Regarding Poetry Day.

2 Oct

In honour of this day I have created a poem:

When the sun shines the stars fall,
It is only when stars fall that the realisation of the sun approaches.
That is
What you might think of a roller coaster,
Turning and turning but always coming back to the beginning.
That is
The Happiness of what a flower brings.
Death and rot but always comes back in spring.
That is
How our planet, our minds and how we as people reproach. Back to the beginning.
That is Life.

Yes it took a while but I did in fact write this poem some time ago in one of my notebooks in an attempt to describe the world.

And in honour of both the month of October aka the month of All Hallows’ eve I have included a poem by The Poe himself (and yes I meant Edgar Allan Poe) for your reading pleasure.

Note that I have also included the link to the website so if you would like to read more by Mr. Poe just click his name (I hyperlinked it).

The City in the Sea

Lo! Death has reared himself a throne
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the dim West,
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest.
There shrines and palaces and towers
(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)
Resemble nothing that is ours.
Around, by lifting winds forgot,
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters he.

No rays from the holy heaven come down
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently-
Gleams up the pinnacles far and free-
Up domes- up spires- up kingly halls-
Up fanes- up Babylon-like walls-
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers-
Up many and many a marvellous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
So blend the turrets and shadows there
That all seem pendulous in air,
While from a proud tower in the town
Death looks gigantically down.

There open fanes and gaping graves
Yawn level with the luminous waves;
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol’s diamond eye-
Not the gaily-jewelled dead
Tempt the waters from their bed;
For no ripples curl, alas!
Along that wilderness of glass-
No swellings tell that winds may be
Upon some far-off happier sea-
No heavings hint that winds have been
On seas less hideously serene.

But lo, a stir is in the air!
The wave- there is a movement there!
As if the towers had thrust aside,
In slightly sinking, the dull tide-
As if their tops had feebly given
A void within the filmy Heaven.
The waves have now a redder glow-
The hours are breathing faint and low-
And when, amid no earthly moans,
Down, down that town shall settle hence,
Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,
Shall do it reverence.

Edgar Allan Poe

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