Sometimes, it's just a poem.

[xp_wallflower]

Why does the school system insist we analyse poetry? Can't we all just enjoy a nice turn of phrase without wondering whether the creator was really an impotent nihilist with narcissistic tendencies intent on taking over the world through song?

Comments

[x-wither.livejournal.com]

That's so you can recognize it when some evil genius eventually attempts to take over the world using carefully crafted poetry.

[x-emplate.livejournal.com]

Ah, I beg to differ. Sometimes a poem is far more than a poem. I give to you now Britain's greatest literary contribution of the late 19th century: William McGonagall. Behold, the heart-rending majesty of his tour de force:

The Tay Bridge Disaster

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.

‘Twas about seven o’clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clouds seem’d to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem’d to say –
‘I’ll blow down the bridge of Tay’.

When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers’ hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say –
‘I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay’.

So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers’ hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov’d most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.

I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.

Yes, Sir William, we have indeed.

[x-wallflower-.livejournal.com]

Truly, a thing of beauty and deep majesty beyond the ken of mortal kind. I must now sit and ponder upon the true meaning of this Prince of the written word.

*grins*