Poetry Anthology

My
Poetry
Anthology by Michaela
Miedziolka
8m

Contents
Page
Prologue
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas
How do I love thee? by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
From a Railway Carriage by Robert Louis Stevenson
Love and Friendship by Emily Brontë

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Contents
Page
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Prologue
I have enjoyed reading these poems and getting some understanding of the language used and the meanings often hidden amongst the words. I would like to thank my mum and dad for giving me their interpretation of the poems and to Megan and Antonia for taking me to
Wales and for pointing out the work of the welsh hero Dylan Thomas.
I have enjoyed putting this anthology of poems together and I hope you enjoy reading them too. I intend to continue adding to the anthology as and when I find poems that I like.

Michaela Miedziolka
06 January 2015

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Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good
Night
by Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage,
 rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by,
 crying how brightTheir frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage,
 rage against the dying of the light.Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn,
 too late,
 they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.Grave men,
 near death,
 who see with blinding sightBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage,
 rage against the dying of the light.And you,
 my father,
 there on the sad height,
Curse,
 bless,
 me now with your fierce tears,
 I pray.Do not go gentle into that good night.Rage,
 rage against the dying of the light.

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I chose this poem because it says that old men at the ends of their lives should resist death as strongly as they can. In fact,
 he says that they should only leave kicking and screaming,
 trying to stay alive. As I read this
I began to realise that maybe someone in his life is dying. On the sixth and final verse I realised that he is talking about his own father. The first time you read this poem you may not understand how thoughtful this poem is he refers to death as the night because death is associated with darkness and being isolated from other people. This poem is very meaningful because Dylan Thomas wrote a poem about his father dying and not only that but what he thought about it and how it effects him. This is showing that he is vulnerable and helpless. When I examined this poem closer I began to realise that this poem is not just about death but about life and how we live it. Dylan Thomas tells the reader that when you die you should not do it without a fight. This poem can be split into 3 parts,
 the first is the introduction of the poet’s message,
 the next is the next for stanzas giving examples of what he is really feeling in the third part when we realise that he is talking about his father.
In the first stanza,
 second line it says “Old age should burn and rave at the close of day;
 Rage,
 rage against the dying of that light” and to me this is expressing that we should fight death and leave in glory. When he says light he means darkness which is often used as a metaphor for death.
To me Dylan Thomas is a very inspirational poet and this particular poem shows this because it means he is not afraid to tell others what he is thinking especially on this emotional topic.
I first discovered Dylan Thomas’ marvelous poems a few months ago when
I went to Wales and visited the National Library of Wales – Dylan Thomas was welsh and a folk hero there.
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How do I love thee? by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach,
 when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need,
 by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely,
 as men might strive for Right;
 I love thee purely,
 as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,
–I love thee with the breath,

Smiles,
 tears,
 of all my life!–and,
 if God choose,
 I shall but love thee better after death.

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This sonnet caught my attention because the the repetition of “I love thee” showed the emphasis of her love. This is said eight times and reflects her passion along with her constant feeling of love . Elizabeth Barrett
Browning's sonnet was written before she married Robert Browning to express her intense love for him.
Although it does not follow the precise rhyme scheme of an Italian sonnet,
 the poem's structure follow the form of an Italian sonnet,
 consisting of an octave - the first eight lines,
 and the sestet,
 the final six lines.
Sonnet 43 was her most famous poems out of 44 that she wrote.

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From a Railway Carriage by Robert Louis Stevenson
Faster than fairies,
 faster than witches,

Bridges and houses,
 hedges and ditches;

And charging along like troops in a battle
All through the meadows the horses and cattle:
All of the sights of the hill and the plain
Fly as thick as driving rain;

And ever again,
 in the wink of an eye,

Painted stations whistle by.
Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,

All by himself and gathering brambles;

Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;

And here is the green for stringing the daisies!
Here is a cart runaway in the road
Lumping along with man and load;

And here is a mill,
 and there is a river:
Each a glimpse and gone forver

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I like this poem because it has a fast flow and because of the onomatopoeia running throughout. Stevenson uses the words and poem construction to mimic the sound of a train rattling along the tracks.
The poem starts with a magical tone describing the fast flight of witches and fairies. Trains were still thought of as new and perhaps mystical.
The first third of the poem portrays fast moving things such as troops charging in battle and then it moves to a slower wider perspective.
I like the description of the painted stations which would have been things of beauty in Victorian times.

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Love and Friendship by Emily Brontë
Love is like the wild rose-briar,

Friendship like the holly-tree—
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most constantly?
The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,

Its summer blossoms scent the air;

Yet wait till winter comes again
And who will call the wild-briar fair?
Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly’s sheen,

That when December blights thy brow
He still may leave thy garland green.

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This message within this poem is that love is beautiful but perhaps short lived in comparison to friendship that lasts throughout the difficult times in our life which in this poem is described as winter.

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Sonnet 130 by William Shakespeare
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red;

If snow be white,
 why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires,
 black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd,
 red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak,
 yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress,
 when she walks,
 treads on the ground:
And yet,
 by heaven,
 I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

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In this poem William Shakespeare is ironic and making fun of the other romantic poets at the time who used over the top descriptions. His message is that you don’t need to live up to an impossible standard of beauty to be loved and be beautiful to those that love you.

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Song in Space by Adrian Mitchell
When man first flew beyond the sky
He looked back into the world's blue eye.
Man said: What makes your eye so blue?
Earth said: The tears in the ocean do.
Why are the seas so full of tears?
Because I've wept so many thousand years.
Why do you weep as you dance through space?
Because I am the mother of the human race.

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I enjoyed this poem because I find it very interesting as it gives a different perspective on the world both literally and figuratively.

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Helas! by Oscar Wilde
To drift with every passion till my soul
Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play,

Is it for this that I have given away
Mine ancient wisdom,
 and austere control?
Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll
Scrawled over on some boyish holiday
With idle songs for pipe and virelay,

Which do but mar the secret of the whole.
Surely there was a time I might have trod
The sunlit heights,
 and from life's dissonance
Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God:
Is that time dead? lo with a little rod
I did but touch the honey of romance —
And must I lose a soul's inheritance?

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One reason I like Oscar Wilde’s poems is that he often uses French language titles which give the poems a cloak of French passion.
Helas is the French word for alas meaning regret,
 sorrow or grief.

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The Lake Isle of Innisfree by William Butler Yeats
The Lake Isle of InnisfreeI will arise and go now,
 and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there,
 of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will
I have there,
 a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee loud glade.And I shall have some peace there,
 for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight's all a glimmer,
 and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.I will arise and go now,
 for always night and dayI hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway,
 or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core. –

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I chose "The Lake Isle of Innisfree" as one of my parent’s friends works with the Housing Association named Innisfree.
Yeats used this poem to try and develop poetry that could be recognised as having an Irish origin instead of one that followed the standards set by the standards set by English poets and critics.

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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 sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

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The story line of this poem is about a man writing about his beloved wife,
 their true love and how it cannot be broken. Even though she died,
 their love was still strong.
They where still young when they realised that they were soul mates and their love lasted forever. They overcame all difficulties and he never lost hope believing their love transcends death.
I like this poem because it is also about how people cope with bereavement. 22

Our Little Star by Anton Miedziolka
You lie within your world,

That’s strewn across your bed,

Across the duvet,
 curled,

On literature you’ve fed.
Your phone,
 it gently sings,

With friends who’ve lots to say,

You stretch your mind and limbs,

And push the books away.
Amongst undigested poems,

And a blue skater dress,

You sleep the sleep of Angels,

On a bed that looks a mess.

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My father wrote this poem for me when I was sitting on my bed writing this poetry anthology.
I chose to include it in my anthology because the poem reflects the way I am and because he wrote it especially for me and this work.

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Romance by Walter J Turner
When I was but thirteen or so
I went into a golden land,

Chimborazo,
 Cotopaxi
Took me by the hand.
My father died,
 my brother too,

They passed like fleeting dreams,

I stood where Popocatapetl
In the sunlight gleams.
I dimly heard the master's voice
And boys far-off at play,

Chimborazo,
 Cotopaxi
Had stolen me away.
I walked in a great golden dream
To and fro from school-Shining Popocatapetl
The dusty streets did rule.
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I walked home with a gold dark boy,


At first I did not understand this poem but then I realised that ‘a golden land’ meant that the sunshine of her life had

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Winter by Shakespeare
When icicles hang by the wall
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail
And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail,

When Blood is nipped and ways be foul,

Then nightly sings the staring owl,

Tu-who;

Tu-whit,
 tu-who: a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson's saw,

And birds sit brooding in the snow,

And Marian's nose looks red and raw
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,

Then nightly sings the staring owl,

Tu-who;

Tu-whit,
 tu-who: a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

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This poem describes an extremely cold winter and gives example of activities common at the time (e.g. bearing and sawing logs) and conditions which only happen in winter (icicles hang by the wall,
 bird sit brooding in the snow,
 milk comes home frozen in pail).
Shakespeare introduces us to the characters present in a way that helps us imagine what they are doing.
My favourite line in the poem refers to Dick blowing on the cold nails of his freezing hands

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Poetry is what?
By Adrian Mitchell
Poetry is a beautiful mud-pie
Washed down with a glassful of stars.
Poetry is one of the best ways
Of singing to the whole wide world
Or whispering in the ear of your best friend.
Poetry tunnels you out of your dungeon.
Poetry captures the three-headed dragon.
And teaches it Ludo and Frisbee-throwing.
Poetry is a Mammoth in a shopping mall,

A beggar with no legs in Disneyland,

A chocolate bicycle,

A truthburger with French flies
And the Moon’s own telephone.
Poetry is your mind dancing
To the drumbeat of your heart.

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I think that many people’s definitions of what a poem is might focus on the structure, the flow and the sort of content that might be included in poems.
While such definitions might be correct Mitchell chooses to define poems in terms of the childlike emotions (e.g. Poetry is a beautiful mud-pie) they conjure up.
Throughout he also shows how things that together seem wrong (e.g. chocolate bicycle) are actually examples of how poetry stretches our imagination and touches our emotions.

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