Poem: A Blank Page

Hello All!

I jotted this poem down earlier this evening on a piece of scrap paper, and decided to share it with you all. Enjoy, and, as always, feel free to share your opinion on it!

A Blank Page

How could I let this blank paper go to waste

With yet so much potential between its light lines, meant to guide?

Crumpled as it may be; hardly at its best

But still as willing to hold words: powerful, exact, honest

How dare I rob it of the opportunity to hold–

To contain the beauty that is a poem; may it be sonnet, prose, or ode

Or may it be these few simple phrases about a blank page with guiding lines

And its right to bare the ultimate power that is words

Whether rhymed or not rhymed


Would I Were a Song

Hello All!

In honor of this month being National Poetry Month, I am going to share with you a poem that I penned. Rather than explaining, I am going to let the poetry speak for itself! 

Would I Were a Song
Would I were a song

Sung by one and all

Of which all were fond

Whose words inspire awe

Would I were the lyrics 

That never cease to speak

Touching hearts and souls

Following sweet melody

And would I were the melody

That never fades away

Being whistled by a wanderer

Whose feet refuse to stay

Would I were a song

That lasts forevermore

Ever sung and ever loved

As the anthem of a war

~Alyssa Dulaney


Thank you for reading! Please, share your thoughts.

Poem of the Week: Sonnet 116

Hello All,

My gift to you on this Friday evening is a poem from arguably the most beloved poet of all time. William Shakespeare needs no introduction, nor does today’s poem in the spotlight: “Sonnet 116.”

William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
Sonnet 116 

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,

That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle’s compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.”

-William Shakespeare


Sonnet 116 is one of the most quoted and loved poems of all time and for good reason. It has captured so marvelously the definition of a love worth having. It is steady and unchanging. It is a path, once chosen, that has no bends, but is constant. It should be the thing that any wandering soul can look to for guidance and find unmoveable. It outlasts time itself, because those who have found it are unwilling to let it go. It is invaluable… Shakespeare believed this to be a truth to the point of comparing it to the reality of his words and any love ever had.

Poem of the Week: If I Can Stop One Heart from Breaking

Hello All!

This week’s poem was written by the incredible American poet Emily Dickinson.


Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
If I Can Stop One Heart from Breaking

“If I can stop one heart from breaking,I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.”

-Emily Dickinson


I love how Dickinson portrays purpose. So many search high and low to find some deep purpose for living, and yet, she found hers in the simple things. If you’ve helped just one person, you’ve not lived in vain. 

Poem of the Week: When I Have Fears

Thursday Greetings!

I have for you this evening a poem that will make up for the lack thereof in the past few weeks. 

“When I Have Fears” is a poem by John Keats (1795-1821)- an English Romantic poet of the early 19th century. I know that I do not typically do two consecutive poems by the same author, but I could not resist. John Keats has become a favorite of mine. 


When I Have Fears

When I have fears that I may cease to be

   Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,

Before high-pilèd books, in charactery,

   Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;

When I behold, upon the night’s starred face,

   Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,

And think that I may never live to trace

   Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;

And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,

   That I shall never look upon thee more,

Never have relish in the faery power

   Of unreflecting love—then on the shore

Of the wide world I stand alone, and think

Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

-John Keats


I cannot tell you exactly what this poem is saying; rather, I do not wish to. I want you to discover its meaning for yourself. What do these words speak to you?

It is a poem with a soul. One so full of raw honesty and the cry of Keats’ heart. It is a work of beauty. 

Ode to Exams

Thursday Greetings!

I wrote this poem especially for those who, like myself, are in college courses. As we all are acutely aware, final exams are just around the corner.


Say a prayer, and read this poem. Here’s to you!


Ode to Exams

“The days for finals have come at last

Which no one looks to with joy or glee

With anxiety and worry, yes

With tears and trembling

The time to study has come at last

And yet, I neither wish to nor do

Until the day when I have no choice

And cannot put it off and pass too

So, to those who share these thoughts and feelings

My sympathy doth reach

Exams, whom we hold in worst regard

Extend mercy to all and each”

~Alyssa Dulaney


I hope this comedic poem gave you a bit of joy to carry with you. 🙂


Poem of the Week: “Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art”

Hello All!

I have recently gained a fascination for John Keats’ poetry. I had not paid much attention to it before, but you could say that I have come to my senses! I would like to share one of his most beautiful poems with you today. “Bright Star” by John Keats was begun around 1818 and later revised and finished for his love, Fanny Brawne.


John Keats (1795-1821)

“Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art”

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—
         Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
         Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
         Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
         Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
         Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
         Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.
~John Keats
I find his poetry utterly breathtaking. More to be felt than simply read.
(Also, my interest was sparked by the movie “Bright Star,” which portrays the romance between him and Fanny Brawne before his death. I would recommend it very highly, though I cannot guarantee its absolute accuracy. I believe it to be close to the truth, however. Go watch it!)