Vintage

Let’s talk about the poems of yesteryears authored by our amazing poetry fathers whose blood dripped as ink to form the words of passion and love.

Sharing something from Shakespeare’s amazing sonnets

This is about the cycle of life, the beauty that we love and must preserve, the life that has to continue. But in the end, at least, for some, it all boils down to vanity. We do not want to age, we do not want to get old, as much as possible we want to preserve youth and all the agility that it means. 

 Sonnet 1

From fairest creatures we desire increase, 
That thereby beauty’s rose might never die, 
But as the riper should by time decease, 
His tender heir might bear his memory: 
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, 
Feed’st thy light’st flame with self-substantial fuel, 
Making a famine where abundance lies, 
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. 
Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament 
And only herald to the gaudy spring, 
Within thine own bud buriest thy content 
And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding. 
   Pity the world, or else this glutton be, 
   To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee.

IMG_3761

Advertisements

I love Edgar Allan Poe

Annabel Lee
BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulcher there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

20140502_123847

Sharing something from Shakespeare’s amazing sonnets

Sonnet 1

 

This is about the cycle of life, the beauty that we love and must preserve, the life that has to continue. But in the end, at least, for some, it all boils down to vanity. We do not want to age, we do not want to get old, as much as possible we want to preserve youth and all the agility that it means.

 

From fairest creatures we desire increase, 
That thereby beauty’s rose might never die, 
But as the riper should by time decease, 
His tender heir might bear his memory: 
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, 
Feed’st thy light’st flame with self-substantial fuel, 
Making a famine where abundance lies, 
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. 
Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament 
And only herald to the gaudy spring, 
Within thine own bud buriest thy content 
And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding. 
   Pity the world, or else this glutton be, 
   To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee.