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I chose this poem because it takes an interesting stance on originality, the taking patent of others words, being biased, the squared restrictions in society, making statements based on knowledge, and not fantasy, and poetry in its own unique context.

-Arianna

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Irwin Mercer

When we were born with no possession.

The love received was our concession

No worries, no fears, no troubles, no fuss.

In mother's arms we put our trust.

But as we grew, we looked and craved,

and all too soon became enslaved.

The more we saw, the more we wanted.

Our quest for more became undaunted.

Our thirst for more could not be quenched.

The more we grasped, the tighter we clenched.

We scampered and gathered and gathered to hoard.

Possessions became our master and lord.

And when we're old with our treasures all heaped,

a sad example of what greed has reaped.

Our fists still clenched in a grasping motion,

till at our death, when our hands are opened.

When you look at some of the major problems in the world, greed is defiantly one of the main reasons as to why those problems have occurred and why they are “so hard to fix”. Recently more then ever greed has been bothering me a lot and so therefor I decided to find a poem that described it.

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I have chosen this poem because I felt like it is relatable, not because I have lost someone I truly loved, but because I have lost many people that I held dear. I left those people exactly 3 years ago and I have barely been speaking to them ever since. The last phrase of the poem “For nothing now can never come to any good,” is exactly how I felt inside when I walked out the school gate and looked back at them.

Christopher

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A Child Said What Is The Grass- Walt Whitman

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A Child Said What Is The Grass- Walt Whitman

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A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands,
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,
Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?
Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Canuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them,
It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers’ laps,
And here you are the mothers’ laps.
This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roof of mouths.
O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues,
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.
I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.
What do you think has become of the young and old men?
And what do you think has become of the women and children?
They are alive and well somewhere,
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceased the moment life appeared.
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier.

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The best lessons are learnt through pain - Marinela Reka

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The best lessons are learnt through pain - Marinela Reka

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I chose this poem because I can relate to this, whenever I fail, I learn to pick myself up again. Failure and pain is hard to take in, but that´s when we learn the most about life and ourselves. Reading this poem makes me realize that everyone will go through tough times.
Abuzar

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Silas poem
I have chosen the poem Invictus by William Henley. I have chosen this poem because I can fall back on it. Whenever times are tough or life hands me lemons, I grit my teeth and read Invictus, it gives me faith that I can power though.

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This is a song written by Hans Philip and Jens Ole Mccoy, aka Ukendt Kunstner

WHY I CHOSE IT:
Why did I choose this song ahead of Shakespeare, Henley and other world-wide known poets? I chose this song/poem because it I relate to it very easily, perhaps not on literal terms but how everybody has long nights and how tough life can be at times.
tjeo

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I was once asked at a job interview the question 'why do I get out of bed everyday?' I spoke for about 15 minutes, fumbling for an answer. In hindsight I wish that I could have been as succinct as Langston Hughes.
Alastair