Poems are the verbal essence of the human spirit George. You have defined that beautifully in this rendering.. May peace and love be always with you. Jon Michael
Hi George,
Possibly, I am being totally thick here and missing the irony of your post.
However, your reasoning seems to have escaped me.
Your first line appears to contradict itself, in that you only have supplied two stanzas, whereas a symphony normally consists of at least parts. The equivalent of a sonata.
I note you have employed rhyming endings but have no discernible metric metre to support it.
Here is you first stanza rewritten in tri and iambic tetrameter without radically changing your meaning.
Composed like a true symphony,
with each third playing a new part.
Where words must have some meaning
their fraught intent seeks to impart.
Yes, a poem is a beautiful symphony! I always listen for the oboe as I played oboe for many years. Other people might listen for another instrument but the symphony as a whole is the most wonderful thing!
All souls interpret a poem's soul differently, and that's okay. For if the reader had the exact same mindset as the writer, there would be no point in writers of poetry or readers of poetry, at all.
That's why find poets who find fault with my interpretation of their poems disturbing. They are too self-centered to understand that we are all different and we all interpret differently. The spice of life.
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
Contraband Marriage, traveling along the hemline of loving after incarceration, is a love story written in lyric and free form, set in reality with a different ever after.
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Well written.
Possibly, I am being totally thick here and missing the irony of your post.
However, your reasoning seems to have escaped me.
Your first line appears to contradict itself, in that you only have supplied two stanzas, whereas a symphony normally consists of at least parts. The equivalent of a sonata.
I note you have employed rhyming endings but have no discernible metric metre to support it.
Here is you first stanza rewritten in tri and iambic tetrameter without radically changing your meaning.
Composed like a true symphony,
with each third playing a new part.
Where words must have some meaning
their fraught intent seeks to impart.
Love ya!
Jane
their poems have a soul.
What a readers interpretation is,
A poet has no control.
A poet writes words,
Like a farmer sowing seeds.
The words come alive in the minds,
Of each person who reads.
Michael D.
That's why find poets who find fault with my interpretation of their poems disturbing. They are too self-centered to understand that we are all different and we all interpret differently. The spice of life.
Ron