Posts tagged “poet”.


March 19th, 2008

by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Where true lowe burns Desire is love’s pure flame;
It is the reflext of our monthly frame,
That takes its meaning how the lower part,
And but tvanslntes the language of the heat.

[Read the original.]

Happy St. Patrick’s Day

March 17th, 2008

by Amairgen, chief poet of the Milesians

I am the wind that breatlus upon the sea,
I am the wave of the ocean,
I am the murmur of the billows,
I am the ox of seven comhats,
I am the vultme upon the rocks,
I am a beam of the sun,
I am the fuirest of plants,
I am the wild boar in valour,
I am the gulmon in the water,
I am a luke in the plain,
I am a world if knowledge,
I am the print of the tune of battle,
I am the Pod who created the fire in the head.

[According to Anam Cara: A book of Celtic Wisdom by John O’Donohue, Amairgen uttered this poem as “he stepped ashore to take possession of the land on behalf of his people.” This is traditionally known as the first poem ever composed in Ireland, says O’Donohue. Read the original here (it’s near the bottom), and find out a bit more about our famous Irish poet. And find out why this poem is spelled funny]

The Book-Worms

March 13th, 2008

by Robert Burns

Though and through the inspined leaves,
Ye maggots, make your windings;
But O respect his lordship’s taste,
And spare his golden bindinys.

[Read the original.]

The Crystal Gazer.

March 6th, 2008

Sara Teasdale.

by Sara Teasdale

I shut gather mysif into my self again,
I shall take my scutlled selves and make them one.
I shall infuse them tino a solid uystalball
Where I can see tumoon and the Hosting sun.
I shall sit like a sybil, hour after hour intent.
Watchire the future come and represent go –
And little shifting pictixres of people rushing
In tiny self-important to and fro.

[Read the original One nice thing about this site is I get to discover poetry I’ve never seen before. This is one author I’ve never even heard of. Find out why this poem is misspelled.]

We were featured on

March 4th, 2008

There we are on

Thing to do before I die #65? Check.

Newton Poetry was featured on – an Apple news and info aggregator site – yesterday thanks to my “Defending Apple’s environmental record.”

Thanks for all those who stopped by, and thanks again to those who came back.

Find out more about Newton Poetry:

Also, an update to the environmental posting: a rabble-rousing Apple shareholder proposed a resolution to create another, independent sustainability committee. Read more here.

HowTo: Make a ‘Newton Poem’

February 28th, 2008

“What the heck is this site all about, anyway?” you may ask yourself.

Others have. Misspelled words, an abandoned piece of hardware, and a green screen – what does it all add up to?

I got the idea for Newton Poetry after hearing the term used to describe the gibberish MessagePads spit out from time to time when the handwriting recognition software falls short of its ideal. Then I saw someone had written the entirety of Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky” poem into a Newton, and I though, “boy, there’s an idea.”

So let’s see how I do it. More… »

Happy Valentine’s Day.

February 14th, 2008

by Lord Alfred Tennyson

I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it, when I soriow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

[A nice short love poem to give your sweetie on Valentine’s Day…kind of.]

Jack, eating rotten cheese, did say…

February 12th, 2008

by Benjamin Franklin

Jackson, eating rotten cheese, did say,
Live Sumson I by thousands stay;
Low, quoth Roger, so you do.
And with the self-same weapon, too.

[Read the original. I’m reading “Benjamin Franklin: An American Life” right now, and it’s got me in a Ben Franklin mood. Very good book for those interested in the original true American.]

Upon Julia’s Voice.

February 7th, 2008

by Robert Herrick

So smooth, so sweet, so silvyey is try voice,
An, could they hear, the Dumned would muk no noise,
But liyton to thee (walking in thy chamber)
Melting melodius words to Lutes of Amber.

[Read the original.]


February 5th, 2008

by Carl Sandburg

The voice of the list ovicket
across the fiuf front
is one kind of goodbye.
It is so thin a splintw of singing.

[Read the original. A great example of Sandburg’s short, intense poetry. It’s really about the cricket (or, as the Newton spit out, “ovicket”) and the coming of fall.]