Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Who Knows If The Moon's...by E.E. Cummings

E.E. Cummings (1894-1962, USA)

Edward Estlin Cummings, more popularly known as E.E. Cummings, was not only a renowned American poet. He was also an essayist, playwright and painter. His poems were usually about love, nature and the relationships of people. His unconventional and unexpected style of writing poetry was what made him an eminent figure of 20th century poetry.

In this poem by E.E. Cummings, it talks about how I envision a “perfect” world, where always it’s Spring) and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves. I guess you could say I’m pretty idealistic. I used to think that a world like that does exist. I live in the idea that everything will always be okay in the end, or that life will always be the way you want it to be. However, This poem always snaps me back to reality. It always reminds me that perfection is merely impossible to attain and that such a world, is something I could only visit in my dreams.

Who Know’s If The Moon’s…by E.E. Cummings

who knows if the moon's
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky--filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should

get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we'd go up higher with all the pretty people

than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody's ever visited,where

always
     it's
        Spring)and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves

submitted by:
Rosanna Aranaz
050235

Posted by Block R08 :: 6:30 PM :: 0 comments

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------------------------------------- There Are No Happy Endings by Joel Toledo

Joel M. Toledo
Not much can be researched about him except that he’s Filipino and he is a poet.

There Are No Happy Endings won the first place for poetry in English 2005 Carlos Palanca Awards for Literature. The poem shows a situation that I always find myself. Everything is picturesque up until Murphy's Law kicks in. And that’s my life in a nutshell.


There Are No Happy Endings
Joel Toledo

"Unicorns," she says readily, "the waves hide unicorns." The prince considers this for a
moment then falls silent. They are sitting on the sand. It is dusk: the sun is sinking into
the horizon, sprinkling fantastic dust on the ocean's cheeks like the important objective
correlative established early. Or an attempt at figure of speech: "Their sorrow gives voice
to the sea," she adds. The prince smiles at this, oblivious to the waves sobbing by his bare
feet before retreating back to the sea, leaving the sand damp and shimmering. Fore!
shadows of the night now assembling, he could barely make out her face. "The sea's
waiting for me," her voice, crumbling like sand, that overused metaphor you always find
on the beach. Now the prince could see the sea brimming in her eyes, but he still doesn't
get it. So will you stay?" I offer, the point of view shifting somewhere in the middle.
The prince holds out his hand to touch her silvery hair. She shudders at his touch, a
muffled sound escaping her lips before she steps away, just in time to avoid the deus ex
machina: a giant wave dumping tons of seawater all over the prince. He staggers
backwards, fumbling and stumbling and tumbling and just too much of the present
progressive now for comforting his tense feet, jutting into the air like similes for cramps,
or two phallic synecdoches. The woman, who is actually a unicorn herself (because
telling might help) finds the scene funny. She snickers, then neighs the horse-like but oxy
moronic, high-pitched neigh that all unicorns make. She gallops away from her person
ification (into her unicorn self), leaving the defamiliarized prince looking more like a
court jester than the stereotyped knight in shining armor. And you don't get it because
you're never read The Last Unicorn. You haven't even seen the movie adaptation. You
say Tolkien probably wrote it. Heck, you don't even know what the initials J.R.R.
actually stand for. You still think fantasy began once upon a time, and ended happily ever
after.

submitted by:
Oliver del Rosario
R08

Posted by Block R08 :: 5:28 PM :: 1 comments

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------------------------------------- A Dream Within a Dream by Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)
An American poet, Edgar Allan Poe is best known for his poems and short fiction. Called a master of the horror tale, he had virtually created the detective story as well as practically perfecting the psychological thriller. His theoretical statements on poetry and the short story have been most influential on literary criticism.

Why I liked this poem
I chose this poem because when I had read it, it made me think on the times I myself felt like I’m in a dream instead of reality. It even made me remember dreams where I dreamed of waking from a dream or still dreaming. Strange as it sounds, that really happened. Also, this poem made me dwell on how much life sometimes like the grain of sands slip through our fingers fall away. Time passes and we cannot bring back what is gone just like dreams forgotten completely when one wakes up. And maybe that of the futility of wanting to get that time, those grains of sand back.


A Dream Within a Dream
By Edgar Allan Poe


Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep–while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?


Submitted by: Frances Margaret A. Mondiguing

Posted by Block R08 :: 4:19 AM :: 0 comments

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------------------------------------- The Land of Counterpane by Robert Louis Stevenson

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)
A Scot who was not only a poet but he too was a novelist and an essayist as well. His works include Treasure Island, Kidnapped and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde just to name a few. He believed that novels are to adults what play is to children and that literature’s function was to supply adventure for people leading unexciting lives. He was once described by Henry James as “the only man in England who can write a decent sentence” because his works became of such high quality.

Why is this my favorite poem?
I have some fond memories of this poem. When I was in Grade 6, my teacher chose me and three other classmates to enter a contest and the poem that I was supposed to memorize and deliver to the whole grade school was this one. It was pretty difficult and hectic to memorize the poem. Not only did it coincide with my rough schedule at that time, it also challenged me to speak in front of a lot of people. I really don’t like speaking in front of crowds. In the end I wasn’t selected to enter the contest. Apart from this reason, I like the poem because of it’s simplicity and appeal to both adults and children, in a sense that I still enjoy reading it after six years.


The Land of Counterpane
By Robert Louis Stevenson

When I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay,
To keep me happy all the day.

And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;

And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.

I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.

Submitted by: Emil Rodrigo Zaballa

Posted by Block R08 :: 4:13 AM :: 0 comments

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Monday, December 19, 2005

Dream, Sleep and Drool

Dreaming, Sleeping and Drooling--- poems about dream. And not only about dreams but letting dreams happen and making them happen. Representatives, just log-in and post the poems, pictures and reactions. If you're having a hard time, contact me.

Please use the standard font size and font type so as not to break tables and alignments. Thank you.

---Cha-Cha

Posted by Block R08 :: 5:38 PM :: 0 comments

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