"Has been a lifesaver so many times!"
- Catherine Rampell, student @ University of Washington
"Exactly the help I needed."
- Jennifer Hawes, student @ San Jose State
"The best place for brainstorming ideas."
- Michael Majchrowicz, student @ University of Kentucky
A Poetry Presentation
You might not believe it, but I fear poetry. It is even hard for me to fully under-stand. I guess I am just more intimidated by it more than anything. Do not get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy poetry to its fullest extent, I just do not feel that I am good enough writing it (that is what I said about the writing test, but look at me J). So, this project put up a challenge to me.
I feel an appropriate theme in poetry is individuality. Now I do not mean dis-similarity or eccentricity. I do not think that everyone should be a leader or anything in that direction. If that was so, nothing would get done. Besides, not everyone has leader-ship abilities. Conversely, I think people should have similarity, but a unique or individ-ual trait that separates them from others. I feel that this is extremely essential in a per-son’s personality. I know, it seems confusing. That is just like me, I am intimidated by poetry, yet I just have to pick a complex theme.
A lot of poets talk about individuality and how themselves or something in nature, etc., are unique. But what I do not see is the writing of how individuality can very often at times be hurtful and damaging to one’s feelings and ego. When a lot of poets, or authors of any stripe talk about individuality, they talk about their high aspirations of being individual, or how being individual has made them stand out for the good. Just as a mirror has two faces, I feel that goes the same with any issue.
Out of all the poems that I looked at, this was the only one that I found talking about individuality for the worse:
THE MEN THAT DON’T FIT IN
There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they’re always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.
They say: "Could I find my proper groove,
What a deep mark I would make!"
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
Is only a fresh mistake.
And each forgets, as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who win in the lifelong race.
And each forgets that his youth has fled,
Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead,
In the glare of the truth at last.
ROBERT W. SERVICE
Here are a few other poems that I liked (some of them are my favorites) that dis
What is the moral? Who rides may read.
When the night is thick and the tracks are blind,
A friend at a pinch is a friend indeed,
But a fool to wait for the laggard behind.
Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne,
He travels the fastest who travels alone.
While hands cling to the tightened rein,
Slipping the spur from the booted heel,
Tenderest voices cry "Turn again,"
Red lips tarnish the scabbarded steel,
High hopes faint on a warm hearth stone—
He travels the fastest who travels alone.
One may fall but he falls by himself—
Falls by himself with himself to blame,
One may attain and to him is the pelf,
Loot of the city in Gold or Fame.
Plunder of earth shall be all his own
Who travels the fastest and travels alone.
Wherefore the more be ye holpen and stayed—
Stayed by a friend in the hour of toil,
Sing the heretical song I have made—
His be the labor and yours be the spoil.
Win by his aid and the aid disown—
He travels the fastest who travels alone!
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the
View Full Essay