Category Archives: Poetry

Happy World Poetry Day 2016! 

 

Hey guys! 

Today is World Poetry Day and there’s nothing I’d like to do more than celebrate with you all by sharing some amazing and inspirational quotes about poetry. Images are from Google for this post! Thanks Google. 

Poetry brings us all together. It enables people to feel like we are all experiencing and living through similar events and emotions. It has a habit of unifying us all together. 

  

The aim of today is to promote the reading, writing, publishing and teaching of poetry. Speaking as a teacher myself, I’m currently teaching Poetry From Other Cultures to my Year 8s and heavily promoting independent discovery and reading of poetry. There’s nothing more exciting than opening another world to them. We have a map on the wall, and we are pinning the different countries where the poems are from. Yet, we have learnt that the themes impact everyone, regardless of country. The language moves us to tap into our own emotions. 

  

Poetry is ever changing. Whilst perusing the internet today, I stumbled across an article about Robert Montgomery. He has been putting the written word out in a variety of physical public places in the form of poetry. This has become so popular, many are wanting his written word as tattoos. I found this image below. For some reason, deep within myself, this quote appealed to me. 

  

This is just one example of how poetry is being placed into the public eye in our own generation. Naturally, some won’t wish to have poetry so visibly in their eyesight. But, what we do need to acknowledge is the power of the written word. It can change your mood in an instant and it can ease some of the pain we may feel. 

  

To celebrate my love for World Poetry Day, I wanted to share with you one of my favourite poems. It makes me cry every time. It’s by Oscar Wilde. He wrote it during his time in prison for being a homosexual. Being the incredibly talented writer that he is, he wrote The Ballad of Reading Gaol, to help channel and survive his experience in prison. This is one of my favourite parts:

‘Dear Christ! the very prison walls 
Suddenly seemed to reel, 
And the sky above my head became 
Like a casque of scorching steel; 
And, though I was a soul in pain, 
My pain I could not feel.
I only knew what hunted thought 
Quickened his step, and why 
He looked upon the garish day 
With such a wistful eye; 
The man had killed the thing he loved 
And so he had to die.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard, 
Some do it with a bitter look, 
Some with a flattering word, 
The coward does it with a kiss, 
The brave man with a sword!

Some kill their love when they are young, 
And some when they are old; 
Some strangle with the hands of Lust, 
Some with the hands of Gold: 
The kindest use a knife, because 
The dead so soon grow cold.
Some love too little, some too long, 
Some sell, and others buy; 
Some do the deed with many tears, 
And some without a sigh: 
For each man kills the thing he loves, 
Yet each man does not die.’

So let’s celebrate poetry and the effect it has on us all. We can all ready the same poem around the world, and in that instant we are all connected. I hope you’ve all have a magical and very poetic World Poetry Day. 

Big love xx

  

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Filed under Literature, Poetry

The Night Before Christmas – Clement C Moore

  

 
Happy Christmas Eve everyone! Or, if it is Christmas already where you are, merry Christmas! 

It seems like a perfect time to firstly, wish all my lovely followers and stoppers- by a very, merry Christmas and also to review a very festive poem. The Night Before Christmas brought so much joy to my life as a youngster. I just read it again, being as it’s Christmas Eve. It still brings me joy today and I just feel so excited. Everything is ready for the big day tomorrow! 

Onto the poem:

The poem tells the story of a Christmas Eve night. A father awakens to noises outside his own house, whilst his wife and children slept. 

”Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse’

He looks out the window to see St. Nicholas in his sleigh being pulled along by eight reindeers. If only this was real life!! 

‘When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,

With a little old driver so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.’

St. Nicholas lands his beloved sleigh on the roof. He enters the house through the chimney, carrying a sack of toys and gifts with him. 

‘His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!’

The father observes St. Nicholas filling the children’s stocking, which were hanging by the family fire place. He laughs to himself. He notes specifically how he looks. It’s clear to see how the iconic image of Santa has originated over time. 

‘He had a broad face and a little round belly

That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.’

The men share a private moment together, before St. Nicholas heads off up the chimney again. As he flies away with his reindeer he exclaims:

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”

The magic created in this short poem, which has been reprinted with various illustrations, is really rather special. There is a reason why it has lasted so many years and has been a feature of many Christmases around the globe. Can you believe it’s nearly 200 years old?! 

I’m not old enough or proud enough to admit that I still find it enchanting. The rhyme makes it easy to follow the poem and experience the feelings expressed by both father and St. Nicholas. It boasts atmosphere, excitement and enjoyment, all the things I hope your Christmases have! 

So, to all my wonderful friends and followers, I’m sending my festive love and well wishes to all. 

Big love x

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Filed under Book review, Christmas, Poetry

Remembrance Day 2015

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scare heard amid the guns below.


We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Love and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.


Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from falling hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

Always admired, never forgotten.
Big love xx

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Filed under Poetry, Remembrance Day