{"id":279,"date":"2009-12-14T18:33:00","date_gmt":"2009-12-14T18:33:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/janbowles.com\/blog\/index.php\/2009\/12\/14\/how-i-fell-in-love-with-poetry\/"},"modified":"2018-04-01T06:53:36","modified_gmt":"2018-04-01T06:53:36","slug":"how-i-fell-in-love-with-poetry","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/janbowles.com\/blog\/how-i-fell-in-love-with-poetry\/","title":{"rendered":"How I fell in love with poetry"},"content":{"rendered":"<body><p>Sometimes opinions change. Sometimes ideas that have stayed with you a lifetime suddenly alter and shift, and you find a different angle with which to view.<\/p>\n<p>Take poetry. Apart from having a poem published in the school magazine I really couldn\u2019t see what all the fuss was about. For years, the well formed verses never quite did it for me. They were just words, structured, yet with little meaning.<\/p>\n<p>Then everything changed.<\/p>\n<p>Life changed.<\/p>\n<p>Feeling at a particularly low point in my life, I just happened to be browsing a large book store. I picked up book after book. Just glancing briefly at them, and then placing them back on the shelf.<\/p>\n<p>Then I pulled one particular book off the shelf. The Nations Favourite Poems as voted for by the British public. I scanned the pages, then read the poem that had been voted No.1. This poem had received twice as many votes as any other poem in the book.<\/p>\n<p>The words leapt from the page. Surely the poem had been written for me. Every word had meaning. I remember tears streaming down my face. The author had connected with me. Years after he\u2019d died he actually spoke to me.<\/p>\n<p>I had a copy of the poem printed out onto an A4 sheet of paper. I carried that poem in my handbag every where I went. It really helped, knowing that poem was close to me.<\/p>\n<p>Several handbags later I still have it. Even though the paper is tatty and worn, I just haven\u2019t the heart to throw it away. I have a framed copy of the poem on my wall, and a version of the poem by Ernest Shackleton (a great friend of the author).<\/p>\n<p>I suppose I should reveal which poem literally changed my life. It may not be your favourite poem, but I\u2019m sure there\u2019s a poem out there for everyone. <\/p>\n<p><\/p>\n<blockquote><p>If by Rudyard Kipling<\/p>\n<p>If you can keep your head when all about you <br>Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; <br>If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, <br>But make allowance for their doubting too; <br>If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, <br>Or, being lied about, don\u2019t deal in lies, <br>Or, being hated, don\u2019t give way to hating, <br>And yet don\u2019t look too good, nor talk too wise; <\/p>\n<p>If you can dream \u2013 and not make dreams your master; <br>If you can think \u2013 and not make thoughts your aim; <br>If you can meet with triumph and disaster <br>And treat those two imposters just the same; <br>If you can bear to hear the truth you\u2019ve spoken <br>Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, <br>Or watch the things you gave your life to broken, <br>And stoop and build \u2019em up with wornout tools; <\/p>\n<p>If you can make one heap of all your winnings <br>And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, <br>And lose, and start again at your beginnings <br>And never breath a word about your loss; <br>If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew <br>To serve your turn long after they are gone, <br>And so hold on when there is nothing in you <br>Except the Will which says to them: \u201cHold on\u201d; <\/p>\n<p>If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, <br>Or walk with kings \u2013 nor lose the common touch; <br>If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; <br>If all men count with you, but none too much; <br>If you can fill the unforgiving minute <br>With sixty seconds\u2019 worth of distance run \u2013 <br>Yours is the Earth and everything that\u2019s in it, <br>And \u2013 which is more \u2013 you\u2019ll be a Man my son!<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>There are other poems I like, but this one really means something to me. Thank you for reading. Maybe you can share which poem if any is your favourite.<\/p>\n<\/body>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Sometimes opinions change. Sometimes ideas that have stayed with you a lifetime suddenly alter and shift, and you find a different angle with which to view. Take poetry. Apart from having a poem published in the school magazine I really couldn\u2019t see what all the fuss was about. For years, the well formed verses never quite did it for me. They were just words, structured, yet with little meaning. Then everything changed. Life changed. Feeling at a particularly low point in my life, I just happened to be browsing a large book store. I picked up book after book. Just glancing briefly at them, and then placing them back on the shelf. Then I pulled one particular book off the shelf. The Nations Favourite Poems as voted for by the British public. I scanned the pages, then read the poem that had been voted No.1. This poem had received twice as many votes as any other poem in the book. The words leapt from the page. Surely the poem had been written for me. Every word had meaning. I remember tears streaming down my face. The author had connected with me. Years after he\u2019d died he actually spoke to me&#8230;.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[177],"tags":[163,164,165],"class_list":["post-279","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-my-thoughts","tag-if","tag-poems","tag-rudyard-kipling"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p9Nbkf-4v","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/janbowles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/279"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/janbowles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/janbowles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/janbowles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/janbowles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=279"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/janbowles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/279\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":539,"href":"https:\/\/janbowles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/279\/revisions\/539"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/janbowles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=279"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/janbowles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=279"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/janbowles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=279"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}