March of the White Rabbits!

This month I am going to be creative! One of my favourite past times is writing poetry and since I had my some exams this week I wrote a poem based on an experience I had during my Statistics exam. It is called "Cappy's Cough".

There was a sudden noise

Abrupt and harsh

Spluttering, something nearly stifled

It was as constant as "friends" when you have gum in the bus park

And then it persisted

We sighed and sighed and rolled our eyes

"Oh Christ!" Hayden muttered

Nigel the Invigilator frowned

He caught Eileen's eye

He knew what to do

A glass of water may quash the distraction

Tick the proverbial box

Fingers crossed  

Silence 

I got to question 14, page 25 of the Edexcel paper

And then it began again

 I would love to share this with my friends and I'm thinking of starting a poetry club. The wonderful thing about poetry is that there is no bad poetry. I must admit half rhymes annoy me but some of the best poems don't rhyme. There is something so romantic and expressive about poetry and I am drawn to the way words and phrases can be manipulated by tone and format. One of my favourite poems of all time is by Vikram Seth. It's called "All You Who Sleep Tonight".  

All you who sleep tonight

Far from the ones you love,

No hand to left or right 

And emptiness above -

Know that you aren't alone

The whole world shares your tears,

Some for two nights or one,

And some for all their years.

It makes me feel sad yet peaceful. There is something very comforting about global mourning! There is something troubling or upsetting going on in everyone's lives all the time. I think also the poet is trying to convey that people should be allowed to worry. Often we are told to degrade our own problems. At least we're not starving African children. At least we've not experienced poverty or abuse.  Another of my favourite poems is "When You Are Old" by Yeats. I think it is beautiful and peaceful and optimistic without naivety. 

WHEN you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

What are you going to do this month to be creative? Will it be a big project or a small one? Either way enjoy 

nERD