Poetry

I have come to a realization in the last few years that I can no longer hide. I must come out of the closet. I am a poet. I like reading poetry (though I don't seek it out very much.) I love writing poetry even more. I find myself creating new lyrics for songs every day. Most of my poems don't make it to paper. Most are created with the kids in the car, to the tune of a song, meant to make them laugh. Yet, I love the challenge of playing with words.

Now, I know that there are some that would argue that rhyming isn't good poetry; however, I beg to differ. A good rhyme combined with well planned meter can demonstrate language mastery and literary emotion perhaps better than any other written medium.

Akin to rhyming and just as fun of a literary divice are puns. One of my favorite movie quotes (from the doctor in "Master and Commander") is, "He who would pun would pick a pocket."

So, you may suggest if you like that I am a pick pocket in the poetry closet. I don't care. So in the spirit of poetry I leave you with two poems. One of my own, and one of the bards.


Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body's work's expired:
For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see
Save that my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.
Lo! thus, by day my limbs,
by night my mind,
For thee and for myself no quiet find.

William Shakespeare Sonnet XXVII

I sit to my blog
for other's I write
when they leave precious comments
my soul takes delight

My thoughts then have proven
to tickle your mind
so leave me your message
else I fumble 'round blind

Your feedback so precious
a blurb's all I crave
few word's all I need
to leave my poetry cave.

Pat John Blog post #9