Nowitzki
25-08-2012, 10:39 AM
actually i want to put this thread under Cerpen/Puisi forum, but i just realized that most of the poems i like are in english, so, yeah, i gather it all here (eventually, of course).
When i remember of robert frost, i couldnt forget his masterpiece, fire and ice.
Fire and Ice
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.
Robert Frost
This is becoming one of my favorites, along with road not taken and some poems of cummings and dickinson,
Somehow, i can feel the athmosphere of the poem. Yes, I know that either fire or ice could bring disaster to the world (or to someone's life). Now, i taste the ice, as fire was my past, and i know, sooner or later, this ice will eat me from the inside, the destruction that is caused by ice is totally different from fire. The flames will burn you down passionately into ashes, grasp everything with its might and tell its audience with a bold perfomance and statement.
Unlike fire, ice tends to be quieter. sliping through someone's heart with almost no trace to be found. Like a parasite, being so infectious and deadly. Still we have no idea that it's there, until it's too late.
---------- Post Merged at 09:38 AM ----------
Acquainted with the Night
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street, But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
A luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
Robert Frost
---------- Post Merged at 09:39 AM ----------
A Patch of Old Snow
There's a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest. It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of a day I've forgotten --
If I ever read it.
Robert Frost
When i remember of robert frost, i couldnt forget his masterpiece, fire and ice.
Fire and Ice
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.
Robert Frost
This is becoming one of my favorites, along with road not taken and some poems of cummings and dickinson,
Somehow, i can feel the athmosphere of the poem. Yes, I know that either fire or ice could bring disaster to the world (or to someone's life). Now, i taste the ice, as fire was my past, and i know, sooner or later, this ice will eat me from the inside, the destruction that is caused by ice is totally different from fire. The flames will burn you down passionately into ashes, grasp everything with its might and tell its audience with a bold perfomance and statement.
Unlike fire, ice tends to be quieter. sliping through someone's heart with almost no trace to be found. Like a parasite, being so infectious and deadly. Still we have no idea that it's there, until it's too late.
---------- Post Merged at 09:38 AM ----------
Acquainted with the Night
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street, But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
A luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
Robert Frost
---------- Post Merged at 09:39 AM ----------
A Patch of Old Snow
There's a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest. It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of a day I've forgotten --
If I ever read it.
Robert Frost