The poem that inspires me-ODE TO THE WEST

There is always that one thing which changes our lives. One moment which changed my life, was when I started writing poetry. I still remember that day. We had a free period and it was after the short break. And suddenly something forced me to start writing. Ever since that day the way I look at myself and the way others have looked at me has changed.

Not that I never used to write before, I did, but it was about once or twice in a year. I have no clue who or where or what I will be if not for that one single moment. And the inspiration for to pick up the pen again, ODE TO THE WEST WIND.

Of all the poems(written by others) , this one is still  something very  special to me. It was a part of our English syllabus(our 9th and 10th grade English text books were one of the best  I have ever had) . The last two stanzas- carpe diem!

If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;
If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;
A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share
The impulse of thy strength, only less free
Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even
I were as in my boyhood, and could be
The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven,
As then, when to outstrip the skiey speed
Scarce seemed a vision, I would ne’er have striven
As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.
O, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!
I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!
A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed
One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies
Will take from both a deep autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! be thou me, impetuous one!
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like withered leaves, to quicken a new birth;
And, by the incantation of this verse,
Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened earth
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

 

You can read the full poem here.

It still moves me.  IF  WINTER COMES, CAN SPRING BE FAR BEHIND?

 

 

 

 

 

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