Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower -- but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
(Alfred, Lord Tennyson)
That's a beautiful, philosophical poem, but I always see the minus as well as the plus of such poetry.
So heres my I.T. (irreverent take): what sort of poet would pluck a living plant right out by the roots and spout poetry and metaphysics at the poor dead thing? Thank goodness he didn't think of writing a poem on little babies....I am sure that if he wanted to write a poem about a child, he would lop its head off before composing the words... '
Update: I also wanted to include the verse which is what I think Tennyson would probably write about a child:
Hello there child of two
Innocently smiling...what I'll do
Is, sever your head,
Hold you sadly when you're dead
Then write wonderful poetry about you
I hope these kind of poets die because some tiger wants to compose a poem on them!
The poem that the tiger might compose on the poet might go like this:
Oh man in the middle of my belly,
I know I munched you to a jelly.
But for my inspiration
I needed your expiration
So I saw you as meat in the deli.
Hah! Thanks, beast_666, for that nice first line of the first verse!