Poetry

Poetry is a form of literary art that uses aesthetic and often

rhythmic qualities of language to evoke meanings in addition to, or
in place of, literal or surface-level meanings. Any particular
instance of poetry is called a poem and is written by a poet.
Types of Poetry
Sonnate
Haiku
Ballad
 Sonnate
Sonnets are among the most popular forms of poetry. They are fourteen
lines long, and typically centre around the topic of love.
A BOAT BENEATH A SUNNY SKY
By Lewis Carroll
A boat beneath the sky, Echoes fade and memories die: In a Wonderland they lie,
Lingering onward dreamily Autumn frosts have slain July. Dreaming as days go by,
In an evening of July – Dreaming as the summers die:
Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Children three that nestle near, Alice moving under skies Ever drifting down the stream -
Eager eye and willing ear, Never seen by waking eyes. Lingering in the golden gleam -
Pleased a simple tale to hear – Life , what is it but a dream?
Children yet, the tale hear,
Long has paled that sunny sky: Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.
 Haiku
Haiku is a type of short form poetry that originated in Japan.

“Lines on a Skull”
By Ravi Shanker

Life’s little, our heads sad.

Redeemed and wasting clay
this chance. Be of use.
 Ballad
This is one of the oldest types of poetry, with ancient examples that were passed down orally
through the centuries. A ballad tells the story of a person or event.
The Second Coming
BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some relevant is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming ! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out or Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born.