Love

[Alan kikani]

Love, from whom the world begun,
Hath the secret of the sun.

Love can tell and love alone,
Whence the million stars are strewn,
Why each atom knows its own,
How, in spite of woe and death,
Gay is life, and sweet is breath:

This he taught us, this we knew,
Happy in his science true,
Hand in hand as we stood
'Neath the shadows of the wood,
Heart to heart as we lay
In the dawning of the day.

[Jack of Hearts]

It takes a certain amount of courage to share your work, so thanks for bringing something to the table.

This reader had a difficult time with this poem for three reasons. The first reason is that it used archaic language. Nobody really speaks like that anymore. The second reason is that this poem is about a very old subject- love. Broad, sweeping statements about love are pretty exhausted. When combined with the use of archaic language, though, it becomes unclear what you're trying to say anyways. The last reason is that, in trying to make these broad statements, there's no trace of your individuality. This reader doesn't care what love is. He cares what love is to you. What is your experience of the world, free of imitation, old voices, archaic language? That's the good stuff. Give the people what they want.






J

[hillwalker]

I'll echo Jack's reservations about this - it's not particularly original.

Perhaps you believe poetry is supposed to be about universal truths - is meant to sound like it was written 100 years ago - and that the lines should always rhyme. Of course, none of the above statements is true. Some of the best poetry is little more than a personal observation, shedding new light on something we can all relate to yet seemingly rediscover thanks to fresh insight given by the poet.

I would advise you to read as much contemporary poetry as you can - and loosen up a little in order to write about stuff that matters to you or something you have experienced and would like to share.

H