Sunday, 28 September 2008

Poetry, Apparently

I went on a school trip to Geneva last weekend, was really good fun. took lots and lots of photos. On the other hand, 'twasn't as awesome as I thought it would be, somehow. I'd built it up to be some sort of life changing experience, and in the days before the trip, listening to friends go on about how much fun Geneva was going to be, I couldn't help but feel a vague sense of unease that it wouldn't quite live up to my expectations.
In counterpoint to that (seeing as how I've already used the phrase "On the other hand"), I went to the Lake district this weekend, again with school. This was a lot more fun that I thought it would be, seeing as how I hadn't really thought about it that much, overshadowed as it was by Geneva. We saw Dove cottage, where Wordsworth wrote a lot of his poems. We also climbed the mountain that Wordsworth and Coleridge used to climb alot, called Helvellyn, and it was a really nice and sunny day, which was really cool. I even played the wooden flute that Swaroop gave me on the top.
After we got back to the youth hostel (even though everyone there except our group was over the age of sixty), the teachers made us sit and write poetry. I have decided that since I've written three, I may as well inflict it on you.

Poetry, Apparently
Beware, dear reader
Of poetry horrific
Such as what follows

To walk alone is to think,
To consider the possibilities of time.
'Tis an exercise in patience,
and needs neither reason nor rhyme.

To walk alone is to imagine
The world as a wholly different place
As somewhere that will never be Here,
But still possessing beauty and grace

She walks alone, like the night
Said a poet long ago
Or something like that, anyway
Who she was, I do not know

But if she walked without company
Where was she going, tell me, pray?
Was she another wanderer?
Did she, like me, not know the way?

To find a worthy destination,
Would that not be the goal
Of every single nomad who
Seeked out lodgings that warmed the soul

Walking alone is
Leaving home and finding it,
With inspiration

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves (Or, The dropping of an orange)
'Twas much fun climbing 
The mountain today, we
Generally talked about stuff,
And the sunset was beautiful.

'Twas very nice, seeing 
The hilltops and valleys
From the summit of some dead
Poet's inspirational place

'Twas quite interesting
The site where the first plane
That landed on the countryside in
England, and the dropping of that orange.

Why, was it not
An exciting adventure,
Can we go again?

Haiku is much fun
'Specially since there's no rhyme
I like it a lot

Blogger is weird
Enter must be pressed twice for
A line to be formed

also, does anyone know where i can find out what jagadanandakaraka means? listening to too much M S lately, need some other music in my life...

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