| Poetry provides the one permissable way of saying one thing and meaning another. Robert Frost TO SATCH Sometimes I feel like I will never stop Just go on forever Till one fine mornin' I'm gonna reach up and grab me a handfulla stars Throw out my long lean leg And whip three hot strikes burnin' down the heavens And look over at God and say How about that! Samuel Allen (b. 1917) METAPHORS I'm a riddle in nine syllables, An elephant, a ponderous house, A melon strolling on two tendrils. O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers! This loaf's big with its yeasty rising. Money's new-minted in this fat purse. I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf. I've eaten a bag of green apples, Boarded the train there's no getting off. Sylvia Plath (1932-1963) OZYMANDIAS I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things. The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away. Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822) |