It is currently 10:00 in the morning on Sunday, January 26th, and I have a long to-do list in front of me, which, on top of other tasks, includes everything I want to get done for the blog today. But I just don’t feel like doing those things just yet. Instead, I’m going to drink my coffee, eat a piece of the quiche I just pulled out of the oven, and relay some of my Sunday Morning Thoughts below.
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.
from “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” by William Wordsworth
Out of all the books I kept from college (English major here), the poetry anthologies are the ones I’m most grateful to my past self for holding onto, because that past self was not a poetry reader. The main poetry course I had to take for my major was quite challenging for me (again, as a reader who, up to that point, had disliked poetry). Learning all the technical rules, terms, and forms of poetry had me wanting to stay away even more. I don’t fault my professor, who was an accomplished poet and French poetry translator, since the course was meant to teach us those technical pieces; I only wish we had more time to analyze the words and context of the poems we focused on in class.
A couple of years ago I went through the few anthologies I didn’t end up selling back to the university, read every poem inside, and tabbed those that spoke to me. It is no surprise that almost all of them have something to do with nature, or love, or humanity, or have witty, perfect rhymes. Last year I started reading whole collections from individual poets, and I would like to pick that back up again. So if you have any recommendations for poets who write about nature, love, humanity, or are just plain brilliant, send them my way!
Have a lovely Sunday. ☆