#dailypoetryforyou

[dailypoetryforyou]

The Poetry Library: Spotlighting Emerging Poets on Tumblr!

Welcome!

We wish to warmly invite you to our new Tumblr blog, dedicated to showcasing the talents of poets on this platform!

Our mission is to provide a space where poets can share their work, connect with fellow writers, and gain more exposure and recognition for their creative endeavors.

We believe that poetry is a powerful form of expression that deserves to be celebrated, and we are committed to promoting the diverse voices and perspectives of the poetry community on Tumblr.

Whether you're a seasoned poet or just starting out, we invite you to join us on this journey and share your words with the world.

In addition to featuring new poets on Tumblr, our blog will also offer weekly polls, where followers can vote on their favorite poems and writers that have been showcased. We will also provide in-depth analysis and discussion of famous poets and their works, exploring the rich history and evolution of poetry as an art form throigh out the week. However, our primary focus will always be on discovering and showcasing new talent on Tumblr. We believe that every voice deserves to be heard, and we are committed to amplifying the voices of emerging poets on this platform. We hope to provide a supportive and engaging community where writers can grow and thrive, and where poetry lovers can discover new and exciting works to enjoy. Let's create a vibrant and supportive community of poets on Tumblr!

The most exciting part is we'll be featuring two exciting rounds of submissions and voting. To enter, submit your best piece of writing and let the audience decide who comes out on top in polls. But first, we'll select the five most creative and high-quality submissions to feature in the contest. This is your chance to prove your writing prowess and compete for the grand prize! Don't miss out, submit your entry now! 🖋️🏆 The winner will have their winning poem featured in our pinned post! They will also get to choose what famous poem we will be analysing, for one of our daily poetry analysis posts!

So, whether you're a die-hard poetry fan or just looking to expand your literary horizons, I hope you'll join us on this exciting journey of discovering and celebrating the beauty of poetry. Let's get started!"

To submit your poem to be showcased use @dailypoetryforyou or #dailypoetryforyou for a reblog or send to our inbox.

[origami-houses]

You never made a promise

that I had the courage to believe in.

- G.L. Angelone

[colorfulbibliostack]

gasping for air

is just living

you can't stay alive if you dont

choke now and then

you can't thrive if you aren't dying

and you wont be fulfilled if you're always lying

the world is so full of shit

but if you don't dive in

you can't get through it

you can hide your heart behind your shirt

in a bag tucked away

you can hold it bleeding in your hands

but nobody's gonna take it

nobody can heal you but yourself

so drag yourself, kicking, screaming

biting at the bit

and take the hits

take your own heart and understand it

hold yourself and others

but know they can't fix whats broken

put the ceramic back in place

glue it up with bonemeal in the cracks

and hear the bell ring anew

[jojomills]

‘Winds of Change’

They built a ship to sail the world.

The allure is fair, the unending sea.

 

Though a bottled ship might never wear,

a traveler can't always be.

 

The ship is tall, and bounded true,

to match the deep, vast, warping waves.

 

The wind is harsh, pulling every thread

of sails as worn as galley slaves.

 

No journey is ever complete,

another destiny to be found.

 

Yet every ship, from any fleet

fears time as it counts down.

 

For a sailor may love the water,

yet the water would swallow him up.

 

While the ship collects its memories,

every splinter, tear, and crack corrupt.

 

So they take this ship of Theseus,

this weathered and salted beast,

and pry up every plank and rail,

replacing every single sail,

till nothing of her still remains.

 

Is she now deceased?

 

No.

I was that ship of oaken boards,

and tomorrow that ship will still be me.

___

[creekbythehill]

Best Friends

I wanted friends,                                                                                                      I got them.                                                                                                           But where is the one,                                                                                              I always wished for ?

The one who could always keep me safe,                                                           embrace how I am.                                                                                                 I always thought I found you,                                                                              but everyone was the same.

They say you make friends your whole life,                                                            one day you will find someone                                                                              who will make you thrive.                                                                                        But what do I do till then ?                                                                                      Watch the lucky one make friends ?

Ooh, I met a girl,                                                                                                      But she very very wasn’t the one.

@creekbythehill

[sky-kid-18]

pickles

the tv is on

the owner of a pawn shop is looking at an edition of through the looking glass

i think

im not really watching

im watching my roommate watch

wondering how i could achieve what she has

peace

enough peace to watch the colors shift on the television mounted on the dijon wall of our living room while the hood fan runs in the kitchen to air out the smokey smell from our third roommates red pepper wings that she cooked at 400 degrees for 40 minutes on a blue oven tray that looks just like the dishwasher pods we found today to clean the dishes we let sit for just a bit too long as our bodies ached from walking to class where we made sour smelling brine to pour into the mason jars filled with cucumbers to pickle

the pickles i will never eat

because while my roommate watches the television

i place a delivery order

rope

to hold me all together

i hope

maybe ill find

peace

[ilikedumbpoetry]

my top three

in dumb poetry

oh look ma, i can rhyme too, lmfao, istg

[dailypoetryforyou]

The WINNER is @waitingforthesunrise

Congratulations @waitingforthesunrise for the beautiful poem you have shared with us. Your words truly captured our hearts, and we were captivated by the way you expressed your emotions through your poem. Your poem was a perfect blend of rhythm, imagery, and creativity. It's our pleasure to announce that your poem will be pinned on our poetry blog.

We would also like to thank all the other participants who have submitted their amazing work for this competition. Your contributions have inspired us, and we appreciate your time and effort in sharing your talent with us.

Once again, congratulations @waitingforthesunrise, and we look forward to seeing more of your amazing work in the future.

We will have more poetry competitions coming so stay tuned

Best regards, @dailypoetryforyou and for those wondering our next comp will be in -

[sky-kid-18]

on monday mornings i have therapy

we talk about how im doing

out of habit i say im fine

ask how he's doing

he says he's fine

and asks again.

and i break.

im not fine.

im dead.

i should be.

he says im going through grief.

i dont know quite what im grieving,

but it must be big

because it fills the dark

and consumes my days

and everytime i try to write about it

like he said will help

my fingers go numb

and i type

im fine

how are you

[dailypoetryforyou]

A Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

Lets have a chat about Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken, first published in 1916.

This classic poem is a masterful example of Frost's use of imagery and metaphor to explore the theme of choices and their consequences.

The poem begins with a description of a "yellow wood" and a fork in the road, setting up the central metaphor of the two paths as symbols of life's choices. The speaker is torn between them, "sorry I could not travel both," and his hesitation is conveyed through the use of repetition and long, meandering lines.

As he considers the two paths, the speaker notes that "Though as for that the passing there / Had worn them really about the same." This line is a prime example of Frost's use of irony, as the two paths are ultimately revealed to be equally well-traveled and equally valid choices. The speaker's final choice is therefore less important than his willingness to make a choice and take responsibility for it.

But the poem's final lines, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— / I took the one less traveled by, / And that has made all the difference," have been widely misinterpreted as a celebration of individualism and nonconformity. In reality, the poem's true message is more complex. While the speaker does take a less common path, it is not necessarily the "right" or "better" path. Rather, it is simply the one he chose, and he will look back on his decision "with a sigh" and wonder what might have been.

Ultimately, "The Road Not Taken" is a timeless meditation on the choices we make in life and their lasting impact. Through its use of metaphor, irony, and repetition, Frost creates a poem that is both accessible and deeply thought-provoking. So the next time you find yourself at a crossroads, take a page from Frost's book and make the choice that feels right to you, even if it means taking the road less traveled.(don't go chasing waterfalls)

Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken" has had a profound influence on both writing and poetry since its publication in 1916. One reason for this is the poem's universal theme of choice and its consequences, which resonates with readers of all ages and backgrounds. The idea of making difficult choices and wondering what might have been is a timeless human experience that has been explored in countless works of literature throughout history.

In addition, the poem's use of vivid imagery and metaphor has been widely admired and emulated by other writers. Frost's ability to create a sense of place and atmosphere through his description of the yellow wood and the two diverging paths has inspired generations of poets to use concrete imagery to evoke emotions and ideas.

Furthermore, it has become so popular and widelyread that it has taken on a life of its own, with many people misinterpreting its message as a celebration of individualism and nonconformity. This has led to countless parodies, homages, and references in popular culture, from the television show "The Simpsons" (ikr) to the film "Dead Poets Society."(great film)

Overall, "The Road Not Taken" remains a touchstone of modern poetry, with its themes and literary techniques continuing to inspire and influence writers today.

For those who haven't read "The Road Not Taken" here you go!!

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.

[dailypoetryforyou]

This poem by poppiesandpromises reminds me of the simple pleasures in life, like the whispers in the woods and the giggles of the birds. The use of short, choppy lines creates a sense of urgency and determination, emphasizing ops resolve to take control of their life.

Like, reblog or follow to show @poppiesandpromises your support

This is the year I stop waiting

For someone else to take me—

I'll caress the snout of the

Softest donkey alive, alone

I'll twirl in my tutu in that

Sunflower forest and sip

Stardust from the big dipper

By myself

I'll remember the way joy bubbles

Like champagne with the windows

Down and the music up

It's time I remembered

The whispers in the woods

The giggles of the birds

It's the perfect year

To meet myself again

[itspoeticbrii]

A POEM CALLED ..

HER LOVE ;

Her Love;

Is like a flower …

Soft &&—- Beautiful ..,like a sun ray of sunshine ☀️,..that NEVER goes away

H.E.R Love; is like a rare form of B.E.A.U.T.Y

Her Love sings to my soul ..

A love melody that can’t be replaced Her love is not blind because it recognizes “ME”

Her love is like a fresh breath of air;

Sort of like when—- you breathe in fresh air

Her Love is poise;

Sort of love that never leaves

Like the leafs that BLOOM

On a sunny warm fall day

When the wind blows softly &&—;gently

Her Love ;flows peacefully

Like L.A night skies

Her love is like grandma’s cooking “fulfilling”

HER LOVE IS JUST MMM…

Author:poeticxbrii (baby baduu)

Dedicated to my love 🫶🏽❣️

@dailypoetryforyou

[dailypoetryforyou]

The Raven, by Edgar Allen Poe.

Today, we will be talking about The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe.

The Raven is a poem that was first published in 1845 and has become one of the most famous poems in western literature. It is a narrative poem that tells the story of a man who is visited by a raven one night as he is grieving the loss of his lover,Lenore.

The poem is written in trochaic octameter, which means that each line has eight stressed syllables followed by eight unstressed syllables. The use of this meter gives the poem a haunting, rhythmic quality that adds to its eerie atmosphere(reading this as child was like watching a horror movie ngl).

It begins with the narrator reading a book as he tries to forget about his lost love, However he is interrupted by a tapping at his chamber door, and when he opens it, he finds nothing there. He repeats this process several times, becoming increasingly agitated, until a raven enters his room and perches upon a bust of Pallas Athena(the audacity of this bish).

The narrator tries to engage the raven in conversation, asking it questions about its identity and its purpose for visiting him. the raven only responds with the repeated phrase "Nevermore," which gradually drives the narrator to despair.

Throughout the poem, Poe employs a range of literary techniques to create a sense of foreboding and uneas. For example, he uses alliteration and internal rhyme to create a sense of repetition and monotony, which reflects the narrator's growing frustration with the ravens unchanging response. Additionally, he uses vivid imagery to create a sense of darkness and decay, with references to the "bleak December" night and the "grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous" raven.

Overall i find that the The Raven is a haunting and evocative poem that has stood the test of time, and has definitely made an impression on me as a writer. It has also in my opinion been a significant influence on the development of modernism in poetry. Modernist poets, such as T.S. Eliot and Ezra Pound, were influenced by Poe's use of rhythm and meter, as well as his ability to create a unified, cohesive work of art. Ithink jts safe to say it had a profound impact on the poetry scene, helping to establish new forms of poetry and new ways of thinking about the art of poetry. Its influence can still be seen in modern poetry, where poets continue to experiment with new forms and styles, where symbolism and the use of the first-person narrator remain prominent features of the art form.

Throughrough out it leads your heart into a frenzy that lingers long after the poem has been read, undoubtedly one of my favourite reads. Feel free to Share you own thoughts and interpretations.

For those who haven't had the pleasure of reading this poem before here you go! Enjoy!

The Raven

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

            Only this and nothing more.”

    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

    Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

    From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

            Nameless here for evermore.

    And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

    “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

            This it is and nothing more.”

    Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

    But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

            Darkness there and nothing more.

    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

    But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

    And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

            Merely this and nothing more.

    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

    “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

      Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

            ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

    Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

    But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

            Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

    For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

    Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

            With such name as “Nevermore.”

    But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

    Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

    Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

            Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

    Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

    Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

    Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

            Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

    But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

    Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

            Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

    This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

    This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

    On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

    Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

    “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

    Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

    Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

    On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

    Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

    Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

    Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

            Shall be lifted—nevermore!

[dailypoetryforyou]

In A Station Of A Metro, Ezra Pound

Lets have a look at a poem by Ezra Pound Published in 1913, "In a Station of the Metro" is a seminal poem of the modernist movement that revolutionized poetry and art. The poem's brevity, use of imagery, and focus on the ordinary and mundane paved the way for the development of imagism, a style of poetry that emphasizes precise, sensory language and vivid images. The poem's impact was felt not just in poetry, but also in art, where it influenced the development of the surrealist movement. By juxtaposing two seemingly unrelated images, the poem challenged traditional notions of beauty and meaning, encouraging artists and poets to experiment with new ways of expressing themselves. Today, "In a Station of the Metro" remains an important and influential work, a testament to the power of art to shape and transform culture. Its a reminder to writers and readers alike that more words does not mean mlre impact or emotion, sometimes less is more.

Here is the poem for those that wnat to read it

In a Station of the Metro 

BY Ezra Pound

The apparition of these faces in the crowd:

Petals on a wet, black bough.

[dailypoetryforyou]

beautifully written and thought provoking, speaks to the universal experience of feeling lost and alone in a rapidly changing world.

To show your support for @kaileythepoet like, relog or follow

As the world goes on

and on

I find myself wondering

when I will catch up to everyone.

A fire burns around

me, but I am cold inside

unable to warm.

Outside, the world

continues as if I

were never there at all.

-kaileythepoet

[dailypoetryforyou]

Dear poets and poetry lovers! ,

THE FIRST ROUND HAS OFICIALLY STARTED

I'm thrilled to announce that the first round of our poetry competition has officially begun! After carefully reviewing all of the submitted poems and newly posted to tumblr in general ,I have selected five contestants to compete in this round.

Now, it's time to vote for your favorite poem in the poll. The three poems with the most votes will move on to the final round of the competition.

I want to thank all of the poets who submitted their work, everyone is so talented on here! please take the time to read through the entries and vote for the poem that resonates with you the most.

The voting period will be open for 24 hours!! , so make sure to get your votes in before the deadline!!

Best of luck to all of the contestants, and thank you again for participating in our poetry competition. Let's make this a fun and engaging event for everyone!

Introducing our submissions.

Poem by @waitingforthesunrise

Poem by @colorfulbibliostack

Poem by @shyamasyahi

Poem by @kaytpoems

Poem by @oblivionwinds