vintage
Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.
T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land"
"The Waste Land" is a wrathful attack on modern civilisation, stretching not only to the horror of the Great War but attacking the society that bore it. In his sobering evocations of ancient myths and Shakespearean lines, T.S. Eliot contrasts contemporary society with the past, atheism with belief; thus bringing about the breakdown and dysfunction of the society of "Wasteland."
Louis NicholasPublished 6 years ago in PoetsLord Henry Wotton
Across a room I glanced Meeting auburn eyes That captivated my youth and held the universe inside Never have I seen two windows so wide open
Robyn Keeble MBEPublished 6 years ago in PoetsHomeric Heroism
To what extent did Homer view Odysseus as a heroic figure? Throughout the Odyssey, Homer emphasises Odysseus’s heroism whilst subtlety insisting on his self-sabotage. Odysseus’ heroism is shown by his being King of Ithaca and leader of his crew, alongside his divine status as champion of the gods, in his case Athene; echoing more ancient heroes like Hercules and Perseus. Yet if it was indeed Homer’s intention to present Odysseus as a hero, he is presented most peculiarly. To begin with, there is the problem of his lack of personal vigour. Unlike Achilles or Hercules, whose heroism stems from his outstanding abilities in battle, Odysseus’ heroism is based on stratagems, as seen on every occasion including his defeats. From Troy to Polyphemus’ Cave and to Ithaca, Odysseus wins by undermining the position of his enemies rather than a personal heroic confrontation, showing thus his great intelligence and cunning. Whilst at the same time alarming us with his slyness and his apparent willingness to sacrifice his men. Homer gives us many examples of Odysseus’ wiles on many occasions, such as in Book IX with the Ci-cones and in Book XII with Scylla and Charybdis. In the same way a Spartan would conceive of a bow and arrow as unmanly (which of course were the very symbolic instruments which Odysseus used to prove his worth), Odysseus’ cunning and his wit, so unique to him, is both the foundation and the main undermining quality of his heroism.
Louis NicholasPublished 6 years ago in PoetsAcross Many Waters
Lonely on a bus to the shore Feelings are expensive The day’s not done but I minus well be… I breathe into this deep space inside my chest
Mish GrahamPublished 6 years ago in PoetsThe Story of Christmas' Eve
Hidden away among the coastal Maine cold, Lies a love story of sorts that has yet to be told. Swaddled closely I held her so dear,
Rachael RumancekPublished 6 years ago in PoetsThe Values of Old
Books and stories can reveal much about the author who wrote them and the period at which they lived. Whether it be their dialect or actions, characters tend to reflect how people were during that time. In the poem Beowulf, one can learn the values of the Anglo-Saxon society. For example, the main hero Beowulf and others show strong characteristics of bravery, loyalty, and faithfulness to God.
Almárëa LaurësilPublished 6 years ago in PoetsA Soldier's Diary
How can something meant for protection Be twisted around To cause me affliction Wandering around I no longer know me No longer do I understand where I've been
Courtney HughesPublished 7 years ago in PoetsHannah for Hannah Cullwick
Crocus and Hartshorn washed off knives. A 'Dumb Waiter' delivers perriwinkles. The Footman's pantry is empty. Gall of Bullock and Beeswax shelved for future need.
Johnny VedmorePublished 7 years ago in PoetsI Have an Old Soul
I have an old soul My soul is the soul that once danced with the gypsy nomads, laughing with no care but to live passionately and love freely. It is the soul that has been touched by the good Victorian lady, a love of all things gilded, glamorous and dark. The gothic ink of the artist, poe, a fuel for the macabre fantasies of a young girl living the facade of a well-leashed house cat. My soul is the soul of the daughter who wanted to rebel. As the 20s roared and Gatsby reveled in frivolity, my soul was the soul of a girl who yearned to be a woman. To dance and to love Wildly. To be somebody ride or die. Somebody's Bonnie to Clyde. My soul is the soul that began as a force of liberation, rebirthing perpetually into something utterly oppressed.
Melanie castilloPublished 7 years ago in PoetsMy Name Was Caoimhe
Here is what I know: My name is Caoimhe. My wife cannot say my name correctly, but I cannot say hers either, so I suppose that is fair. My wife, Adalheidis, pretended to be a man for a long time. This is the only reason we are allowed to be married—the only reason we met. I am glad for it. She is my world; our son is my universe.
Media
I remember the shine of compact discs Using them as makeup mirrors Applying lipstick with giggling friends While another CD
A. R. AmbrosiPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Brown Ceramic Mug
Quietly sitting on an old wooden chair, I hear the hum of the machine heating the water in the brown ceramic mug. Darkness creeps through the window blanketing the small room as I rise to retrieve the small bag of leaves, ginger, and peach that would soon drown in the hot water in the brown ceramic mug. Beep! Beep! Beep! My trained brain responds automatically to happily reclaim my brown ceramic mug and plunge the bag of tea into the steaming liquid. Snatching a teaspoon from within the silverware drawer and pulling the sugar jar from the back of the dish-piled counter, I easily unscrew the lid and sprinkle some of the sweet crystals into the brown ceramic mug and give it a quick stir. The wooden floor creaks as I shuffle through the small room and up the stairs to another room full of books, a comfy armchair, and memories of a past life. Under the protection of a rouge blanket and comforted by a pillow made with love from a great grandmother who is now resting eternally, I enjoy my first sip of evening peace.