"Memories" - this is a poem that I wrote when I was 16. It's about love and relationships. I wanted to share it. So read and enjoy.

The first time I read Miller Williams poem A verse form for Emily I did non envision both major theme standing out. It is a unsophisticated fit written in simple every solar daylight language. I did not stick out every similes, metaphors, symbols or any of the separate devices that other poets often use to confuse me. I do not like it when I read a metrical compo pution and ache no idea what I near read. This poesy is not like that. It is well written and its subject matter is very clear. This poem is simply about(predicate) a grandparent ceremony his grandchild on the day that she was born. He is rallying about the prospective and how much of it that he will make out to throw away with her. I also sensory faculty an anxiety, from the grandparent, in the poem. I feel an undertone of what if I am not here(predicate) to see you grow? What if I am not here to tell you and show you how much I love you? What if I am not here to see your children, my great grandc hildren, matured? This poem brought out numerous emotions in me. I stick out actually mental image what the author is nerve-racking to say. I felt the love and devotion of the grandparent. I could picture myself in that place. I could see myself sitting in the rocking chairperson and watching my grand children sleeping. I felt a signified of gloom in the last two stanzas when he talks about the mother reading them the poem and him being dead. The persuasion hit me that I might not be here to see my grand children or great grandchildren grow.

The poem do me think about my children when they were little and h ow I used to sit and touch at them sleeping! in their crib. Thanks for a bewitching metrical composition analysis of Miller Williams beautiful A Poem for Emily. You are right when you say it is a simple poem and easily understood, yet touching. To me, it is a tribute not altogether to a grandparents love but also to the enduing smell of poetry which will survive long after we die. By the way, the frost pattern of the last stanza is ABAAB. Good job!

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