Welcome back all! As April is National Poetry Month, I figured it would be a fantastic idea to channel my inner Davis Creach, NA ’18, and resurrect Poem For Your Thoughts!

As there hasn’t been an article published under this title in almost a year, I was thinking that choosing a featured comment would be a little out of the question, and my belief was validated, seeing as how there are no comments on the last Poem For Your Thoughts.  Mr. Creach published an original poem every single week of last school year, and I suspect it was too much to expect the comments to keep rolling in.

Today we have selected perhaps the world’s most famous poet and and a favorite among English teachers: William Shakespeare.  Our second piece will be an attempt by yours truly. Do keep in mind I am not Davis Creach, so take your expectations and set them at least twelve feet below where they currently reside.

Poem One: Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

  So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

  So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Thoughts: Wow, Shakespeare has such a way with words.  He heavily relies on imagery in this sonnet which really helps the reader see the life in his words.  It is also the perfect time of year for a sonnet like this, as we should be finally seeing the first buds popping up soon.  It seems even more relevant as prom approaches. The words of the sonnet also remind me of “Wake Me up when September ends” by Green Day.  Anyone whose listen to the song will know where I’m coming from with that one.

Poem Two: Softcover Castaway

The wooden chair creaks as the pages diverge,

While oak and pine tower above.

The temperate air means snow will not resurge,

And songs of birds float, maybe of a dove.

The air swiftly whirls by on invisible wings.

My mind is pulled, my journey abruptly obscured.

I hear once again as an unseen creature sings

Secrets that I had not known are revealed.

As I flip the pages, I’m abruptly hit by a falling broom.

The weather too rough, I get up for the door.

Inside I find my place in the living room.

I flip back and slip into my mind once more.

-R.H.