Wednesday, April 14, 2010
National Poetry Month
April is National Poetry Month, Forum. I figured that, considering the fact that we are working on poetry in class, that it would be appropriate to discuss poems. So, for the sake of National Poetry Month, why don't you either share your favorite poem or discuss a poem you feel is really significant in some way. Thanks for listening, Forum.
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The Conqueror Worm
ReplyDeleteby Edgar Allan Poe
Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.
Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly-
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Woe!
That motley drama- oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.
But see, amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!- it writhes!- with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.
Out- out are the lights- out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.
Exactly what does this poem mean? Well, my opinion is that this poem shows that, no matter how far you go in life, what you do, what you don't do, Death will always find you. the "mimes in the form of God on high" are people. We try to imitate God and each other all the time and, according to religious contexts, humanity is made in God's image. So the mimes are us, humanity. This is why the plot is so horrible and violent.
But what about the Conqueror Worm? Well, I believe that the worm is death. After all, when we are buried, we become nothing more than worm food. So, since the worm eats all the violent, terrible mimes, it is safe to reason that the theme of this poem is that Death catches up to all, especially the violent.
i carry your heart with me
ReplyDeletei carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
ee cummings
Although I fell madly in love with Edgar Allan Poe's "Annabel Lee," I have loved "I carry your with me" for years. Basically this poem depicts the love between two lovers. Yet it's not just any other love, their love is strong, in fact they share a heart! It reminds me of the love between Heathcliff and Catherine. There is a part in Wuthering Heights when Heathcliff utters, "I cannot live without my soul, I cannot live without my heart."
Just as Catherine and Heathcliff were inseparable, these two lovers seem to be unseparable as well.
Alice,
ReplyDeleteI have always known you are a true Romantic at heart. I like how you have overlapped the literary characters, so the poem serves as a template for any two people who love with such depth. It relates to Heathcliff and Catherine even more succinctly because you found textual evidence that matches its meaning.
You can always tell what a person is like by the type of poetry they like.
You already know how much I like Shakespeare's Sonnet 29 but we already went over it in class. So... I also love "Bells" by Edgar Allen Poe which makes extensive use of onomatopoeia:
ReplyDeleteThe Bells by E. A. Poe
I
Hear the sledges with the bells -
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
II
Hear the mellow wedding bells -
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! -how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
III
Hear the loud alarum bells -
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now -now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells -
Of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
IV
Hear the tolling of the bells -
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people -ah, the people -
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All alone,
And who tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone -
They are neither man nor woman -
They are neither brute nor human -
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells,
Of the bells -
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells -
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells -
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
well since everyone posted poems from famous writers, we all know that music is another form of poetry right? so I decide to put the lyrics from the punk rock band Bad Religion. The song is called "I Want To Conquer the World."
ReplyDeleteHey Brother Christian
with your high and mighty errand,
Your actions speak so loud,
I can't hear a word you're saying.
Hey Sister Bleeding Heart
with all of your compassion,
Your labors soothe the hurt
but can't assuage temptation.
Hey man of science
with your perfect rules of measure,
Can you improve this place
with the data that you gather?
Hey Mother Mercy
can your loins bear fruit forever?
Is your fecundity
a trammel or a treasure?
And I want to conquer the world,
Give all the idiots a brand new religion,
Put an end to poverty,
uncleanliness and toil,
Promote equality in all of my decisions
With a quick wink of the eye
And a "God you must be joking!"
Hey Mr. Diplomat
with your worldly aspirations,
Did you see your children cry
when you left them at the station?
Hey moral soldier
you've got righteous proclamation,
And precious tomes
to fuel your pulpy conflagrations.
And I want to conquer the world,
Give all the idiots a brand new religion,
Put an end to poverty,
uncleanliness and toil,
Promote equality in all of my decisions
I want to conquer the world,
Expose the culprits
and feed them to the children,
I'll do away with air pollution
and then I'll save the whales,
We'll have peace on earth
and global communion.
I want to conquer the world!
I want to conquer the world!
I want to conquer the world!
I want to conquer the world!
see what this song is really satiric view on the world. Here he is bashing how religion,politics and deeds that are done for the sake of being right. Notice the brother christian with your high and mighty errand line, this is showing how the good people are obssessed with making the world better along with sister bleeding heart and the scientists on their data that they gathered. Also notice the repitition of "I want to conquer the world!" Here one can infer that he sees how the system works and how he too can rule the world with just the right people, but what he is basically saying here is that he is sick and tired of how the world is messed up right now and he just wants it fixed. He wants the world to be right that he is talking smack about the major influences in our life: Religion, Science and those good samaritans who want to make the world a better place.
One poem that we've all read and a favorite of mine, was Sonnet 24 by William Shakespeare.....
ReplyDeleteMine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;
My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,
And perspective it is best painter's art.
For through the painter must you see his skill
To fine where your true image pictures lies,
Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,
That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.
Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:
Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me
Are windows to my breast, where through the sun
Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee.
Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art;
They draw but what they see, know not the heart.
This poem at first was expessing the love and beauty for a woman. He compares himself a painter trying to paint this image in his heart. What struck me the most, was Shakespeare comparing himself to a empty picture fame and her the picture to complete his life. However, toward the end he see's she does not see him the same in her own hear. It was only a reflection of herself that she loves not him.