being a apprentice writer myself, who cant write poetry. i borrowed a poem from a famous writer to describe my search. it goes like this... Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland l! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently p! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands Of travelers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands; A voice so thrilling ne'er heard In springtime from the cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings?-- Perhaps the planitive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago; Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of today? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again? Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending; I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more. i hope you understand my search from poem and me from my choice of poem.....