Alone
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
-Edgar Allen Poe
As most know, Poe is known for his dark side and some what morbid humor. I don't blame him with the family history he has. Many of his family members have died of Tuberculosis, married his cousin who died of consumption. He wrote these words, "Deep in earth my love is lying and I must weep alone." The death of his wife devastated him and he was left in a prolonged melancholy state, which shows through many of his writings.
I believe Poe's morbid humor is sensed slightly in this piece. Lines 1-17 are describing his loneliness in the world and how he differs from everyone else. The imagery that his words give a chipper feel. Lines 11-16 specifically. The "fountain" and "red mountain" and "sun" and "autumn tint of gold." He sets up the world around him beautifully but shows himself in the opposite. I catch ironic humor, slightly sullen.
The last three lines of the poem create a synecdoche. After describing the beautiful surroundings he explains that they pass him by. "(When the rest of Heaven was blue)" When thinking about death, and feeling so minuscule when looking at the large sky, every ones heaven was blue but when Poe looks up, thinking of heaven, all he can summon is a demon in his view. This emphasizes the difference he senses between him and the rest of the world.
The poem flows well with the rhythm pattern and because it is one large stanza. Chopping it up into multiple would create rough brakes and damage the imagery, I believe.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
It was a dream . . .
It was a dream
in which my greater self
rose up before me
accusing me of my life
with her extra finger
whirling in a gyre of rage
at what my days had come to.
what,
i pleaded with her, could i do,
oh what could i have done?
and she twisted her wild hair
and sparked her wild eyes
and screamed as long as
i could hear her
This. This. This.
-Lucille Clifton
This is what I love about free verse poems, or better yet, this is what I love about what can be done with free verse poems! Looking at the word choices and the punctuation, it is purely simple. With such few words Clifton has been able to debauch my mind and go into deep thinking on what this poem means to me personally.
The simplicity of the poem allows me to control what my imagination makes of it while still have an influence. A women laying in bed in visions herself rising above her, surrounded with rage, the rage twisting her hair violently. I imagine her hair a goddess color, such as silver. And her skin being lightly silver too. Aspects of her are inhuman, her glowing eyes and extra flanges. With an extra finger the evil, goddess like version of her, screams at her of her wrongs and what her life has come too. The setting is a dirty apartment room, in a low end town. As the mirage of herself screams at her, "This. This. This." She is referring to where she is in life and where she could be. This can be different for everyone of course, but this is what I see.
The meaning will, no doubt, be different for everyone. I think of what I could of done, not for myself, but for a family member. I also think of this as a sign, it could be a dream that represents the future, it could be a warning of what is to come if Lucille does not change her ways. In this way, I think of college. Freshman year of college is a make it or break it point, I have large decisions to make that will affect my future greatly!
I also enjoy how the title of the poem flows into the body of the poem. Unique.
"This. This. This." The strongest line in the entire poem. It's a good concluding line that leaves the readers with things to think about. It sets in one of those "awwww" moments, where the reader may receive a few chills or an odd feeling in the chest, which is fantastic.
This is one of my favored poems.
in which my greater self
rose up before me
accusing me of my life
with her extra finger
whirling in a gyre of rage
at what my days had come to.
what,
i pleaded with her, could i do,
oh what could i have done?
and she twisted her wild hair
and sparked her wild eyes
and screamed as long as
i could hear her
This. This. This.
-Lucille Clifton
This is what I love about free verse poems, or better yet, this is what I love about what can be done with free verse poems! Looking at the word choices and the punctuation, it is purely simple. With such few words Clifton has been able to debauch my mind and go into deep thinking on what this poem means to me personally.
The simplicity of the poem allows me to control what my imagination makes of it while still have an influence. A women laying in bed in visions herself rising above her, surrounded with rage, the rage twisting her hair violently. I imagine her hair a goddess color, such as silver. And her skin being lightly silver too. Aspects of her are inhuman, her glowing eyes and extra flanges. With an extra finger the evil, goddess like version of her, screams at her of her wrongs and what her life has come too. The setting is a dirty apartment room, in a low end town. As the mirage of herself screams at her, "This. This. This." She is referring to where she is in life and where she could be. This can be different for everyone of course, but this is what I see.
The meaning will, no doubt, be different for everyone. I think of what I could of done, not for myself, but for a family member. I also think of this as a sign, it could be a dream that represents the future, it could be a warning of what is to come if Lucille does not change her ways. In this way, I think of college. Freshman year of college is a make it or break it point, I have large decisions to make that will affect my future greatly!
I also enjoy how the title of the poem flows into the body of the poem. Unique.
"This. This. This." The strongest line in the entire poem. It's a good concluding line that leaves the readers with things to think about. It sets in one of those "awwww" moments, where the reader may receive a few chills or an odd feeling in the chest, which is fantastic.
This is one of my favored poems.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Untitled by Stephen Crane
Untitled
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, beastial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said: "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter-bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter
And because it is my heart."
by Stephen Crane
Paradigm shift, the use of few words to warp the readers views tremendously. Crane uses this in many of his poem's including "Untitled." Particularly in the lines 5, 8, 9, and 10 of this poem which happens to be taken out of a larger collection of poems and short stories called, "The Black Riders."
Self-truth is a large part of this poem by crane, self-truth and nature.
In Crane's conversation with the beastly man, it is shown the truth of the man's own heart of which he is eating upon. His heart is "bitter" but he enjoys it because it is his heart and he is learning of himself through it's taste, it's bitter taste.
I find nature in the first three lines. The man is naked, squatting on the ground, and beast like. All three descriptions of how nature intended humans to be. Naked and dependant upon mother earth. Beast like and initial survival instincts. I know Crane sets this poem within a dessert but I can't help imagining the man in a dense forest at a thick trunk of a tree, trying to hide within it until Crane speaks to him then turns, looking over his shoulder to speak, only his back, head, and hands, holding the half eaten heart, visible.
The poem being Untitled has great importance. Crane likes to make his readers think. This is why he did not title the poem, to allow the reader to warp the meaning of the poem to their liking. When a poem is titled it is automatically tied into the poem and thought to have importance to the meaning. Crane didn't want to contaminate the meaning for the readers, I believe. This poem means different things to every single person.
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, beastial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said: "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter-bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter
And because it is my heart."
by Stephen Crane
Paradigm shift, the use of few words to warp the readers views tremendously. Crane uses this in many of his poem's including "Untitled." Particularly in the lines 5, 8, 9, and 10 of this poem which happens to be taken out of a larger collection of poems and short stories called, "The Black Riders."
Self-truth is a large part of this poem by crane, self-truth and nature.
In Crane's conversation with the beastly man, it is shown the truth of the man's own heart of which he is eating upon. His heart is "bitter" but he enjoys it because it is his heart and he is learning of himself through it's taste, it's bitter taste.
I find nature in the first three lines. The man is naked, squatting on the ground, and beast like. All three descriptions of how nature intended humans to be. Naked and dependant upon mother earth. Beast like and initial survival instincts. I know Crane sets this poem within a dessert but I can't help imagining the man in a dense forest at a thick trunk of a tree, trying to hide within it until Crane speaks to him then turns, looking over his shoulder to speak, only his back, head, and hands, holding the half eaten heart, visible.
The poem being Untitled has great importance. Crane likes to make his readers think. This is why he did not title the poem, to allow the reader to warp the meaning of the poem to their liking. When a poem is titled it is automatically tied into the poem and thought to have importance to the meaning. Crane didn't want to contaminate the meaning for the readers, I believe. This poem means different things to every single person.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Hamlet
Act 1.
-Hamlet's father appears as a ghost in front of Marcellus, Barnardo, and Horatio.
-The three tell Hamlet of the sighting.
-Soliloquy of Hamlet speaking his mind on his father's death.
- Wishes suicide upon himself
-Ophelia has a thing with Hamlet.
- Ophelia's brother warned her of Hamlet but it is believed after a letter is red to Ophelia from Hamlet of his love.
- Hamlet's Uncle murdered the King and it is Hamlet's job to take revenge.
-Hamlet's father appears as a ghost in front of Marcellus, Barnardo, and Horatio.
-The three tell Hamlet of the sighting.
-Soliloquy of Hamlet speaking his mind on his father's death.
- Wishes suicide upon himself
-Ophelia has a thing with Hamlet.
- Ophelia's brother warned her of Hamlet but it is believed after a letter is red to Ophelia from Hamlet of his love.
- Hamlet's Uncle murdered the King and it is Hamlet's job to take revenge.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Reading Myself, First poem of new semester!
Reading Myself
Like thousands, I took just pride and more than just,
struck matches that brought my blood to a boil;
I memorized the tricks to set the river on fire-
somehow never wrote something to go back to.
From the title the reader can assume that this poem is about Lowell looking back on his life. He is proud of his accomplishment. The way I interpret the "striking matches" bit is personal. As soon as I read this line I thought of grinding my 86a stimulus wheels across the pavement on my loaded longboard. There is nothing better to get my blood boiling than that. Lowell did things that he enjoyed to a great extent. "The river" is his blood streak and he became an expert in the techniques it took to make his blood boil. Just as I know the right amount of pressure to add to my left foot to slide out. The last line is a favorite of mine. After winter I go back to longboarding and have to somewhat re-learn all of my techniques, and I think to myself, "if only I had written them down."
Can I suppose I am finished with wax flowers
and have earned my grass on the minor slopes of Parnassus....
Waxed flowers are flowers that are coated in a wax to preserve its color and living look. I can only assume Lowell is implying that his is finished bringing to attention his better times in life and making them stand out to the Gods and Goddesses of the Greek mountain Parnassus and is hoping for a positive judgment.
No honeycomb is built without a bee
adding circle to circle, cell to cell,
the wax and honey of a mausoleum-
this round dome proves its maker is alive,
the corpse of the insect lives embalmed in honey,
prays that its perishable work live long
Mother Earth gives to us until finally we must give back. I somewhat believe more in being buried than cremation for this reason. Once someone has passed away and taken all they can from the earth, they are buried within it, giving back for all they have taken. Every bee must work, every human must as well. The corpse of the bee is eventually embalmed with home where it's corpse continues to give to the honeycomb.
enough for the sweet-toogh bear to desecrate-
this open book...my open coffin.
The honeycomb, that the worker bees gave their entire life to, will be eaten or used by other animals/humans, eventually. The way I can connect this to humans is that every door we open for ourselves, every accomplishment we make, creates a new possibility for the generation behind us. The advances humans make now will effect, and hopefully improve, the lives that come after we pass. I hope.
By Robert Lowell
The holy Mountain Parnassus in Greece
-Waxed flowers that preserve the color and the living look of a flower. I especially like this picture because of the glass cases they are in, showing off the beauty to viewers as Lowell's accomplishments are shown off to the Gods of Parnassus.
Like thousands, I took just pride and more than just,
struck matches that brought my blood to a boil;
I memorized the tricks to set the river on fire-
somehow never wrote something to go back to.
From the title the reader can assume that this poem is about Lowell looking back on his life. He is proud of his accomplishment. The way I interpret the "striking matches" bit is personal. As soon as I read this line I thought of grinding my 86a stimulus wheels across the pavement on my loaded longboard. There is nothing better to get my blood boiling than that. Lowell did things that he enjoyed to a great extent. "The river" is his blood streak and he became an expert in the techniques it took to make his blood boil. Just as I know the right amount of pressure to add to my left foot to slide out. The last line is a favorite of mine. After winter I go back to longboarding and have to somewhat re-learn all of my techniques, and I think to myself, "if only I had written them down."
Can I suppose I am finished with wax flowers
and have earned my grass on the minor slopes of Parnassus....
Waxed flowers are flowers that are coated in a wax to preserve its color and living look. I can only assume Lowell is implying that his is finished bringing to attention his better times in life and making them stand out to the Gods and Goddesses of the Greek mountain Parnassus and is hoping for a positive judgment.
No honeycomb is built without a bee
adding circle to circle, cell to cell,
the wax and honey of a mausoleum-
this round dome proves its maker is alive,
the corpse of the insect lives embalmed in honey,
prays that its perishable work live long
Mother Earth gives to us until finally we must give back. I somewhat believe more in being buried than cremation for this reason. Once someone has passed away and taken all they can from the earth, they are buried within it, giving back for all they have taken. Every bee must work, every human must as well. The corpse of the bee is eventually embalmed with home where it's corpse continues to give to the honeycomb.
enough for the sweet-toogh bear to desecrate-
this open book...my open coffin.
The honeycomb, that the worker bees gave their entire life to, will be eaten or used by other animals/humans, eventually. The way I can connect this to humans is that every door we open for ourselves, every accomplishment we make, creates a new possibility for the generation behind us. The advances humans make now will effect, and hopefully improve, the lives that come after we pass. I hope.
By Robert Lowell
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