third post about poetry 'allhuesofblue'

Update: Where did the days go?  I wrote this during the last year of undergrad.  I think about Louis MacNeice's poem often because, unfortunately, I know I have still not put the time nor energy into writing and reading poetry like I feel I should do.  I'm hoping this blog will be a good reminder for me to put time into this part of my creativeness, that does not come easy.  The love though, is there.

Here's another emulation from this past year.  I would have loved to model a longer poem after Louis MacNeice's, "Elegy for Minor Poets."  Upon first reading his poem, I was immediately made sad.  Seriously, my heart grieved. I knew, if I myself did not put my writing out there and spend time with my work, I would not become a well nurtured poet.  I would never the less still be a poet, but one whose talents were laid to rest by the wayside because she was too internally afraid to put herself out there for fear of failure.  So many of my works go unpublished and unfinished, but I'm correcting that - on my good days.  Anyways, I love his poem.  Here's the poem at its full length.  And all you poets who need a little more push and confidence in expressing yourself, I'm going through it too.  We can push through together, or something like that.  Heck, then again, you may not want to.  On second thought, I may not want to either.  How bout we play it by ear and check in again later.

But for now, here's Louis MacNeice's poem, then mine:   

Lines from, “Elegy for Minor Poets,” by Louis MacNeice

Who were lost in many ways, through comfort, lack of knowledge, 

Or between women’s breasts, who thought too little, too much,

Who were the world’s best talkers, in tone and rhythm

Superb, yet as writers lacked a sense of touch,

So either gave up or just went on and on—

Let us salute them now their chance is gone

And give the benefit of the doubtful summer

To those who worshipped the sky but stayed indoors

Bound to a desk by conscience or by the spirit’s

Hayfever.  From those office and study floors

Let the sun clamber on the notebook, shine, 

And fill in what they groped for between each line.

“writing is only half the battle” by mimi.

Mistakes only take a moment to make and a second to correct

Your history should always be told!

Preach! It is only through your voice we are made to listen.

And for those who cannot hear, your hands, speaking for you, will sculpt a picture to mold

Let it be, live to be free or die trying

Do not look down unless it is to wave from the sky where you are flying from.

  

And while you are in the sky, ask to whom you owe the pleasure of her beauty?

Recognition of the past allows the future more room to breathe

Paper scattered across desks waiting for adventures to be written

Seeing is believing, attached to nothing but the breeze.

Usted es una película que mira el sol

Patience blindly waits for union with her lost controller.