Day 65: Poetry II  

Posted by Sarah in , , ,

Today's Task: 1/29

"Learn a poem by heart."

I love this task. In fact, it reminded me of a poem I memorized from an American History class back in middle school:

A moth-eaten rag
on a worm-eaten pole
can hardly begin
to stir a man's soul.
'tis the deeds that were done
'neath that moth-eaten rag
when the pole was a staff
and that rag was a flag.

I don't remember who wrote it or what war it was during; but I never forgot the words. This poem comes to my mind almost any time I get into a flag burning debate or discussion. It's not the flag itself that's so precious to people. It's what it represents. The same could be said for negative connotations associated with other flags like the Nazi or Confederate colors.

Do any of you have a favorite poem or even a play excerpt which stirs your soul? If so, share. If not, I suggest you scrounge the bookshelf until you find one. :)

To help you out, here are a few of the more popular and commonly recited poems:

A Dream Deferred - Langston Hughes
Death - Emily Dickenson
The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost
The Tyger - William Blake
Death be Not Proud - John Donne
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night - Dylan Thomas
Jabberwocky - Lewis Carrol

and for the adventurous soul with a strong memory:
The Raven - Poe

This entry was posted on Thursday, January 29, 2009 at Thursday, January 29, 2009 and is filed under , , , . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .


I first read this poem in one of my poetry writing classes and its message is one I just love.

"A Work of Artifice"
The bonsai tree
in the attractive pot
could have grown eight feet tall
on the side of a mountain
till split by lightning.
But a gardener carefully pruned it.
It is nine inches high.
Every day as he
whittles back the branches
the gardener croons,
It is your nature
to be small and cozy,
domestic and weak;
how lucky, little tree,
to have a pot to grow in.
With living creatures
one must begin very early
to dwarf their growth:
the bound feet,
the crippled brain,
the hair in curlers,
the hands you love to touch.
-Marge Piercy

January 29, 2009 at 4:18 PM

aww dani. That is so sad yet so true.

I felt the same way when I heard about goldfish and how they grow. Now it upsets me to see them in small bowls. :/

January 29, 2009 at 4:24 PM

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