![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I have very little poetry in my soul.
I don't mean that as a bad thing, necessarily -- just when I was little, I was too busy reading high fantasy and its hokier cousins and making up my own worlds (with some admittedly recycled plots FROM the books I read, but what can you expect when you're seven years old?), but I never got much into poetry. I've read some I like, but it's not exactly something I can pick up a book of and follow; I sort of ... not so much get bored, or lose interest, but I get distracted.
Really, when left to my own devices, my attention wanders like a butterfly on speed. My "foundations," so to speak (my fandoms/major interests) remain solid, but the rest of me -- poof. O hay, my coworkers are dueling with cardboard tubes again, that sort of thing.
I had a teacher in ... fourth grade? Who insisted we recite (and eventually memorize) a new poem every few weeks; I think that was actually my first exposure to Edgar Allen Poe (because my parents are not so fond of the gothic horror, and we learned "The Bells," which I can still ... somewhat partly recite) and T.S. Elliot and Robert Frost and a whole bunch of others. I liked them, but I hardly went haring after them because of it. (I think that's around the time I first started reading The Lord of the Rings. I was, uh. Easily distracted even then. 8D)
I even had my time where I tried my hand at poetry, very proud of myself (fifth grade? around then). I took myself Very Seriously and I wrote Great And Epic Stories In Rhyme and my teachers were impressed (or maybe they just acted that way), but uh. At least, by the time I became a teenager, I'd gotten over that stage. XD Now I just occasionally toss out "lyrics" for any band AU that's willing to take me. 8D
But today on this total random whim (because I remembered a particular line and for some reason I'm writing MaLoki fic so post-/pre-apocalyptic catchphrases, so to speak, are in my head) I went and looked up Hollow Men by T.S. Elliot. I am hardly the first person to suddenly "discover" this poem, but, uh, damn.
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.
... today in training class we're watching Yet Another Video By The Kind Of Scary Lady Who's Just Selling Common Sense, I have a notebook and new pens (yay supply closets!) and ... uh.
Forget songfics, baybee, I ... I disavow any knowledge of future posts to follow this line of thought. [whistles]
I don't mean that as a bad thing, necessarily -- just when I was little, I was too busy reading high fantasy and its hokier cousins and making up my own worlds (with some admittedly recycled plots FROM the books I read, but what can you expect when you're seven years old?), but I never got much into poetry. I've read some I like, but it's not exactly something I can pick up a book of and follow; I sort of ... not so much get bored, or lose interest, but I get distracted.
Really, when left to my own devices, my attention wanders like a butterfly on speed. My "foundations," so to speak (my fandoms/major interests) remain solid, but the rest of me -- poof. O hay, my coworkers are dueling with cardboard tubes again, that sort of thing.
I had a teacher in ... fourth grade? Who insisted we recite (and eventually memorize) a new poem every few weeks; I think that was actually my first exposure to Edgar Allen Poe (because my parents are not so fond of the gothic horror, and we learned "The Bells," which I can still ... somewhat partly recite) and T.S. Elliot and Robert Frost and a whole bunch of others. I liked them, but I hardly went haring after them because of it. (I think that's around the time I first started reading The Lord of the Rings. I was, uh. Easily distracted even then. 8D)
I even had my time where I tried my hand at poetry, very proud of myself (fifth grade? around then). I took myself Very Seriously and I wrote Great And Epic Stories In Rhyme and my teachers were impressed (or maybe they just acted that way), but uh. At least, by the time I became a teenager, I'd gotten over that stage. XD Now I just occasionally toss out "lyrics" for any band AU that's willing to take me. 8D
But today on this total random whim (because I remembered a particular line and for some reason I'm writing MaLoki fic so post-/pre-apocalyptic catchphrases, so to speak, are in my head) I went and looked up Hollow Men by T.S. Elliot. I am hardly the first person to suddenly "discover" this poem, but, uh, damn.
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.
... today in training class we're watching Yet Another Video By The Kind Of Scary Lady Who's Just Selling Common Sense, I have a notebook and new pens (yay supply closets!) and ... uh.
Tags:
