So we drink on

I see a few regulars in the bar everyday
Many people say all they do is drink
I don't judge, i actually study them
I want to know what they think

Some are rude, some are nice
but i look at the calm and serene
because there is a little mystery behind them
of whats going on behind the scenes

see the man on the end was in world war two
he remembers all the horror and all the freight
so when he comes, he comes to forget
and stays here almost all night

Theres a younger man next to him
who he talks to about everything he did see
the young man wants to enlist
a hero is what he is dreaming to be

to the left is one man who is black
discrimination he has faced
the bar is where he fits in
Where everyone drinks, no matter what your race

Theres usually a kid who comes in
He has an ID but we all think its a fake
We all judge him that hes too young to drink
but disregard the abuse at home he takes

On man comes in and everyone cheers
Everyone knows his name and screams"Fred"
We all though he had the perfect life
Till one  night he put a bullet in his head

My favorite guest comes in
but always sits to the side
and yes he gets drunk, drunker than ever
but everyday walks out with his pride

The Stolen Child- W. B. Yeats

The Stolen child

By: W. B. Yeats

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we’ve hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he’s going,
The solemn-eyed:
He’ll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand.

The Scouting Trail

The Scouting Trail

This is the trail that the Scout shall know,
Where knightly qualities thrive and grow.T
And the strength that spring, from the good brown earth.
The trail that Scouts, in their seeking blaze,
Through the toughest tangle, the deepest maze.
Till out of boyhood the Scout comes straight,
To manhood's splendid and high estate.

This poem is pretty good. The message that comes across is the message of a maturing boy scout. A boy scouts path should be one where he matures. By the time he ages out, he should be a man with knightly qualities. It is an honor to be a boy scout. You should have certain morals and a sense of respect for certain things.

Fire and Ice- Robert Frost

Fire and Ice

By: Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire, 

Some say in ice. 

From what I’ve tasted of desire 

I hold with those who favor fire. 

But if it had to perish twice, 

I think I know enough of hate 

To say that for destruction ice 

Is also great 

And would suffice.

Fire and Ice is basically an argument of how the world will end. The poem says some believe in fire and some believe in ice. This poem is so relative today. The poem relates to people wondering how humans will destroy this planet. In the poem, Robert Frost tells what he would side with, but then also says if it goes down in the other way he wouldn't be suprised. He says that ice can do just as much damage as fire, and both can cause this world to end. 

Ah Are You Digging on My Grave- Thomas Hardy

Ah Are You digging on My Grave

By: Thomas Hardy

Ah, are you digging on my grave
My loved one?--planting rue?"
--"No; yesterday he went to wed
One of the brightest wealth has bred.
'It cannot hurt her now,' he said,
That I 'should not be true.'"

Then who is digging on my grave?
My nearest dearest kin?"
--"Ah, no; they sit and think, 'What use!
What good will planting flowers produce?
No tendance of her mound can loose
Her spirit from Death's gin.'"

But someone digs upon my grave?
My enemy?--prodding sly?"
--"Nay; when she heard you had passed the Gate
That shuts on all flesh soon or late,
She thought you no more worth her hate,
And cares not where you lie."

Then, who is digging on my grave?
Say--since I have not guessed!"
--"0 it is I, my mistress dear,
Your little dog, who still lives near,
And much I hope my movements here
Have not disturbed your rest?"

Ah, yes! You dig upon my grave . . .
Why flashed it not on me
That one true heart was left behind!
What feeling do we ever find
To equal among humankind
A dog's fidelity!"

Mistress, I dug upon your grave
To bury a bone, in case
I should be hungry near this spot
When passing on my daily trot.
I am sorry, but I quite forgot
It was your resting-place."

I read this poem in my english 102 class. I loved the humor in this poem. However it is also kind of messed up. The person who past is wondering who is digging on her grave. She asks if it was her loved one, her nearest kin, or her enemy. It winds up being her dog. The sad part is none of the people came to visit her, and when someone did it was the dog. The dog didn't even go there for her, the dog went for his bone. So yes it is funny that it was the dog, but it is also sad that no one cares about this woman.

The Moon- Henry David Thoreau

The Moon

By: Henry David Thoreau

The full-orbed moon with unchanged ray 
Mounts up the eastern sky, 
Not doomed to these short nights for aye, 
But shining steadily. 

She does not wane, but my fortune, 
Which her rays do not bless, 
My wayward path declineth soon, 
But she shines not the less. 

And if she faintly glimmers here, 
And paled is her light, 
Yet alway in her proper sphere 
She's mistress of the night. 

Henry David Thoreau has been a writer that i have heard of since high school however I never read anything from him until now. The moon is a very peaceful and soothing poem. In this poem he is appreciating the moon and all of its beauty. Thoreau uses very descriptive words like shining, full- orbed,  and faintly glimmers. He says that the moon is " mistress of the night ".

Shall I Compare Thee to a Summers Day- William Shakespere

Shall I Compare Thee to A Summers Day

By: William Shakespere

Shall I compare thee to a summers day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May

And summers lease hath all too short a date

Sometime too hot eye of heaven shines

And often in his gold complexion dimmed

And every fair from fair sometimes declines

By Chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose that possession of that fair thou ow'st

Nor shall death brag thou wond'rest in his shade

When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see

So longs lives this, and this gives life to thee. 

To See a World In a Grain of Sand- William Blake

To see a World in A Grain of Sand

By: William Blake

To see a World in a Grain of Sand 

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower 

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand 

And Eternity in an hour




This poem is a very powerful piece of literature. This is only the first four lines of the whole poem, however it is the lines that set up the poem  and have the most meaning. When you picture the world in a grain of sand, you take something that is huge and shrink it to something extremely small. The earth is extremely small compared to most things in space. This poem revolves around the idea that there is a greater truth to little things. I chose to post this poem because it is so short yet so powerful and almost astonishes you to picture the world in a grain of sand. 

The Road Not Taken- Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken

By: Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.



This poem is a great piece of literature. It is put together so well. I can picture Robert Frost at a fork in the road just by reading this poem. The whole concept of making the choice of which road to take makes this poem.  He looks down the one path and tries to see how far it goes.  He decides to take the path less traveled, and he says that it made all the difference. He decided a path and if he would have chose the other his life would have been completely different. This is one of my favorite poems by Robert Frost.

Because I Could Not Stop For Death- Emily Dickinson

Because I Could Not Stop For Death

By: Emily dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death – 
He kindly stopped for me –  
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –  
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility – 

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –  
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –  
We passed the Setting Sun – 

Or rather – He passed us – 
The Dews drew quivering and chill – 
For only Gossamer, my Gown – 
My Tippet – only Tulle – 

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground – 
The Roof was scarcely visible – 
The Cornice – in the Ground – 

Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads 
Were toward Eternity – 

In this poem, Emily Dickenson is talking from the afterlife. She personifies Death and describes her journey with him. When a reader reads this poem they most likely can picture the grim reaper with the straps of the horse talking a younger lady to death. Throughout the poem she describes everything they went past including the school, fields of grass, and finally  a house. It amazes me to think that the whole time they were on a carriage ride to death. The personification of death adds a sense of creepiness and darkness to it. Overall ,a great poem by Emily Dickenson anf my favorite from her. 

Harlem : By Langston Hughes

Harlem

By: Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

      Does it dry up

      like a raisin in the sun?

      Or fester like a sore—

      And then run?

      Does it stink like rotten meat?

      Or crust and sugar over—

      like a syrupy sweet?

      Maybe it just sags

      like a heavy load.

      Or does it explode?

 This poem is a great poem by Langston Hughes. It questions what happens when a dream is deferred. He uses words like fester and syrupy to really garnish the poem. through the use of similies he asks if the dream deferred festers like a sore, stinks like rotten meat, or crust and sugar over like syrupy sweet. The poem ends with it saying " Or does it Explode". Wow! The whole poem he is talking about how the dream ends and then the last sentence asks if it becomes a goal or real. The poem motivates people not to let dreams deteriorate. Hughes wants the dreams to explode and become real.

Dulce Et Decorum Est- Wilfred Owen

Dulce Et Decorum Est

By: Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, 

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, 

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, 

And towards our distant rest began to trudge. 

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, 

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; 

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots 

Of gas-shells dropping softly behind. 

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling 

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time, 

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling 

And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—

Dim through the misty panes and thick green light, 

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. 

In all my dreams before my helpless sight, 

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. 

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace 

Behind the wagon that we flung him in, 

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, 

His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin; 

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood 

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, 

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud 

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— 

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest 

To children ardent for some desperate glory, 

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est 

Pro patria mori.



One of my favorite poems. The Imagery that Wilfred Owen uses in this poem is astonishing. When you see words like guttering, chocking, drowning, plunges, and sludge you see the soldiers drowning in the water and crawling through mud and sludge. When you see bent double, hanging face like a devils sick of sin, limped, blood shod, and marched asleep you see the image of soldiers being worn down and physically harmed. This poem gives you a greater respect for the soldiers because they have to deal with all of these things. Wilfred Owen tells people in this poem that it is not all it is hyped up to be to serve your country. He cringes at the fact that children want the glory of war when there are true horrors not being shown. Dulce de decorum est sounds nice until you translate it and read the poem. 

Richard Cory- Edwin Arlington Robinson

    Richard Cory:

By: Edwin Arlington Robinson

    Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.



This is a great short poem. The narrator seems to be a middle class working man who works hard everyday to live. He looks at this man who appears to have his life together and is always happy. No matter how hard the people worked they kept on working wishing to be as happy. However the last sentence stops the  poem like a deer in headlights. The poem was all cheery until it said the man went home and killed himself. The effect of the last sentence is huge. Just because the man appeared to be happy in person, did not mean he was happy at home. Also, Richard Cory had money but was not happy. This shows that money can not buy happiness. 

Ragged Old Flag- Johnny Cash

That Ragged Old Flag! Written by Johnny Cash

I walked through a county courthouse square. On a park bench an old man was sitting there. I said, "Your old Court House is kinda run down." He said, "No, it will do for our little town." I said, "Your old flag Pole is leaning a little bit. And that's a ragged old Flag you've got hanging on it." He said, "Have a seat," and I sat down "Is the first time that you've been to our little town?" "Well," he said, "I don't like to brag, But we're kinda proud of that ragged old Flag. You see, we got a little hole in the Flag there, When Washington took it across the Delaware. And it got powder burns, the night Francis Scott Key, Sat watching it, writing 'Oh, Say, Can You See.' And it got a bad rip at New Orleans, When Packingham and Jackson took it to the scene And, it almost fell at the Alamo beside the Texas Flag But she waved on through She got cut with a sword at Chancerville, And she got cut again at Shilo Hill There was Robert E. Lee, Bouregard and Bragg The South wind blew hard on that Old Ragged Flag On Flanders Field in World War One She got a big hole from a Bertha Gun She turned BLOOD RED World War Two, And she hung limp and low a time or two. She was in Korea and Vietnam She went from our ships upon the briny foam. Now they've about quit waving her back here at home In our good land she's been abused, She's been burned, dishonored, denied, and refused And the Government for which she stands Is scandalized through out the land. She's getting threadbare and she's wearing thin, But, she's in good shape for the shape she's in, Because she's been through the fire before, I believe she can take a whole lot more. So we raise her up every morning, and we Take her down every night, We don't let her touch the ground, and we fold her up right. On second thought, I do like to brag, because i'm mighty proud of that ragged old flag. I chose this poem to post on my blog because it is one of my favorites. This poem gives me a sense of patriotism and love for my country. The way Jhonny Cash wrote about everything it has gone through really makes you look at the flag more than just a flag. The fact that Jhonny wrote the poem in the first person talking to a man in a square gave the poem the effect that it needed. Personally, I am very patriotic and that's why I love this poem so much. God bless the USA.

Its Up to You

Its Up to You

By: Erik Sattler

Life is full of happiness
But will only occur if you let it in
Will it burst like a ray of sunshine
or will it rot in a rusty old tin