THINGS I LOVE: Poetry

I whispered, 'I am too young,'

And then, 'I am old enough';

Wherefore I threw a penny

To find out if I might love.

'Go and love, go and love, young man,

If the lady be young and fair.'

Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,

I am looped in the loops of her hair.

O love is the crooked thing,

There is nobody wise enough

To find out all that is in it,

For he would be thinking of love

Till the stars had run away

And the shadows eaten the moon.

Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,

One cannot begin it too soon.

- Brown Penny, William Butler Yeats

 The above poem is one of my most favourite.  You see, I have a thing for English; I studied it in fact (along with Media Studies).  Something about how symbols can become words that describe human emotions interests me.  It is astounding.  It is exciting.  Words are completely inferior to feeling, and yet they invoke feeling.  I have dabbled in poetry myself.  Poetry unlocks a world of hidden imagination in me.  There is something innately personal about abstract writing making perfect sense only to the author.  Of course, some poems are straightforward and a lot of mine are, but most of them are hidden beneath layers.  Why?  Because I couldn’t bear for them to be interpreted the wrong way, or worse – critiqued!  So they shall stay safely in the one and only published copy of my book of poems,  ‘This is How She Wept”...for now!