Poetry

 

Poetry, to me, is an infinite number of subjects and ways they maybe expressed. Poetry, I think is more open to debate than any other form of literature, because the words an author uses maybe completely different from their intended meaning. Again there is an infinite number of ways to write and present poetry. Poems come in many forms, from rhyming and the organization in stanzas to the long epic poems to the simple, such as the Haiku poems come in many shape and sizes. Which makes them more relatable in turn, because there is a type of poem out there for every one.

Poems are more relatable than other forms of literature because at one point or another through our schooling career we have written a poem for a class. Even thought they might not have been the best poems ever written, to a kid it meant something. Poetry in itself is a blank canvas because one must choose what to write about, Love, peace, war, pizza, then they must choose how to write it, and whether it should rhyme or not and how it will look on the page.

Love is the most common poems we would think of because there is no shortage of love poems out there. There are many other poems out there thought that could have the same or even a great impact at telling a story, or painting a picture or expressing sorrow. There have been poems about war, peace, space, trees, seasons anything that human beings can think of there is a poem for. This is why It is my favorite form of literature because there are so many ways it can take form and manifest rather than be limited to the categories of fiction, nonfiction, novel, or short story, poetry can transcend them all. And here is my favorite poem William Ernest Henley.

 

Invictus

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 captain of my soul.

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