cacian
09-20-2013, 11:46 AM
how does non fictional poetry the one that relates to real people/places/incidents compare to non existentialist pieces ie fictional or abstract one?
and do you have a piece about a true person/people/event/places to post here and share?
would be fun to discuss :)
here is one of mine that I really liked. I first read it whilst on holidays in Ireland . It is from none other then Yeats of course.
I also visitied the lake said to have been the topic of this piece.
lake Isle of Innisfree
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there,
of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there,
a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there,
for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now,
for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping
with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway,
or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core. -
and do you have a piece about a true person/people/event/places to post here and share?
would be fun to discuss :)
here is one of mine that I really liked. I first read it whilst on holidays in Ireland . It is from none other then Yeats of course.
I also visitied the lake said to have been the topic of this piece.
lake Isle of Innisfree
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there,
of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there,
a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there,
for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now,
for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping
with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway,
or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core. -