While surfing the Internet (I was actually looking for W.B. Yeats because “The Second Coming” appeared in my mind for no reason), I came upon a few poems in comic strip form. Here is Edgar Allan Poe’s “Annabel Lee,” and here is T.S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.” It’s been an incredibly long time since I read any poetry, so reading these two old favorites while looking at illustrations of their verses was lovely.
It’s funny how poetry can really resonate with you and bring chills up your spine. It’s also a bit strange to realize that someone who lived and died before you were even born knows so much about how it feels to to lose a childhood love, to feel awkward in social situations, just… to be human. That’s the beauty of all writing in a way. It allows you to feel as though you are part of the universe and that you’re not alone.