English poetry hates me

[xp_wallflower]

We are drawn to the edges, to our own
parapets and sea-walls; finding our lives
in relief, in some forked storm.

Returning with our unimaginable gifts,
badged with salt and blood,
we have forgotten how to walk.

Thinking how much more we wanted
when what we had was all there was;

looking too late to the ones we loved.
we stretch out our hands as we fall.

- Robin Robertson "Apart"

Read and discuss...

((Have I mentioned how much I loathe poetry? If I wanted to be depressed, I'd go watch people club baby seals to death. I swear to God if I fail my English exam there will be blood, and teeth and possibly, just possibly if I'm feeling really generous, pain. ))

Comments

[x-empath.livejournal.com]

Thinking how much more we wanted
when what we had was all there was.

This is a perfect example of always wanting more and not wanting what you already had. I believe once upon a time, that case rang true on all accounts.

[x-traitor.livejournal.com]

If you need study help, I'd glad to be of assistance. English poetry is usually what I'm reading when you see me in the library.

[x-penance.livejournal.com]

Not all of the poetry is depressing, Laurie. There is the Shakespeare sonnets and Wordsworth and Yeats and all sorts of poems that are not depressing.

[x-wallflower-.livejournal.com]

That would be a great help, actually. I've had some help with Shakespeare but poetry still eludes me a lot of the time.