I've been reading a good bit of poetry lately - I go through phases on occasion where a particular poet really seems to speak to me. Anyway, I came across this poem today and had to share it.
Love and Friendship by Emily Bronte
Love is like the wild rose-briar
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I've also been through a little spell of writing some poetry. It's pretty bad, so it likely won't see daylight, but it's the first time I've written any in a long time.
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I've actually done a bit of poetry writing myself over the last little while. It's not one of my usual outlets when I'm stressed, so I was surprised that I wrote it. In fact, it was so stream-of-conciousness that I didn't even realize it was poetry until I'd finished writing and read what I had. I'm not sure it's any good, in fact it's pretty horrid, but it's poetry and I wrote it, so I suppose that's something.
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I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed the poem, and I'm delighted to know that I'm not the only one who goes through these bouts of poetry reading!
December Holly Wreath sheen - yes. I guess we learn that more and more as we get older; who stays in our lives? Who is a fast friend, even if only in the background sometimes, and who dazzles us and then disappears? Much to ponder.
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I go through the poetry-reading spells on occasion, but Bronte isn't one of my normal picks. This one really grabbed me because, as you said, who stays and who goes? Why? Fate or can we make the wild-rose briar more hardy?
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