies lull
How can love like ours be so mysterious yet daunting?
That makes us masters of our romantic destinies
Our past ghosts fleeting within memories so haunting
Must rest amongst grave yards forgiving twinkling seas
My knees are heavy whilst my breath remains calm
Gazing into your light deep-set brown eyes weeping
Such loving persuasion eagerly awaits within my palm
My mind twirling like nervous coins silently leaping
Forward into a magical ocean of courageous aspiration
This old superstition, “Luck, bestowed only upon fools”
Your face glowing like yellow candle-light burning elation
“Yes!” I jump for joy ignoring as gravity pushes and pulls
My physicality symbolizes mortality amongst immortals
Whilst this bitter entity brings me slowly down to earth
Distant sound of bees humming our tune silently chortles
My heart elaborating upon happiness from ashes rebirth
My beating heart spinning, one floating world of its own
While we roll around in the fields kissing and laughing
Where bountiful flowers carrying pollen of love are known
Holding your hand running, “My love, where art thou going?”
My fingers lightly press against your lips, “Let love show you”
Your amber hair flowing like mermaids against the obscure sky
Wherein we come upon a lake, therein lies a boat just for you
I take your hand, “Gentle now,” white full moon drifting nigh
My arms rowing, paddles rippling across stilled quiet waters
Your smile gleaming rich of wondrous desire and loving care
Shimmering bars swim across waves moonlight’s daughters
Breath held, “I know nothing of a kiss, yet shall we share?”
The paddles fall against the boat’s wooden carcass with a thud
Angels speak, “true passion for love never expiates”
Crickets chirping within the wound of the howling wind
Green frogs croaking and sitting upon soft dinner plates
My hands like pick axes mining what they hope to find
Golden breasts, so tender and lonesome, needing attention
Curiosity for thirsting to know their secretive desires
A magician for love, yet again, disappearing contention
Our tongues clash and dance around romantic fires
The boat is rocking and tipping and mocking our joy
You grab my arms, clenching tight, suddenly, splash!
We both fall into the cool water, scattering orange coy
We laugh and giggle and climb reluctantly into the boat
The horizon painted the river pinkish-red, “What a view”
I posted this poem a long time ago but since then I have obtained newer YA friends so Ill put it up for them and those who have not seen it. Thanks for your reviews=]
Just something I wrote in my spare time
during my history class at school, last year.
Hope you liked it=]
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I am going to write another long poem.
This is one of my longer ones.
But recently I have been taking walks
in the park going out and writing little
tabs of inspiration to be used for my
next long one. POst it soon.
Again thanks!!!
