The Rev

• Last seen on Feb 13 10:19 AM 2006. Member since February 14, 2006.
• I have 82 poems, 9 stories

My other items

• Bastard Son of 100 Maniacs! at allpoetry
  Curse this wicked moonlit pen, The witching hour draws close again.
• More Boundaries of Language at allpoetry
  Boundaries of language separate brain waves from heart beats; one thinks and the other just does as it has always done—swayed with the wind and ebbed with the tides. Shooting across synapses and firing electricity through
• The Incompletes at allpoetry
  ************************************************************************************** I woke up this morning only to find out that I was still living the same nightmare that appears in my subconscious.

Guest Book

Comments

• on Anthem For Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen, on November 5, 2003

  "Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
  Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle..."
  
  I must say that I am beginning to enjoy this OldPoetry site a great deal more as I begin to broaden my horizons on the poets of olde. I have to agree that it was a very brave move on Owen's part to write about such treacherous ideas. However, there are times and places for which action resulting in war should be taken; and in those times, no matter how mush you resent the leader for doing so, one must stay behind their people until it's over. Anyway, thank you for sharing this.
  
  Keep up the good fight; it's all we have left...
  
  The Rev
• on To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell, on September 10, 2003

  Thy Beauty shall no more be found;
  Nor, in thy marble Vault, shall sound
  My ecchoing Song: then Worms shall try
  That long preserv'd Virginity:
  And your quaint Honour turn to durst;
  And into ashes all my Lust.
  The Grave's a fine and private place,
  But none I think do there embrace.
  Now therefore, while the youthful hew
  Sits on thy skin like morning glew,
  And while thy willing Soul transpires
  At every pore with instant Fires,
  Now let us sport us while we may;
  And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
  Rather at once our Time devour,
  Than languish in his slow-chapt pow'r.
  Let us roll all our Strength, and all
  Our sweetness, up into one Ball:
  
  I absolutely enjoy this poem muchly. I had to read it in my English class last year and I fell in love with it right from the start. The imagery and metaphors and just everything is so totally awesome. The sexual innuedos that are implied in here are just so subtle that it makes me laugh. I have to say that it also should have been seperated into three stanzas, as it is writen as a beginning, middle and an end... they all go together perfectly; just seperated to show the reader what's going on...
  
  Keep up the good fight, it's all we have left...
  
  The Rev