Poetry a day. Day 27: I do not love thee! by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

I promise to update the previous day’s poems soon. If I don’t, understand that I’ve been reading something which didn’t impact me much. Maybe it was work or something else. Today’s poem was a charm. Let me tell you about it.

I do not love thee! is one of the most heartbreaking poetry I’ve read in a recent time. There is always a feeling lying dead inside our heart for someone. You are afraid to call it love because you are afraid that if it doesn’t reciprocates, it will shatter your heart and break a little piece of warmth in your cold heart. And yet your stupid mind will not stop thinking about it. And it will be jealous of everything that person is doing because you want to live in that moment. You don’t want this selfish lonely path that you’ve chosen yourself. You want to be with that person.

We keep reminding ourselves that we don’t love them and yet we grow jealous of all the beautiful things around them. Of the stars that can see that person and yet shine bright, of all the voices that the person can hear. You don’t want those voices to be heart. You somehow stupidly want that person to only hear the melody of your voice and nothing more.

Jealousy thy name is love.


Poetry a day. Day 18: A Song by Sarah Fyge Egerton

How pleasant is love,

When forbid if unknown;

It is, isn’t it? When you know a love cannot be consumed or when hearts can’t be one, it does look fascinating in a way, isn’t it? Of course it is wrong, of course it is dangerous, of course things won’t be the way you would like it to be, but what is love if her passion is approved. The feeling of love in her heart would be done then. Why?

There are questions and there are answers for everything. What makes us humans is that we can have so many opinions about everything. To each his own. To swim in a turbulent ocean is to know that there will always be troubles and those troubles can be dangerous. Yet you know that you can swim through the disturbances, you won’t mind any trouble and you will keep swimming even if it meant you will die. These are extreme thoughts and I would not endorse such acts but who are we to control an adventurous mind?

We try to be silent, when frequencies with the other heart don’t match. When things go down, we keep our chin up and smile, even if it meant drowning in a pool of your own tears. Because helpless love can’t be saved and a broken heart might never love someone again.

Poetry a day. Day 17: The Sick Rose by William Blake

O Rose thou art sick.

The invisible worm

That flies in the night

In the howling storm:


Has found out thy bed

Of crimson joy:

And his dark secret love

Does thy life destroy.


Poets base poems out of beautiful metaphors and this poem was no less. Filled with metaphors and beautiful wordplay, this little poetry was quite complicated in itself. The worm in the second line is everything that is beautiful and sad about this poem.

In our daily life, there is always a storm. A storm that acts like a danger to any love that resides in our heart. And that worm, that stupid worm will destroy everything that it infects. The darkness will kill the love and claim victory over a wounded heart. Maybe my thoughts are still not exactly sync with what Mr. Blake is telling in this poem but that’s ok. My mind tonight is at peace so I’ll leave it at that. Some other time…

Poetry a day. Day 15:Warming her Pearls by Carol Ann Duffy.

There are so many themes in this poem. I want to just explore two themes that is in my mind after reading this.

This is a poem which speaks about a maids love interest towards her mistress. Umm… A lesbian affair. Now, we know how voices singing a homosexual affair used to be suppressed because many people found them uncomfortable. In this poem, it’s not exactly a love affair but a maid’s uncontrolled lust towards her mistress. It took me a while to understand that a pearl is the medium through which maid voices herself. She talks about how she keep thinking about her mistress and how she longs for closeness. Listen to this 

“she’s beautiful. I dream about her in my attic bed; picture her dancing with tall men, puzzled by my faint, persistent scent beneath her French perfume, her milky stones.”

The maid beautifully describes her mistress, her body, the day she spends with her, the time when she miss seeing her. The way she see every movement of her mistress in her head. The way she undresses herself and how she sips naked into her bed, all alone while the maid burns. There is no control one can have in their mind and I am sure that’s what the poet feels. Such were the times, when relationships beyond the norms of society barely existed in literature.

The second and my most favourite feeling is that of unrequited love. Ever felt like a lifeless body floating in a timeless matter and empty layer of Milky Way. The moment where love ends before it even starts? Such is the force and the sadness of unrequited love. And I completely felt what the maid was trying to tell in this poem. She burnt knowing that her love will not be consummated. Or maybe lust in this case. The maid undresses the mistress in her imagination although both are not in the same place but share the same house. Maid sleeps alone. They are seperate only by the rules. By the ignorance and the protocols of the society. And between the loneliness and the seperation, the feelings in her will burn and die a slow death.

Poetry a day. Day 14: Vision by May Theilgaard Watts

I love reading happy poems occasionally. Thats the reason I brought Penguin poems for love. There are things that can make you sad and there are things that can break you. And for me, that was the core of writing or reading anything. It’s like taking that phrase from Rockstar “Good music comes from Broken hearts.” I’ve always been fascinated by how a little hurt, a small rejection can break your heart and that broken heart can weave magical words. Hell, I wrote Hyde Park in that sense. I know them feels.

“Vision” was a happy poem where the poet describes how she looks at world after her eyes were kissed by her lover last night. Of course, that’s the imagination, right? We tend to not think much when the mind is happy. A lot of fantasies, an unimaginable world, a seperate law under which no sad entity exists. Such is the beauty of happy poems. I had to google the phrase “candlelight on butter” to see what that looks like. Funny, I still don’t know how it looks like.

But here is the second beautiful thought which I found myself exploring after reading this poem. A kiss. A kiss by a lover is indeed beautiful. I am by the beach, looking at sunrise. There is this mighty sun coming out of clouds and a vast ocean of hungry tides in front of me. And yet I am lost in her eyes, with my hand in her hand. And before I can kiss her, the birds will stop singing for a while and the sun might even pause in my universe, because for me, that instance, that moment of losing into her, carries the beauty of this entire universe. I just want to stay in my past someday. And now, I might even shed a tear, just out of sheer happiness. Isn’t this lovely? This is the reason one reads poetry, right? 

Poetry a day. Day 12: First Shown by William Barnes

I think I am beginning to feel the weight of love all over my shoulder. It’s a complicated procedure these days. To fall in love and then fall out of it. I want to assume that things in the olden times were simple and love was an emotion that was captured in its raw form from the writers of that era.

That’s what Mr. Barnes poetry does. It talks about how the time is right for him to meet the person who he loves. A voice so sweet, a mind that drives energy and attention.

And I begin to think of future. A future where there won’t be any tears or pain. A time when someone would be mine, and mine alone and nothing else in this world will make sense anymore.

Poetry a day. Day 11: Alone by Maya Angelou.

“Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody , Can make it out here alone.”

What if you’re not thinking about it correctly. You’ll figure it out soon. You are a lonely, miserable soul. If only in this race to make money, we make some really good friends. I have good friends, and I really love them. I am glad to have so many amazing people in my life. For some reason, I want to be left alone. For a while. But deviating away from the thought of this poem, I want to make it on my own, in this foreign land. Maybe, I’ll not listen to Maya for this time. Maybe.