A2K College - Chapter Two: The Craft of Poetry

The Moon



Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou seemest most charming to my sight;
As I gaze upon thee in the sky so high,
A tear of joy does moisten mine eye.

Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the Esquimau in the night;
For thou lettest him see to harpoon the fish,
And with them he makes a dainty dish.

Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the fox in the night,
And lettest him see to steal the grey goose away
Out of the farm-yard from a stack of hay.

Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the farmer in the night,
and makes his heart beat high with delight
As he views his crops by the light in the night.

Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the eagle in the night,
And lettest him see to devour his prey
And carry it to his nest away.

Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the mariner in the night
As he paces the deck alone,
Thinking of his dear friends at home.

Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the weary traveller in the night;
For thou lightest up the wayside around
To him when he is homeward bound.

Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the lovers in the night
As they walk through the shady groves alone,
Making love to each other before they go home.

Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the poacher in the night;
For thou lettest him see to set his snares
To catch the rabbit and the hares.
William Mcgonagall

Poetry comes from within. Similar to other arts, I find it ludicrous to believe that one would need to study the craft as if it will somehow make them a better poet.

Today we have schmucks who believe they are poets because they can put 3 or 4 words together and get some group of mindless ninnies to clap like demented dweebs on crack. Meanwhile, persons who have spent decades working at their art, are continually overlooked. Why? Because everybody has their own likes and dislikes. Turning it into a college course is little more (perhaps nothing more) than lining the pockets of the overseers of higher education institutions.

Poetry and other writing formats, similar to music, painting, sculpture and the rest of the arts are best left unstudied. As soon as a study begins, the beauty which first was there becomes tarnished.

William McGonagallFrom Wikipedia, the free encyclopediaJump to: navigation, search William Topaz McGonagall


William Topaz McGonagall (March 1825[1] – 29 September 1902) was a Scottish weaver, doggerel poet and actor. He won notoriety as an extremely bad poet who exhibited no recognition of or concern for his peers' opinions of his work.

He wrote some 200 poems, including the infamous "Tay Bridge Disaster", which are widely regarded as some of the worst in English literature. Groups throughout Scotland engaged him to make recitations from his works; contemporary descriptions of these performances indicate that many of these listeners were appreciating McGonagall's skill as a comic music hall character, and as such his readings may be considered a form of performance art. Collections of his verse continue in popularity, with several volumes available today.

Good point.

Led by your heart and light it with your life.