Kings Of Chaos :: Forums

Hello Children,

Welcome to Poetry Corner, where people can share and discuss the meaning of the greatness pieces of literature ever written.

Anything is within reason (as long as it does not break the KoC Forum Guidelines and Terms of Service)

I shall start with ‘The Tiger’ by William Blake

Tiger Tiger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water’d heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

—

Ultimately, it is a question of the relationship between William Blake and God. He questions, how a powerful being and entity could allow evil into the world. William Blake, could offer us a solution but the beauty of the poem is the open-ended nature it leaves itself in; in order us for to debate the true meaning of this work.

I could go on, but if you managed to read it, fantastic. I look forward to the next poster and their contribution, whether that be a poem, haiku or limerick!

Hello Children,

In our next edition of Poetry Corner, I present ‘Daffodils’ by William Wordsworth.

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

—

Simply beautiful.

roses are red
violets are blue
sugar is sweet
and so are you