Gentleman jove• Show poetry

I don't really write poetry . .but my friendd uses this site and made me join so here i am. .


From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were-I have not seen
As others saw-I could not bring
My passions from a common spring
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I lov'd, I lov'd alone.
Then-in my childhood-in the dawn
Of a most stormy life-was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In it's autumn tint of gold-
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by-
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.     -Poe

"Do we after all seek rest, peace and pleasure in our inquiries? No, only truth . . even if it be the most abhorrent and ugly."   -Nietzsche


These are all my friends who have names here at AP! Check them out. .though most of them don't have anything posted, like me.
  allpoetry.com/poets/Insane%20Hatter
allpoetry.com/poets/black-eyeliner
  allpoetry.com/poets/freedom%20in%20blue
allpoetry.com/poets/trust%20in%20ravens
  allpoetry.com/poets/tin%20raven
allpoetry.com/poets/storybone
  allpoetry.com/poets/unforgiven%20evil
allpoetry.com/poets/carnival%20of%20bones


Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies!
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he asprie?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what are,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dream hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears;
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger, burning bring,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?     -Blake