Hi

I’m back had been to mums for a week and had a blast. It is always fabulous to go to the home that you grew up in….. sleep in the same bed where u slept all ur life…… Ya home is where ma is…. where pa is…. it is the next best place to heaven…. where ur secure and where nothing can touch you. I seldom go there these days for reasons unknown to me!!! but whenever i do….. I am again the small kid in my room… Thankfully for me, Ma and Pa never changed my room at all so it is the same whenever i go there… the peace, the simplicity, the no judging me thing is so marvellous that i really am upset whenever i have to come back.

Donno maybe i am in nostalgia again or whatever i am putting in my favorite poems in today’s post. I start with my most favoritest shakespeare’s sonnet “Marriage of true minds” this was part of my english language curriculum in college and i cd write pages on that so much that my teacher had to actually just give me all the marks and ask me to stop writing…. I dont think she even read the whole thing. I already put in Solitary reaper in my last post so wont repeat that. The next poem is my mom’s favorite “Daffodils” by wordsworth then it is Tennyson’s “home they brought her warrior dead” and last my favorite “Annabelle” by Edgar Allan Poe (All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream -Edgar Allen Poe)

Shakespeare talks about the constancy of Love. The principal theme of Sonnet 116 is that love is constant despite the corrosive power of Time and chance. The sentiment expressed here was familiar to Shakespeare’s readers and to us from the customary marriage ceremony.
“The marriage of true minds” is a phrase both widely used and difficult to understand, at least in the way Shakespeare meant it. When we speak of a “marriage of the minds” we get around the problem of what “true” means. The notion of compatible intellects is certainly part of the original phrase, but in Shakespeare the word “marriage” is less neutral; he’s speaking of a total relationship—both intellectual and erotic. “True minds” doesn’t mean “authentic minds,” but “faithful spirits”; “truth” in the Renaissance still had “fidelity” as one of its primary senses.
If you follow this point, you can see how Shakespeare gets on to the topic of constancy in love. Love really isn’t love at all, he says, if it bends under circumstances or alters because the world around it is in a constant state of alteration. Love isn’t an affair of convenience, but resolute, like “an ever-fixèd mark” (a seamark: some static object used to guide navigation). Like a seamark, love should weather all tempests without tribulation, serving like a star to wandering barks. The poet says that no obstacle is possible in the meeting of two hearts. The world and its lovers too are errant, and need stable principles for guidance; love is imagined as an almost external thing, beyond the shifting sensations of the lover.
At the start of the sonnet’s third quatrain, the narrator asserts even though Time inevitably exacts its toll on physical beauty and leads to the “doom” of mortality, true love remains. “Love’s not Time’s fool” captures the gist of the sonnet as a whole.
The ending couplet, though, injects a false note into the text. The narrator challenges others to the impossible task of disproving his argument that true love is constant and then uses both his own verse and the existence of love at-large as his proof.

Daffodils
william wordsworth

I WANDER’D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch’d in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed — and gazed — but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
.

That is about my most favortiest poems…. I totally forgot about Home they brought her warrior dead…. thanks Christy for reminding me about it!!! Whenever i go down this lane of all these poems I totally get weepy and giddy!!!

Nothing more today will stop at this juncture cant say more !!!! need I????