my favourite poem

Yesterday or day before when i was browsing the BBC world news the surges and the helplessness and hopelessness across the world put me off and i was about to close the page. Suddenly the words "poetry power" caught my eye. It was a video feature wherein four people had desccribed how poetry helped them in coping with situations and struggles .Each of them talked about their favourite poem and why they liked it. It spanned from Shakespeare to a ode to NHS workers to KahlilGibron. That gave me lot of mental peace and reminded me of the many poems i like. I am alover of poetry as i feel poetry respects ones imagination. Each can interpret it the way one wants

This incident motivated me to talk about my favourite poem in this forum and share my thoughts and views.My favourite poem is Tyger tiger burning bright " by William Blake. Here as he admires and is awestruck by the beauty ferocity and the majesty of the tiger. he wonders how the ame creator who created the lamb the meekest creature on earth could crate the tiger ? what could be his intention? What could he have done after creating the two Just admired that he could do both or something else is there beyond our understanding? Now it is upto us to discuss and interpret it the way we want. I feel it is symbolic of the plus and minus side of life.I feel in the present scenario how could you explain such pandemic happening with so much advancement in science, medicene, communication, transport etc? But it has happened. Reading the poem and talking about it i feel will help us understand the present situation better.

Now here is the poem for all to read and admire and get into discussion.

Tyger by William Blake

Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies. Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain, In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp, Dare its deadly terrors clasp! When the stars threw down their spears And water'd heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee? Tyger Tyger burning bright, In the forests of the night: What immortal hand or eye, Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?