Writing Poetry posted April 14, 2016 Chapters:  ...13 14 -15- 16... 


Exceptional
This work has reached the exceptional level
musings of a poet on a poet

A chapter in the book Of Poets and Poetry

An Ode to Keats

by ~Dovey

Your kindred soul links to me
Through pursuits of poetry.
Almost twice your tender years,
I wish you'd lived long as your peers.

I both regard and respect
The work you've composed, and yet,
I lament loss and wish for more,
Gone at just one plus twenty-four.

What of the works left to write?
They dance in my dreams at night.
Titles written on blank pages,
Fragments writ in stilted stages.

Whisper them into my ear,
I'll channel Keats for all to hear.
Live to pursue your lost dreams,
I'll scribble them on pristine reams.

It will be just like you heard,
Way back when poetic word
From bards of passion and of mirth
Whisked words on wing back down to earth.

Glorious fountain of your youth
Bubbling with wisdom, forsooth,
God left this debt in arrears,
By plucking you in early years.

But who'd blame him for that choice?
He claimed a muse with golden voice,
To grace his table as he dines,
And sips with prophets sweetest wines.

Pray tell, what manna, in his haste,
Was taken, hence we long to taste,
Upon our meek and mortal plane,
God sent to your cold grave in vain.

What words do I yet long to hear,
I beg you, whisper in my ear,
From your perch, on lofty wing,
Share the view, whence angels sing.

Your kindred soul links to me
Through pursuits of poetry.
I'm almost twice your tender years,
And long to walk amongst your peers.



Recognized




An Ode is a poem praising and glorifying a person, place or thing.


John Keats (1795 - 1821)
Keats was 25 when he died of tuberculosis. Read his biography here:
https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poet/john-keats

The angel in this picture (courtesy of Pixabay) reminded me of the picture of John Keats from his bio. I was inspired by the odes Keats wrote to several poets he admired, and by the poem posted below particularly.

Ode Poem by John Keats

Bards of Passion and of Mirth,
Ye have left your souls on earth!
Have ye souls in heaven too,
Double lived in regions new?
Yes, and those of heaven commune
With the spheres of sun and moon;
With the noise of fountains wound'rous,
And the parle of voices thund'rous;
With the whisper of heaven's trees
And one another, in soft ease.

Seated on Elysian lawns
Brows'd by none but Dian's fawns;
Underneath large blue-bells tented,
Where the daisies are rose-scented,
And the rose herself has got
Perfume which on earth is not;
Where the nightingale doth sing
Not a senseless, tranced thing,
But divine melodious truth;
Philosophic numbers smooth;
Tales and golden histories
Of heaven and its mysteries.

Thus ye live on high, and then
On the earth ye live again;
And the souls ye left behind you
Teach us, here, the way to find you,
Where your other souls are joying,
Never slumber'd, never cloying.
Here, your earth-born souls still speak
To mortals, of their little week;
Of their sorrows and delights;
Of their passions and their spites;
Of their glory and their shame;
What doth strengthen and what maim.
Thus ye teach us, every day,
Wisdom, though fled far away.

Bards of Passion and of Mirth,
Ye have left your souls on earth!
Ye have souls in heaven too,
Double-lived in regions new!


John Keats
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