Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Sunday, 5 August 2018

God Says Yes To Me

God Says Yes To Me

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes
—Kaylin Haught
  • Begins with God ungendred in first line to contrast the shock of God as 'she' in the second
  • 'nail polish' an acceptance of femininity 
  • Written in a familiar tone - God as a friend

Sunday, 8 April 2018

Still I rise

May Angelou was born in 1928, and died in 2014.

Still I Rise was published in her third volume of poetry in 1978.

It has been compared with spirituals that express hope.



Monday, 19 March 2018

Kindness

By Naomi Shihab Nye


Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.


Monday, 12 September 2016

Ode


Arthur O'Shaughnessy. 1844–1881
 
6. Ode
 
WE are the music-makers, 
  And we are the dreamers of dreams, 
Wandering by lone sea-breakers, 
  And sitting by desolate streams; 
World-losers and world-forsakers,         5
  On whom the pale moon gleams: 
Yet we are the movers and shakers 
  Of the world for ever, it seems. 
  
With wonderful deathless ditties 
We build up the world's great cities,  10
  And out of a fabulous story 
  We fashion an empire's glory: 
One man with a dream, at pleasure, 
  Shall go forth and conquer a crown; 
And three with a new song's measure  15
  Can trample an empire down. 
  
We, in the ages lying 
  In the buried past of the earth, 
Built Nineveh with our sighing, 
  And Babel itself with our mirth;  20
And o'erthrew them with prophesying 
  To the old of the new world's worth; 
For each age is a dream that is dying, 
  Or one that is coming to birth.


  • alliteration
  • ideas of lone genius - 'lone' 'desolate' 'losers' united becoming 'ers'
  • 'we' identity obscured but communal, anyone can identify with
  • ideas of darkness, 'pale moon'
  • written in a more patriarchal and patriotic time
  • biblical references - tower of babel trying to defy nature and God
  • Hope

Sunday, 27 September 2015

Wallace Stevens

Where from:

  • Pennsylvania

When:

  • 1879-1955

Interesting Facts:

  • Harvard
  • lawyer
  • worked at insurance company until death
  • inspired by romantics

Themes:

  • duality
  • sensual experience
  • anticlerical, aesthetical

Works:

  • Transport to Summer
  • Harmonium
  • The auroras of autumn

Tuesday, 15 September 2015

Late Fragment by Raymond Carver

Late Fragment

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

Sunday, 22 March 2015

Feet and Beats

Monometer is a one-foot line

Dimeter is a two foot line

Trimeter is a 3 foot line

Tetrameter is a four foot line

Pentameter is a five foot line

A beat can be seen as a stress which means that the number of beats is often the same as as the number of feet.

But there are more unstressed syllables in a anapestic line than a trochiac line.

Lines with the same number of stresses have the smae number of beats despite the extra syllables.

Stress Patterns

Stress is measured in feet

An iamb is an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable i.e destroy

A trochee is a stressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable i.e football

An anapest consists of two unstressed syllables then a stressed syllable i.e contradict

A dactyl has a stressed syllable followed by two unstressed syllables

Two syllable patterns are more like speech, Three syllable patterns are more 'singsongy'

Thursday, 28 August 2014

I Choose Chains

I have chosen these chains
I have been freed
But yet again
Manacles
Close
In

How do I escape
The cell is unlocked
But it is safe
I love to hide
Shrouding in darkness

My true self
My true love
Seizes me up
I choke
Unable

Permanent flashing
Vulnerability
Cowardice
It consumes me
Tears abuse me
My heart wants to

Explode
And yet
I stay silent
The same
I always choose the chains

Monday, 2 June 2014

Song by Edmund Waller

Song

Go lovely rose,
 Tell her that wastes her time and me,
 That now she knows,
 When I resemble her to thee
 How sweet and faire she seems to be.

 Tell her that’s young,
And shuns to have her Graces spied,
 That hadst thou sprung
 In Deserts, where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.

 Small is the worth
 Of Beauty from the light retired:
 Bid her come forth,
 Suffer herself to be desired,
 And not blush so to be admired.

 Then die, that she
 The common fate of all things rare
 May read in thee,
 How small a part of time they share,
 That are so wondrous sweet and fair.

 Edmund Waller

Monday, 26 May 2014

The Pastoral


  • Can be traced back to 3rd century BC
  • conventionalized picture of rural life
  • natural and innocence vs corruption and artificiality of city and court
  • real vs ideal
  • Yearning for golden age of innocence
  • about shepherds but not written by them
  • use shepherd world to present simple image of complex society
  • social political religious criticism
  • nostalgic
  • written by those in cities
  • innocence don't have in a corrupt world
  • mythologised world
  • Theocritus, Virgil
  • Leisure which the townsmen attributes to countryman
  • Corrupted by outsiders
  • community harmony, value of peace
  • shepherd piping and dancing
  • The garden of Eden
  • tradition from bible and virgil merged
  • image of responsibility as shepherd
  • garden of eden lost suddenly by sin whereas golden age fades gradually by time
  • Wakefeild cycle - second shepherd play (medieval mystery plays)
  • using pastoral for satire
  • The Fairie Queen
  • Milkmaid the english equivalent of french shepherdess
  • As You Like It - exploring seriousness of pastoral, constant debate between pastoral and anti-pastoral
  • The Winter's Tale - only marry shepherdesses if they are secretly daughters of the aristocracy
  • Shepherd able to speak for common man
  • The Sad Shepherd - Ben Jonson
  • Happy Endings
  • Milton  in comus and Paradise Lost

Thursday, 10 April 2014

As My Ancestors Did

Following the path of my fore-mothers,
Coarse and soft,
Old and new,
Rose Red and pea green,
A misty dream,
Of once lived lives,
Around winter fires,
Dried out and pressed,
Fingers darting like swallows,
Trapped between white washed walls,
Methodical like a tin drum,
Until it is finished.
Inhaling in the fresh quiet,
There is yet more work to be done.

Sunday, 30 March 2014

Absence by Elizabeth Jennings

Absence

I visited the place where we last met.
 Nothing was changed, the gardens were well-tended
 The fountains sprayed their usual steady jet;
 There was no sign that anything had ended
 And nothing to instruct me to forget.

 The thoughtless birds that shook out of the trees,
 Singing an ecstasy I could not share,
 Played cunning in my thoughts. Surely in these
 Pleasures there could not be a pain to bear
Or any discord shake the level breeze.

 It was because the place was just the same
That made your absence seem  a savage force,
 For under all the gentleness there came
 An earthquake tremor: fountain, birds and grass
 Were shaken by my thinking of your name.

by
 Elizabeth Jennings

Nature Metaphors - Beauty vs destruction, garden like - tamed, pristine, ordered
Inner turmoil
Statis
Movement
Absence/loss

Thursday, 2 January 2014

And if I did what then?

And if I did what then?
Are you agreev’d therefore?
The Sea hath fishe for every man
And what would you have more?

 Thus did my Mistresse once
Amaze my mind with doubt:
 And popt a question for the nonce,
 To beat my braynes about.

 Whereto I thus replied,
 Eche fisherman can wishe,
That all the Sea at every tyde,
 Were his alone to fishe.

And so did I (in vaine),
 But since it may not be:
 Let such fishe there as find the gaine,
And leave the losse for me.

 And with such lucke and losse,
 I will content my selfe:
 Till tydes of turning time may tosse,
 Such fishers on the shelfe.

 And when they sticke on sands,
That every man may see:
 Then will I laugh and clappe my hands,
 As they do now at mee.

 George Gascoigne

Monday, 18 November 2013

Autumn Sensations

Wading through Sunlight
Ripples across the road
Smiles dance upon the horizon
Humming busily

I see the greyness
Outbid by colourful delight
Leaves leap to their deaths
In an ecstatic moment

I hear the wind whistle
As it rushes on to fresh wonder
Tickling the toes
And unseating careful hairs

I smell the seasons
Turning and changing
New fading to old
To become once again anew

I feel shivers gather round my ankles
Coats drawn closer
Scarves playing windy tug of war
Chills creeping like incy wincy spider

I don't taste anything because that would be weird.
I'm not about to be licking leaves
What if a dog has urinated on it
Or some nasty ass man has trunched over it with his nasty ass boots?

Wednesday, 13 November 2013

The Thread of Life by Christina Rossetti


The irresponsive silence of the land,
The irresponsive silence of the sea,
 Speak both one message of one sense to me:-
 Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand
 Thou too aloof bound with a flawless band
 Of inner solitude; we bind not thee;
 But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free?
 What heart shall touch thy heart? What hand thy hand?-
 And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek,
 And sometimes I remember days of old
 When fellowship seemed not so far to seek
 And all the world and I seemed much less cold,
 And at the rainbow’s foot lay surely gold,
 And hope felt strong and life itself not weak.

 Christina Rossetti

Tuesday, 29 October 2013

Modern Walls

I just feel a bit sad.
That's all.
Searching for a Messiah is hard
Especially when he already exists
But it's so much easier to make men into Gods
You can watch videos of them being cute and funny
And waste your life away
Another manifestation of the patriarchy perhaps?
But I'm babbling
Because I can't communicate
Sure there are lots of extra ways to
But I have nothing to say
That someone hasn't said before
That someone could'nt say better
That is of worth
So I sit
On My Bed
Procrastinating
Because life is for wasting
After all consumerism tells us so.

Wednesday, 2 October 2013

How is sex and sensuality presented in Isabella?



In his poem Isabella Keats presents sex and sensuality as being physical and highly dependent on the senses, whilst also representing it as a consuming and connecting force.
Keats explores the way that physicality is needed to maintain love, and the way that the denial of this affects love. Throughout the poem there are references to Isabella’s then Lorenzo’s physicality, with him enjoying her ‘full shape’ and how he is unable to live without ‘tast(ing her) blossoms’, whilst she becomes much more obsessed with his physicalness once he is dead and she can no longer possess his soul. The way she ‘com’d’ his ‘wild hair’ and ‘Pointed each fringed lash’ gives her an obsessive and yet motherly quality, as combing can be seen as a bonding activity between a parent and their child, and Keat’s emphasis on the word ‘each’ makes her sound meticulous and as though she has become absorbed in menialities. This could perhaps relate to gender stereotypes as men are often seen as more lustful and women as more faithful, and yet both suffer when they are apart. This could suggest both are in constant need of each other’s presence, or that the desire for each other physically makes them ‘sick with longing’, with the word ‘sick’ connoting both a hunger and need for each other, and that their emotions are strong, intensified through absence which drives Lorenzo to ‘watch’ as ‘constant as her vespers’. The word ‘vespers’ could signify his religious devotion, and perhaps contains hints that he needs her as much as humans need Jesus’ body through during communion, painting her as saving him and bringing light into his life. Alternatively however, Keats also portrays love and sex as being physically detrimental to the body, or at least the absence of it ‘makes their cheeks paler’, perhaps connoting the denial of sensual pleasure takes the life from their cheeks, suggesting the idea that physical closeness is the basis of love and sexual desire, both through its absence and its fulfilment, with references to the soul focused mainly when Lorenzo’s soul is absent from his physical body. Perhaps Keats is suggesting that while souls are important for long term affection, the body is the driving force behind physical attraction and desire.

However, the poem is also full of sensuality, with Keats exploring the connection between it and the senses and proximity. There is a music lexis running through the poem, with Isabella’s seeming to give out music with her ‘laugh full musical’, and ‘lute-string giving out an echo of his name’, whilst wishing that Lorenzo’s lips would ‘breathe... love’s tune’. This reliance of sound emphasizes the barriers between them, and their inability to be together physically which heightens the importance of their senses. That Lorenzo knows ‘whose gentle hand was at the latch’ before he’s seen Isabella shows the way that the denial of physical pleasures has deepened the connection between them, and how not being able to see her ‘hand’ at the ‘latch’ makes his expectations and longing much stronger than if they were together all the time. The word ‘hand’ highlights the way that imagination and yearning have taken a more prominent role in their relationship, so much so that Lorenzo has to speak out even when Isabella is ill, to tell her of his intense cravings to touch her. The way he describes their being together through natural metaphors such as a ‘ripe warmth’ as opposed to the manmade ‘in-door lattice’ could perhaps suggest that their love is natural and pure, and is organic instead of restrictive as the ‘lattice’ is. It also connects to Song of Songs, comparing their love to that of Solomon, elevating it to a higher plane, however the use of the words ‘ripe’, ‘lusty’ and ‘blossoms’ make their relationship sound much more sexually orientated, perhaps connoting that delayed gratification makes it all the stronger. Isabella and Lorenzo’s relationship involves all the five senses at first, but this changes after his death as she appears to lose her senses, as she ‘forgets’ everything sensual about the natural world that Lorenzo used to compare her too, letting go of the feeling of a ‘breeze’, hearing the ‘waters run’ and seeing the ‘stars, the moon and sun’. Instead, one sense grows stronger: her sense of smell. That this is the only sense not particularly involved in the early stage of their relationship indicates the way it has changed, with the loss of him giving her no use for her senses. The fact that basil smells so strongly however, with Keats remarking ‘it smelt more balmy than its peers’, is perhaps not only to mask Lorenzo’s decaying head, but also is intoxicating, and its strength could be overpowering her other senses and leaving her fixated upon itself, keeping her from the world around it. The smell’s strength could even remind her of the extreme sensuality she felt with Lorenzo, or it could have such power because the basil has grown out of him and consequently might have the same intoxicating effect. Either way Keats, highlights the links between the senses and emotions, and the way that sensuality can be a wondrous, loving thing or a poisonous, trapping one.

The way that sensuality and sex and be a connecting and a consuming force is also traced through the poem, with Keats exploring the implications of sexual desire and love. At the beginning of the poem, Lorenzo and Isabella’s love is shown to be both connecting as they are ‘twin roses’, and consuming, as the lovers become ‘pale’ and ‘nightly weep’. The fact that they cannot ‘sleep’ is indicative of suffering for love, and the denial of each other’s presence as making them ‘sick’ as they are so connected they need to be together all the time. However, this could also be seen as a consuming force, as their senses and emotion become so concentrated in one another the rest of the world seems unimportant. Furthermore, Keats could be suggesting this all-consuming love is the most devastating of all, because when the ‘twin roses’ become separated by death, Isabella ‘withers’, sacrificing both her mind and eventually her life to her devastating loss. So consumed is she that she kisses Lorenzo’s decaying and mouldy head, losing all sense of reason and hope and becoming utterly absorbed in maintaining his memory. This is another example of how love and desire consume, with Isabella growing ‘thin’ whilst the basil growing out of Lorenzo grows ‘thick’, with it feeding of her in a vampiric way, sucking any life or hope of moving on from her. The way that she wraps herself around her circular ‘garden pot’, feeding it with her won bodily fluids (her tears), is much as a mother feeds her growing child from her own body, with the pot perhaps symbolising the womb. This is a profoundly disturbing image, particularly as ‘basil’ is such a trivial thing that it is not worth giving up your lifeblood for, and her utter absorption in it, not noticing ‘day’ or the ‘new morn’ illustrates how love and desire can become warped and utterly consuming, and perhaps Keats is warning of the dangers of such as profound and complete investment.


In conclusion Keat explores the way the sensuality is driven by physicality and proximity, but also how it can be a dangerous force in the way that it can consume people.

Thursday, 18 July 2013

John Keats to Fanny Brawne

Your Letter gave me more delight than any thing in the world but yourself could do 

Write me ever so few lines and tell me you will never for ever be less kind to me than yesterday - You dazzled me - There is nothing in the world so bright and delicate

 I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again - my Life seems to stop there - I see no further.  You have absorb'd me

You are always new

if you will fully love me, though there may be some fire, 'twill not be more than we can bear when moistened and bedewed with Pleasures

Even my jealousies have been agonies of Love, in the hottest fit I ever had I would have died for you

I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving

There may be a sort of love for which, without the least sneer at it, I have the highest respect and can admire it in others: but it has not the richness, the bloom, the full form, the enchantment of love after my own heart

Do not I see a heart naturally furnish'd with wings imprison itself with me?

 "If I should die," said I to myself, "I have left no immortal work behind me - nothing to make my friends proud of my memory 

the very first week I knew you I wrote myself your vassal; but burnt the Letter as the very next time I saw you I thought you manifested some dislike to me

That Thrush is a fine fellow.  I hope he was fortunate in his choice this year.

I love you the more in that I believe you have liked me for my own sake and for nothing else

You absorb me in spite of myself - you alone

When you are in the room my thoughts never fly out of window: you always concentrate my whole senses

I could be martyr'd for my Religion - Love is my religion - I could die for that - I could die for you

Meantime you must write to me as I will every week for your letters keep me alive. My sweet Girl I cannot speak my love for you.

 My Love is selfish - I cannot breathe without you

I love you ever and ever and without reserve. The more I have known you the more have I lov'd.

how horrid was the chance of slipping into the ground instead of into your arms
the morning is always restorative

I should as soon think of choosing to die as to part from you

I fear I am too prudent for a dying kind of Lover

I have loved the principle of beauty in all things

I have lick'd it but it remains very purplue [for purple].  I did not know whether to say purple or blue, so in the mixture of the thought wrote purplue which may be an excellent name for a colour made up of those two

love me for ever
JK

Friday, 12 April 2013

Poetry: On Art

I despise all art
And Yet I write poetry
Better Stop Now Then