Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Journal #18: Poem

Okay, so we're supposed to write a romanticism poem? Alrighty...roses are red, violets are blue, and a bunch of other stuff. Instead of writing a poem, I'm going to take this assignment liberally and talk about Romanticism poems instead.

One of the first uses of the phrase "roses are red, violets are blue" can be traced back to Sir Edmund Spenser in "The Faerie Queene", which was written in 1590. The poem reads "It was upon a Sommers shynie day, When Titan faire his beames did display, In a fresh fountaine, farre from all mens vew, She bath'd her brest, the boyling heat t'allay; She bath'd with roses red, and violets blew, And all the sweetest flowres, that in the forrest grew." (I'm not going to lie, I got this information from wikipedia and I really don't care). Poets and other random people have continued to use this phrase throughout time and this line has changed to things like "Roses are red, violets are blue, this poems stinks, and so do you."

I read some other people's poems and they are so humiliating that I refuse to write one myself. I can't rhyme like at all...cheese, geez, moo, coo, blah, blah, blah. That would be the extent of my poem, and everyone would laugh at me and I would probably cry and I don't need anymore stress in my life. My junior year is jammed packed with weighted classes and I feel like their repeatedly kicking me in the face and in the stomach. Next year will be wonderful...two weighted classes (plus Art IV) and a bunch of other blow off classes. It will be beautiful, and I am very excited for it.

This is the end of my journal. My hatred for poetry is...eternal.

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