2 Stanza Poem Novels & Stories

The poem went this way, Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there; I did not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uprising rush Oh quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.

"Yes, Miss Edgar and Miss Addison? Would you like to share with us your conversation?" She shakes her head in fear and I stare at him in the eye, he did not break the contact and so I waited for him to be the first one to turn away. But his stare was so intense, so he won. He obviously knows his place. Is this really the same person that I met that night? Or was he drunk? "I'll give you twenty minutes," he say. "Create a poem - seven stanzas - you'll have to turn it into a song once in front while I accompany you with a piano."

Stella chatted casually. "Elizabeth Barrett Browning? 'The Soul's Expression'?" "That's a good one, but my favorite is 'How Do I Love Thee'. It goes like this: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight. For the ends of being and ideal grace." Stella recited a few lines of the poem. "I have never heard of that." Jasper put the washed tomatoes onto the plate.

Stanley smiled, cleared his throat, and slowly started reciting under everyone’s attention. “Snow fell in the palace last night, “She wandered in the West Bridge, “All because she was in white, “The beauty of the world withered.” Stanley’s expression was unspeakably proud as he recited the last stanza. Gasp! Instantly, the crowd burst into praises. The other civil officials could not help but applaud and praise Stanley. “Great poem, such a great poem!” “It’s amazing how well you’ve painted the mood!” “Only Official Stanley could write such a great poem in this age and time.”

He cleared his throat, "Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there; I do not sleep. I am a hundred winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow, I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the twinkling... stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die." He looked at her, awaiting her remarks. "You tried, you really tried but you made some errors. It's not I ama hundred winds that blow, it's I am a thousand winds that blow. Again it's not I am the twinkling star that shine at night, it's I am the soft star..soft star

“Read the stanza aloud. Start at line ten.” I try. My voice is wrecked. The poem is about blood and sex and marriage inside a flea bite. Every word feels like he chose it for me. I stumble through it while he stands two feet away, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching my mouth like he’s imagining it wrapped around him. When I finish the last line there’s total silence. He smiles, small and dangerous. “Very good. Sit.” I turn to go back. “No,” he says quietly. “Here.”

I ask myself. "Umm...no." "Hmm..." I look around the room for inspiration. The red ink stands out to me. Stay? Could that fit? I want to run far, far away To a place where I feel I can’t stray Stay somewhere I feel welcome And not like an outcast Because it seems everywhere I go I feel like a victim eaten up fast For once I plead Someone to ask me Will you please... stay?' And just like that, with the one word the poem completed itself, it became whole , it was finished, it's own living and breathing entity of words and letters and deep meaning.

Arabella nodded slowly, the hint of a nervous chuckle escaping her lips. "What for?" "I'm not sure" I admitted, flipping my hair over my shoulder. Sierra tapped her notepad impatiently, drawing our attention. "Right, so here's what we know, the first stanza is clearly referring to a body of water—like a lake or something—and a bell, the second stanza talks about a building, probably the year it was built, then, the 'keeper's gate,' I think we're dealing with a sacred place that needs protection, and the last line—' By the branch that near me grows'..."