Solitude

I would like to start off my review saying that this was a horrendous poem. Never have I been so bored by english literature. The reason I believe this is because we just wrote a poem about sensory experience and this seems like the exact same repetetive poem. What I look for in a poem is creativity of an object or idea I would never come to terms with before reading it. This poem has dull imagery, “How still is it here in the woods.” If I could make one suggestion to the author it is too stop making sentences so tedious and boring. Make it more exiciting, outgoing, and unique. It can also be a little weird ,but that’s what makes a good poem. A good poet is like a car salesman. The audience is not buying the car there buying what you say. This poem could be the greatest poem ever written ,yet it doesn’t appeal to the audience making it a casualty upon my review. Try making a topic about a poem no one has ever heard of before,and are flabbergasted by the idea of it. This is the key of writing a good poem.


Solitude
Archibald Lampman
How still it is here in the woods. The trees
Stand motionless, as if they did not dare
To stir, lest it should break the spell. The air
Hangs quiet as spaces in a marble frieze.
Even this little brook, that runs at ease,
Whispering and gurgling in its knotted bed,
Seems but to deepen with its curling thread
Of sound the shadowy sun-pierced silences.
Sometimes a hawk screams or a woodpecker
Startles the stillness from its fixed mood
With his loud careless tap. Sometimes I hear
The dreamy white-throat from some far-off tree
Pipe slowly on the listening solitude
His five pure notes succeeding pensively.