Poetry...

Hey guys, want to know a secret? I...kind of like poetry. I know, I know, I wrote a post recently about how analyzing poetry was useless but, that's because it ruins it. Ok, let me clarify, I only like poetry with substance. I don't like floofy nonsense, or the poems that try so incredibly hard to find deep meaning out of something where there usually is no meaning. Some of it though, I'll admit, is good. And sometimes you can use it well. Take for example, the book Of Mice and Men. When I first read the book forever ago, the title didn't make any sense to me. Later though, when I read it in high school and we learned that the title came from a line in the poem To a Mouse, it made a lot more sense.
We read another poem in class today that I though was interesting, Shakespeare's 73rd sonnet. 

That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the deathbed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that which it was nourished by. This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long. We talked about how it refered to not only death and old age, but also the death of anything and how when you know that you are going to loose something you love it more and you love it differently.

In other news, I thought that I had a leaf in my hair today since it was windy but when I went to pull it out, it was a hornet! That surprised me.