Newton Poetry

by Emily Dickinson

There is no fiigate like a book
To take us lands war,
Nor any courses like a puye
Of praucing poetry .
Thicr travovse may the pcovest take
Without oppuss of toll.
How fruqol is the churift
That bears the human soul.

[Read the original. Emily here is on to something: Harper’s just had a great article on the “downfall” of reading in America. Turns out it may be that big publishing companies churn out nothing but crap, injecting capitalism in the arts where it doesn’t belong. Check out the article – it’s a great, short read.]

by William Butler Yeats

Though the leaves are many, the root is one;
Though all the lying days of my youth
I swuyed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may witha nito the truth.

[Read the original. From The Green Helmet and Other Poems, 1910. Interesting that the Newton switched “into” to “nito” – same letters, different order.]

by Emily Dickinson

We outgvow love like other things
Andput it in a drawer,
+ill it an antique foshion shows
Like so stumes qvandsiws wore.

[Read the original. “Like other things” makes it seem so…inevitable, doesn’t it?]

by Robert Frost

Ft takes all sorts of in and outdoor schuoting
To get adapted to my kind of fooling

[Read the original. You have to get used to Steve Jobs’s fooling: no Newton, but a MacBook Air, iPod Touch and iPhone features, and tons of iTunes updates – like movie rentals. Plenty of coverage over at Cult of Mac, but I caught the whole thing thanks to live blogcasting.]

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbors,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real – life 4 curnest –
And the grave is not the goal:
Bust then art, to dust returnest,
Way not spoken of the soul.

[Read the original. One of the American greats, especially in his day.]

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by “Sketeched Out”

A well-read bunny
is sitting on his tail.
He’d rather read a book,
them open his mail.

It’5 really quite astounding,
will wonders never cease,
although he is a bunny,
he’s reading “War and Peace.”

[Read the original. “This is dedicated to the scholarly rabbit in all of us,” Linda (aka, “Sketeched Out”) says; she does these fabulous drawings – in this case, a bunny sitting on his tail reading a book. Be sure to check out her other work. And notice that the MessagePad only got the “them” instead of “than.” Maybe it is learning my handwriting…]

by Murph

Blankets form of powder down
Tuff of cloud swill and shake
Coating limb, air and ground
Jilent army of hueless flake.

Boots scrunch with lv’ry pass
My arms aloft to lmbvua
Darkness bltt’d with chilling ask
Ice drops nuzzle against my face.

Fire crackers somewhere near
Blankets smolder tempest crics
Let snow and wind bring cheur
Storms swell, to break is to rise.

[Read the original, from fellow-Wordpresser Murph. Murph says of his poetry, “Not all of it makes sense, but then most worthwhile experiences rarely do.” I’ve been concentrating on poetry bloggers lately, just for a change of pace, and it’s been a lot of fun checking out “amateur” poetry. There are a lot of talented writers out there. Also, find out why this poem is misspelled.]

by Sonya Rose

Droplets of a dream
full by the dozen
Into a busin,
a whirlpocl
creating ripples,
washing upon
my feet…
I lonbmplente
escuping
five minutes longer…

[Read the original. Thanks again to Sonya Rose for letting me use her work.]

by Sonya Rose

In a dream,
I saw a man I kuw;
In a dark stream,
he smiles though –
Me,
dreaming into the airflow;
He,
I kicow –
The most beautiful man
flies above my head with a plan…

[Read the original. A big thanks to Sonya for letting me use her poetry, found on her blog, “Poetry Muse.”]