"A Boat Beneathe A Sunny Sky" By: Lewis Carroll

Lewis Carrol is hands down one of the greatest poets out there. Known for his novel Alice in Wonderland I suppose most people didn't know he wrote poetry as well. Two of his poems in particular have really spoke to me over the past year. Poetry has a funny way of doing that, speaking to you I mean. It's a lot like the lyrics to songs... lyrics for the tone deaf. So if you write songs and can't sing... turn to poetry! But anyways, one of his poems that I've thoroughly enjoyed was "A Boat Beneath A Sunny Sky" In this poem he uses a dreamy description of a boat beneath the sun. I picture it in my mind as a summer sunset casting its warm rays over a white canoe. I put up a picture at the bottom of my blog that I really like that I think portrays the boat perfectly. In two stanzas Carroll inserts lines about children. He uses imagery when he says "Children three that nestle near" and he creates a warm atmosphere with his words. But in this poem he also uses imagery that sends a chill down your spine, "Autumn frosts have slain July." He speaks of a girl named Alice in this poem that haunts his dreams. This Alice is supposedly the same Alice that inspired him when writing Alice in Wonderland. Carroll had supposedly held on to a crush he had formed when he was in elementary school and had wrote about her. At the very end of the poem Carroll writes "In a Wonderland they lie, dreaming as the days go by, dreaming as the summers die. Ever-drifting down the stream, Lingering in the golden gleam, Life what is it... but a dream?" This last part is key. He expresses how childhood and life is fleeting. How it is but a moment, a whisper, a dream. So these are my thoughts on it and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky

A BOAT beneath a sunny sky,

Lingering onward dreamily

In an evening of July —

Children three that nestle near,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Pleased a simple tale to hear —

Long has paled that sunny sky:

Echoes fade and memories die:

Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,

Alice moving under skies

Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,

Dreaming as the days go by,

Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream —

Lingering in the golden gleam —

Life, what is it but a dream?

Different Eyes By: Caroline Stewart

Okay so I wanted to start my first post with an original poem. My dream is to one day publish a book filled with poetry. I feel like good classical poetry is one thing that's slipping away. I want to be the first successful modern poet. (Along with my career of teaching high school English). So I wrote this poem on WWI. It was an assignment but I really put my heart into it... instead of doing the minimum of required work like I normally would. Anyways I tried to encompass a lot of the aspects on WWI in this poem, the gas, the misconceptions of the war from the old men sitting at home, and mainly the utter pointlessness of the war. The lines,

"But, no he’s fighting for a purpose, his country,

fighting for honor, nation’s pride, and dignity." shows the nationalism that led many soldiers during this war. In the poem I also discuss how the war seems never ending. I give my friend Becca Murdoch credit to the title...it was pretty clever! Hope you enjoy!

Different Eyes

“Onward, Onward!” they cry,

yet who are they to say?

They see not the trenches where we lie,

They see not the blood and fire,

They see not men ripped by barbed wire.

And as endless moon meets a never-ending day,

Old men sit back and judge us in dismay.

They do not know, they do not know,

How it feels watching eyes glaze over, friend or foe,

They do not know the never ending uncertainty,

on whether or not we’ll return to family.

Beautiful land once called home,

But countries, like ravaged dogs,

at their mouths did foam.

Brutal gases, unanticipated fogs,

and inch by inch we crawl,

hoping this bloody war will end for all.

Love, love, please return,

Please assure me of this,

You will not break or burn.

Please avow me this,

That if indeed guns do hiss,

Please assure me you will live in perfect bliss.

That you will feel minimum pain,

that your life will mean a greater gain.

Yet I feel so, so alone,

Yet if for our country your blood would atone,

I would have a sense of peace.

Oh, if this war would just cease.

“Daddy, daddy,” please come back,

yet who is the man she calls dad?

Only letters yellowed by age in a stack,

tells her of what she’s never had.

But, no he’s fighting for a purpose, his country,

fighting for honor, nation’s pride, and dignity.

Yet does honor mean the loss of many a life,

Does pride mean causing unnecessary strife?

Does a four year old girl with bright blue eyes,

Losing her dad she never knew,

Does that seem fair to you?

No this belief in honor, dignity, and pride,

Is just one of Europe’s lies.

Smoke-filled, gray skies,

Maggots, vermin, ungodly flies,

Surround my every day mind,

I go a bit mad, I find.

The western battlefield aglow,

the cannons behind us began to blow.

Another endless night leads into a never ending day,

The divine being above, on his remote, hits replay.

New Beginnings

To  poeddicts (poet addicts) everywhere I hope I can do you justice. I'm starting this blog to share poems that are most dear to me and to explain why they mean so much. I'm planning on covering a variety of my favorites from Lewis Carroll to Sara Teasdale! I hope this blog helps you discover a love for poetry you never thought you had! I hope this blog leads to a greater discovery for me as well. Poetry is the neatest thing, it's written now and was written hundreds of years ago and much of the poetry encompass many similar emotions/situations. To think, that even though the way the words were written and spoken were much different than they are today, we experience many of the same emotions as the poets experience hundreds of years ago. For example when Edgar Allen Poe writes his poem "Alone" it reminds of us of how we feel when loved ones are taken away or when Sarah Teasdale writes Barter were reminded about why the world is such a wonderfully beautiful place to live in. The fact that one person can write how they feel and it last hundreds of years is an amazing thing in and of itself. And I, Caroline Grace, hopefully will be able to not only discuss these amazing poets and their works but someday accomplish the same astronomical feat.

Caroline Grace