Reading poetry

24 09 2009

I’ve been thinking for a while to try reading some poetry. I read a lot but all of it is prose. Right now poetry is like a mysterious and enchanting garden to me into which I didn’t or couldn’t enter, whose secrets are hidden from me.  I feel like I’m deprived of an amazing experience.

I have a very nominal acquaintance with poetry which dates back to my school days. I really enjoyed the poems of the like Tagore, Wordsworth, Keats etc which were part of my course curriculum. My awe wasn’t restricted to English but also extended to Telugu and Sanskrit. Other than the school courses, I tried a few poems here and there, but never took it very seriously. That brief association in school was enough for me to get the hint of the beauty and power of poetry.  I realized that any emotion, feeling or thought when put in the form of a good poem acquires a new beauty.

As I thought that now is as good as any other time, I’ve picked up an anthology of poems recently and tried my luck at it. Well, to be frank – most of it was like a code waiting to be broken. While I could clearly understand the words, the meaning eluded me. Not to say about ‘reading between the lines’.  But I’m not discouraged. I’m determined to explore, learn and ultimately enjoy.

A couple of snippets from my recent attempt at reading poetry, which I’ve found endearing:

Love:
I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against
The want of you;
Of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it.
And I scald alone, here, under the fire
Of the great moon.
(From The Letter by Amy Lowell)
Humor/Satirical:
O god, O Venus, O Mercury, patron of thieves,
Lend me a little tobacco-shop,
Or install me in any profession
Save this damn’d profession of writing,
Where one needs one’s brains all the time.
(From The Lake Isle by Ezra Pound)

Love:

I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against

The want of you;

Of squeezing it into little inkdrops,

And posting it.

And I scald alone, here, under the fire

Of the great moon.

(From The Letter by Amy Lowell)

Humor/Satirical:

O god, O Venus, O Mercury, patron of thieves,

Lend me a little tobacco-shop,

or install me in any profession

Save this damn’d profession of writing,

where one needs one’s brains all the time.

(From The Lake Isle by Ezra Pound)

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