second post about poetry from 'allhuesofblue'

Update: I'm posting from an old blog to a new one.  Almost four years have passed since written.  Damn, that time.

The last semester of my undergrad year, this past spring, was by far my greatest.  I pushed out the best work I had at Huston-Tillotson than I had any of my previous years.  It felt good, and I just wished I had been putting in good work the entire time.  All that matters is I'm out of school and I'm still pushing myself to do better in terms of my crafts.  So here, I share with you one of my last emulations inspired by a John Keats poem regarding the journey of a poetic soul in worlds beyond our own.  Mine is similar in that it talks of another dimension/an afterlife.  I broke the meaning of what I felt each line symbolized for a paper.  Maybe I'll post that later.  But for now, here's what I got.

“Ode: Bards of Passion and of Mirth” by John Keats

Bards of Passion and of Mirth

Ye have left your souls on earth!

Have ye souls in heaven too,

Double-lived in regions new?

Yes, and those of heaven commune

With the spheres of sun and moon;

With the noise of fountains wond’rous,

And the parle of voices thund’rous;

With the whisper of heaven’s trees

And one another, in soft ease

Seated on Elysian lawns

Brows’d by none but Dian’s fawns;

Underneath large blue-bells tented,

Where the daisies are rose-scented,

And the rose herself has got

Perfume which on earth is not;

Where the nightingale doth sing

Not a senseless, tranced thing,

But divine melodious truth;

Philosophic numbers smooth;

Tales and golden histories

Of heaven and its mysteries.

“Ode: Beauty, Sun Upon the Earth” by mimi.

Beauty, Sun Upon the Earth 

Daylight’s near, come quench our thirst!

Is there life where flowers grew,

Underneath a world of few?

Yes, and more than twice sing tunes

Loud as wolves who howl at moons

Loud as birds whose wings beat restless

Crackling voices speaking justice

Buzzing murmurs, pollen for bees

Watch as ships drift out to sea

Wake up moments before dawn

Snakes of Wrath, Medusa’s Pawn

Above, small gray clouds defended

From the rain, warm drops descended

Fire, her relentless hot

Smoke’s relinquished smell of pot

Wind; it winds and whispers, 'spring'

Winters out; Frost bites and stings

But rewind if you need proof

By the door, there sat a Spook

Stories, painted scenery
Leaves of grass and greenry.