My First Post Ever! Yay!

Whoppee! So this is it. Blogging. My first ever blog, and my first ever post! Wow. I actually don't feel very to excited.

Well, not really feeling like, or wanting to, post anything too heavy, I thought I'd just start with some of my favourite poetry, yay!

The first poem is  "my sweet old etcetera" by e.e. cummings:

my sweet old etcetera
aunt lucy during the recent

war could and what
is more did tell you just
what everybody was fighting

for,
my sister

isabel created hundreds
(and
hundreds) of socks not to
mention shirts fleaproof earwarmers

etcetera wristers etcetera, my

mother hoped that

i would die etcetera
bravely of course my father used
to become hoarse talking about how it was
a privilege and if only he
could meanwhile my

self etcetera lay quietly
in the deep mud et

cetera
(dreaming,
et
cetera, of
Your smile
eyes knees and of your Etcetera)
_______________________________________________________________

I must say, I am not really one for poetry, and I especially dislike poetry about love, unless it is quite unusual, or very good, such as the above poem.
Another one of my favourite poems is "Greater Love" by Wilfred Owen:

Red lips are not so red
     As the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
Kindness of wooed and wooer
Seems shame to their love pure.
O love, your eyes lose lure
     When I behold eyes blinded in my stead!


Your slender attitude
     Trembles not exquisite like limbs knife-skewed,
Rolling and rolling there
Where God seems not to care;
Till the fierce love they bear
    Cramps them in death's extreme decrepitude.


Your voice sings not so soft, -
     Though even as wind murmuring through raftered loft, -
Your dear voice is not dear,
Gentle, and evening clear,
As theirs whom none now hear,
     Now earth has stopped their piteous mouths that coughed.


Heart, you were never hot
     Nor large, nor full like hearts made great with slot;
And though your hand be pale,
Paler are all which trail
Your cross through flame and hail:
    Weep, you may weep, for you may touch them not.
____________________________________________________


Both cummings and Owen are two of my favourite poets (among others ofcourse), and these are just two, in my opinion, fantastic poems. cummings is the more famous of the two, but this is perhaps one of his less well-known poems. Owen is not a well-known poet, but I absolutely love his poetry, the way in which he portrays war truely, without the air-brushing, and I thought I would share his work with you all, who care to read this anyway.
You can read more about Wilfred Owen here