I love poetry. In school dissecting a poem to reveal its true meaning was actually fun for me…Today when I read poetry I focus more on the feeling it evokes within and what the words mean to me, rather than what the author meant when it was written. I think on one day a poem can have one meaning to you and on another something completely different depending on where you are in your life. They also have that way-much like songs do of transporting you (or reminding oneself) of another time in life-especially if it was a poem that had a particularly strong effect. I also enjoy learning what poems (or pieces of literature) other people enjoy. I think it speaks volumes about them (pun-totally intended). In the spirit of that “Save the Words” post I did a few days ago, I thought it would be fun to share (on occasion) my favorite poems. I would love to hear what you have to say about this poem, what it means to you etc. If you appreciate poetry or even write a bit of it on occasion, please share your favorite poems by other authors or yourself in the comment section (linking up to your own posts is very welcome). Lets share!
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops-at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Hope is the Thing With Feathers by Emily Dickinson
Photo: weheartit.com
About the Author: nicóle
Spellbound by a love of words and writing this mother of two boys who loves vintage, tech gadgets, prim things and her books, blogs about wonderment, inspiration, whimsy, and other of the many facets of life that have a tendency to cast a spell on her heart.
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AWAKE
Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and choose the sign of your day
The day’s divinity
First thing you see.
A vast radiant beach in a cool jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it’s quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us. Choose they croon the Ancient Ones The time has come again Choose now, they croon Beneath the moon Beside an ancient lake Enter again the sweet forest Enter the hot dream Come with us Everything is broken up and dances.
aw, a favorite poem..Let me ponder…..I’l be back
To me it means hope gives you wings to fly, wich as a human is impossible, therefor Hope is bringing the impossible ALIVE! Working it in you no matter where you are,because it has nothing to do with your circumstance, just your willingness to let hope “FLY!”