I'm a firm believer that a poem needn't be complicated in order to be good. Though the ability to layer verse with intricacies and levels of meanings is certainly virtuous, there is something to be said for simply and poignantly presenting an emotion. Yeats, from whom I will forever steal, here writes a poem from which a considerable amount of meaning can be gathered off the first reading:
O DO NOT LOVE TOO LONG
Sweetheart, do not love too long:
I loved long and long,
And grew to be out of fashion
Like an old song.
All through the years of our youth
Neither could have known
Their own thought from the other's,
We were so much at one.
But O, in a minute she changed--
O do not love too long,
Or you will grow out of fashion
Like an old song.
Man, I love this stuff. Poetry is the prettiest, most comforting thing.
Poetry is the saddest, most heart-stinging thing.
ReplyDeleteIf this was facebook, I would like your comment, Kaitlyn.
ReplyDeleteI mean "Like" it. y'know, with the little button.
ReplyDelete