Right now, she's running a contest over on her blog. You're supposed to post a poem, this being National Poetry Month and all. Well, I'm all about contests, but it goes even farther. Laura mentioned, and Amy reiterated, that poetry is really very personal. There are so many poems out there, written by so many different people. Because of that, not every poem will speak to every person. Like music, you find your own rhythm in poetry, your own beat. While you may venture into the unknown and discover new artists (and yes, even new poets) there will always be a few that call to your very soul.
For me, this poem has always been one of my very favorites. It's gotten me through tough spots, it's gotten me through valleys, and it's stayed in my mind all these many years since the very first reading of it. That's got to mean something. So when someone says "Hey, what's your favorite poem?" I reply "Hope". I hope you enjoy... :)
Hope
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.
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
by Emily Dickinson
4 comments:
Lovely poem, good to see you blogged again! And I'll send ya an e-mail to let you know who I was referring to as the BC's. I was just so irritated yesterday, I almost named names, but then that would have made me one, so I didn't :)
Give the kiddos hugs from me!
Oh, yes! the thing with feathers. Thank you for sharing, and such a beautiful poem, too.
and what lovely words you used to describe me! I don't think I've ever been called a Renaissance woman before! thank you for starting my day with hope and friendship.
I love Emily Dickinson. I'm usually not a bi fan of overly metered or rhyming poetry, but her stuff always seems to resonate with me. Thanks for the beautiful bit of hope this morning. :)
How beautiful! Isn't Emily Dickinson amazing? Her poems always sound so innocent and even naive, and yet the truth always hits you.
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