Position:Home>Poetry> What for you is the greatest blessing of poetry?
Question: What for you is the greatest blessing of poetry!?
For me it is finding moments of myself preserved in words of amber, with all the feelings and emotions intact!. Nothing else can so restore to an adult the unrestrained soul of a child!. I am 8 again whenever I read this poem!.
The Watcher on the Shore
The mark fell deep upon my soul,
So young and unprepared,
Emerging from the willow-copse,
The silence we had shared!.
Across the bridge above the stream,
Between the banks of old-man's beard,
Of marigold and thistledown,
That midnight ghostly reared!.
Unto the field that marked the start
of my familiar ways -
Of head-high grass where I had rolled
my name in summer haze!.
Now bowed and silvered by the moon,
And motioned by the breeze;
A rolling ocean hemmed by hedge,
And silhouettes of trees!.
A sight to lovely to describe,
Too perfect to endure;
Brought to completion in my eyes,
The Watcher on the Shore!.
And stopped!. I had no wish to move,
And all times come and gone,
I would exchange with happy heart,
To never have moved on!.Www@QuestionHome@Com
Best Answer - Chosen by Asker:
Reminds me of a poem by Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, called Solitude!. One of the verses runs thus:
I'd give all wealth that years have piled,
the slow result of life's decay,
to be once more a little child,
for one bright Summer-day!.
(From memory, as best I can remember it!.)
You'll know him better by his other name!.!.!.Lewis Carroll!. J!. Meade Falkner also referred to this yearning for lost youth in his excellent book, Moonfleet!. Not a poem though, merely a sentence!.!.!.but what a sentence!
Ah, sweet boyhood, how eager are we as boys to be quit of thee, with what regret do we look back on thee before our man's race is half-way run!Www@QuestionHome@Com
The greatest gift of poetry is taking me into another person's realm of existence!. They may be 70 years old, but they take me to their childhood and I behold their 8th year Christmas, or I am taken into a deep, dark dungeon of haunted memories, and pain , and lashing!. Or I am in heaven, with a person visiting their beloved again!. Www@QuestionHome@Com
mine is the unspoken words
the paper that a pen never has touched
nature of the world
tranquil waters of the sea
crisp air flowing from the trees
God's greatest canvas Www@QuestionHome@Com
When I read this poem, I am not eight again, but rather in the same place I now reside, yet filled with a sense of longing for what I have no longer, what I have no hope of ever retrieving; to hold such things close to one's heart for long is to be pierced with unutterable sadness, and that is why more and more these days I find myself, my hands imprisoned, my eye strangely moist and gray, thinking of the lost world of my green imagining, reaching out with suppliant arms to the void, beckoning that mystery where words must turn back utterly!. That is why I feel all and say nothing, and why it must be so!.!.!.Www@QuestionHome@Com