Sunlight caresses hilltops
Diffused by dewy gossamer
Entangled among the scene leaving
Its sparkling remembrance
On them, on me,
On trees too. Attempting to
Raise those dumbbell eyes
To greet a day not for
Me with gloppy
Moist ejaculations muting the suns
Prongs. Yet I rise: crawl,
Sprawl, hobble, wobble,
Stand
Walk, hop.
And life in moving
Rotates-The Sun
Manipulating, crafting
A path toward penetration.
And I wake my eyes again,
Again yet it’s later and the Sun
Stands straight, austere,
Not allowing blockades this time.
Through the door I
Come; Sun surrounds me,
Envelops me in its golden transmission.
Warming, weakening, empowering
‘Til it envades my soul, my body.
Sleep no longer permeates in crevasse filled
With shafts of Sunbeams.
And I am grown, am woman,
Am just me
Because of this seemingly
Never-ending
Sun.
And life in moving
Rotates-The Sun
Continues
Manipulating, crafting, succeeding
A path toward penetration and retreat.
Rising, Reaching,
CLIMAXING, Then
The slow setting is in place.
Stroking those maiden hills,
Embracing those virgin roads,
Rustling those rolling meadows,
And one breath spreads
The dewy down telling
The world
To
Rest.
And the days when the Sun
Came seem so far,
So far away and yet
My toes still tingle,
And my mouth still moistens,
And my knees, my
Knees they tremble
As if it-he-it never left remembering
The creation of the purist pallets
When he gleamed on them
The hills raised, the trees became
Erect, and the firmament gained a twinkle.
Now I look on those memories,
A mere mural of lights in the
Sky which once was my life.
One more star, a rose-flesh colored
Light from the beach on that night long
ago. Do you, can you
Remember?
I can, in me
Still. And yet your comet
Still pervades
Other’s skies.
Yet there is one consolation,
That life in moving
Rotates-The Sun
Manipulating, crafting, succeeding
A path which creates and relates
And mostly connects the seemingly
Separate quality existing in
The day.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
"Flying Japan" by Kira Conley
Flying around down
through the city of lights,
a language unfamilar,
but i understand.
Where do i go from
here?
Could it be for others, or
myself.
Where do i go from
here?
Flying around in
the atmosphere.
Kimonos walk, down cobbled
streets, wet
with dew and litterings.
Questions in eyes of
pedestrians going by:
Why are you here?
Where do I go from
here?
Do I belong, should I stay.
Where do I go from
here?
Flying around in
the atmosphere.
Could I teach,
language so dear, do
they even want me here?
Can I make a difference
it is clear!
Only going will I know.
through the city of lights,
a language unfamilar,
but i understand.
Where do i go from
here?
Could it be for others, or
myself.
Where do i go from
here?
Flying around in
the atmosphere.
Kimonos walk, down cobbled
streets, wet
with dew and litterings.
Questions in eyes of
pedestrians going by:
Why are you here?
Where do I go from
here?
Do I belong, should I stay.
Where do I go from
here?
Flying around in
the atmosphere.
Could I teach,
language so dear, do
they even want me here?
Can I make a difference
it is clear!
Only going will I know.
A Journey: Dickinson and "Death"
Emily Dickinson’s poem “Because I could not stop for Death” details an intimate carriage ride between the speaker of the poem and “Death,” personified. The reader travels on a journey with the speaker and “Death,” passing through a figuratively bountiful life, and ultimately ceasing at “eternity.” The poem is a commentary on how difficult it is to accept one’s own immortality.
The rhyme scheme of the poem becomes important in creating a feeling of motion throughout, mimicking the carriage ride. Dickinson uses the classical hymn stanza, an iambic quatrain with 8 and 6 syllables repeating. Furthermore, there is slant rhyme on the second and fourth line of every stanza. For example, the words in stanza two, like “away” and “civility” are not rhymed identical but are close enough for there to be anticipation of the rhyme when reading. The only stanza that fails to have a slant rhyme is stanza 3, where “ring” and “sun” are put in the rhyming positions. Dickinson creates this friction to enhance the feeling of separation between the living children, depicted in the stanza, and the speaker who is being carried off by “Death.”
Dickinson establishes a plot, in this case a carriage ride, “which creates in the reader a subtle sense of expectation, the anticipation of closure” (Anderson 218). The first line starts as if in the middle of a sentence using the word “Because,” further stressing the fact that the speaker does not want to “stop for Death,” or cease living her life (2). The speaker goes on to say that “The carriage held but just ourselves/And Immortality” (3-4). With the carriage only holding the speaker and “Death,” it is interesting that the speaker goes on to say that also “Immortality” is in the carriage. Does Dickinson mean that “Immortality” is also personified, being the only other word capitalized besides “Death,” and therefore represents a fellow traveler? I do not think that that is Dickinson’s purpose to personify “Immortality,” for it is not mentioned throughout the rest of the poem. Instead I feel she capitalized “Immortality” for the sake of drawing attention to the magnitude of “life” beyond death. The speaker realizes that this is not an ordinary carriage ride with a “kindly” gentleman, but one that will transcend time and space; and one whose destination is not finite.
In stanza 2, the speaker and “Death” continue on their journey towards an undisclosed destination. The speaker states that they “slowly drove, he knew no haste,” (5) which is not surprising since death is eternal there would be no rush in the after-life. The speaker goes on to say that due to the nature of their journey she puts away “[Her] labor, and [her] leisure too,/For his civility” (214). Dickinson creates this paradox between “labor” and “leisure” for the speaker will need neither where she is going.
The third stanza creates images that the speaker and “Death” are traveling through a lifetime of memories. The first image is that of children playing “at wrestling in a ring” (10). This image is symbolic of childhood. The ring that the children play acts as a barrier into the living world, for which the speaker no longer belongs. Lilia Melani states that “here the speaker is excluded from activities and involvement in life; the dead are outside ‘the ring’ of life” (par.6). Next, the carriage passes “fields of gazing grain” (11). The grain here is a symbol of fertility, thus this part of their journey represents middle life and parenthood. The alliteration of “gazing grain” not only sounds interesting but also alludes to the idea that the grain has eyes, like children would. The final image drawn here is that the carriage passes “the setting sun” (12). The “setting sun” is an archetypal image for an older person, one approaching death. Thus, the cycle is complete, going from children playing to the setting sun; childhood to one’s death bed. This cyclical movement is further enhanced in the repetition seen at the beginning of lines nine, eleven, and twelve.
Stanza 4 is where the speaker becomes unsure of her surroundings and thus the images are muddled. She states that they “paused before a house that seemed/A swelling of the ground” (13-14). The use of the word “seemed” shows the uncertainty at which the speaker is detailing the events. So what, if not a house, is the speaker seeing? The speaker, I believe, is looking upon her own grave. The “swelling of the ground” (14) refers to the actual grave sight, the “home” of the dead. Furthermore, the speaker describes this “house” by saying that the “roof was scarcely visible,/the cornice but a mound” (15-16). The “roof “ is hard to see because there are no roofs on gravestones. And the cornice, or what would be molding on a house, is only a “mound,” just like there would be a mound of earth encircling where the casket was lowered. The speaker’s confusion throughout this stanza is based on her realization that “Death” has finally stopped for her, and she will no longer be among the living.
The final stanza captures the insurmountable and unimaginable amount of time the speaker has passed since her ride with “Death.” She professes that;
Since then ‘it is centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses’ heads
Were toward eternity (17-20).
Again, Dickinson uses paradox, between “centuries” and a “day.” The speaker states that the day she realized the ultimate journey of the carriage, or death, seemed longer that each century she has been dead.
Dickinson takes her readers on a journey with “Death” in a carriage ride. From childhood games to aging, the reader sympathizes with the speaker in her realization that her journey with “Death” is final, and that she will never return from this journey. The poem is a commentary on the acceptance of death, that for the speaker and for everyone the acceptance of death is difficult. And often, one does not want to stop for death, and in those cases “he will kindly stop for” you.
Works Cited
Anderson, Douglas. Presence and Place in Emily Dickinson’s Poetry. New England Quarterly, Aug. 2010.3 Feb. 2010.
Melani, Lilia. Death is Personified. Feb. 2009.3 Feb. 2010.
The rhyme scheme of the poem becomes important in creating a feeling of motion throughout, mimicking the carriage ride. Dickinson uses the classical hymn stanza, an iambic quatrain with 8 and 6 syllables repeating. Furthermore, there is slant rhyme on the second and fourth line of every stanza. For example, the words in stanza two, like “away” and “civility” are not rhymed identical but are close enough for there to be anticipation of the rhyme when reading. The only stanza that fails to have a slant rhyme is stanza 3, where “ring” and “sun” are put in the rhyming positions. Dickinson creates this friction to enhance the feeling of separation between the living children, depicted in the stanza, and the speaker who is being carried off by “Death.”
Dickinson establishes a plot, in this case a carriage ride, “which creates in the reader a subtle sense of expectation, the anticipation of closure” (Anderson 218). The first line starts as if in the middle of a sentence using the word “Because,” further stressing the fact that the speaker does not want to “stop for Death,” or cease living her life (2). The speaker goes on to say that “The carriage held but just ourselves/And Immortality” (3-4). With the carriage only holding the speaker and “Death,” it is interesting that the speaker goes on to say that also “Immortality” is in the carriage. Does Dickinson mean that “Immortality” is also personified, being the only other word capitalized besides “Death,” and therefore represents a fellow traveler? I do not think that that is Dickinson’s purpose to personify “Immortality,” for it is not mentioned throughout the rest of the poem. Instead I feel she capitalized “Immortality” for the sake of drawing attention to the magnitude of “life” beyond death. The speaker realizes that this is not an ordinary carriage ride with a “kindly” gentleman, but one that will transcend time and space; and one whose destination is not finite.
In stanza 2, the speaker and “Death” continue on their journey towards an undisclosed destination. The speaker states that they “slowly drove, he knew no haste,” (5) which is not surprising since death is eternal there would be no rush in the after-life. The speaker goes on to say that due to the nature of their journey she puts away “[Her] labor, and [her] leisure too,/For his civility” (214). Dickinson creates this paradox between “labor” and “leisure” for the speaker will need neither where she is going.
The third stanza creates images that the speaker and “Death” are traveling through a lifetime of memories. The first image is that of children playing “at wrestling in a ring” (10). This image is symbolic of childhood. The ring that the children play acts as a barrier into the living world, for which the speaker no longer belongs. Lilia Melani states that “here the speaker is excluded from activities and involvement in life; the dead are outside ‘the ring’ of life” (par.6). Next, the carriage passes “fields of gazing grain” (11). The grain here is a symbol of fertility, thus this part of their journey represents middle life and parenthood. The alliteration of “gazing grain” not only sounds interesting but also alludes to the idea that the grain has eyes, like children would. The final image drawn here is that the carriage passes “the setting sun” (12). The “setting sun” is an archetypal image for an older person, one approaching death. Thus, the cycle is complete, going from children playing to the setting sun; childhood to one’s death bed. This cyclical movement is further enhanced in the repetition seen at the beginning of lines nine, eleven, and twelve.
Stanza 4 is where the speaker becomes unsure of her surroundings and thus the images are muddled. She states that they “paused before a house that seemed/A swelling of the ground” (13-14). The use of the word “seemed” shows the uncertainty at which the speaker is detailing the events. So what, if not a house, is the speaker seeing? The speaker, I believe, is looking upon her own grave. The “swelling of the ground” (14) refers to the actual grave sight, the “home” of the dead. Furthermore, the speaker describes this “house” by saying that the “roof was scarcely visible,/the cornice but a mound” (15-16). The “roof “ is hard to see because there are no roofs on gravestones. And the cornice, or what would be molding on a house, is only a “mound,” just like there would be a mound of earth encircling where the casket was lowered. The speaker’s confusion throughout this stanza is based on her realization that “Death” has finally stopped for her, and she will no longer be among the living.
The final stanza captures the insurmountable and unimaginable amount of time the speaker has passed since her ride with “Death.” She professes that;
Since then ‘it is centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses’ heads
Were toward eternity (17-20).
Again, Dickinson uses paradox, between “centuries” and a “day.” The speaker states that the day she realized the ultimate journey of the carriage, or death, seemed longer that each century she has been dead.
Dickinson takes her readers on a journey with “Death” in a carriage ride. From childhood games to aging, the reader sympathizes with the speaker in her realization that her journey with “Death” is final, and that she will never return from this journey. The poem is a commentary on the acceptance of death, that for the speaker and for everyone the acceptance of death is difficult. And often, one does not want to stop for death, and in those cases “he will kindly stop for” you.
Works Cited
Anderson, Douglas. Presence and Place in Emily Dickinson’s Poetry. New England Quarterly, Aug. 2010.
Melani, Lilia. Death is Personified. Feb. 2009.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Familiar Face: Whitman, Arnold, Yeats, and Frost
Poetry is comfortable, in that, despite other uncontrollable forces you can always revisit a poem and the same words are there. This is how I felt when I revisited the poems from this weeks readings. Frost, Whitman, Yeats and Arnold are some of my favorite poets, and coming back to their poems have given me pleasure once again.
Some of my favorites from the reading include "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost. Although this is a very canonized poem I find that with every reading its meaning of choice resonate with me. The iambic heart beat that pulses as you read makes the poem unassuming and natural, not forced. But, the idea that the speaker takes "the road not taken," always makes me think. I relate to the speaker in that we all look back on our lives and think about a choice we had to make. And with no way to go back and change those events we romanticize the choice, like the speaker, saying that he "took the one less traveled by/And that has made all the difference." We know the roads are the similar yet looking back this seemingly unimportant decision between roads that "equally lay/in leaves" has changed the speaker's life. I love the line that states "Oh, I kept the first for another day!" It is ironical in that the with the choice the speaker has made to take the other road, he will never be able to come back for the first. The bittersweet sensation of choice and remembrance is what makes this poem so memorable.
Matthew Arnold's poem "Dover Beach" is another poem that, through its beautiful imagery, remains a favorite for me. The first stanza brings up images of Dover Beach where the "cliffs of England stand,/glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay." Although it has been years since I have read this poem I still can recall the images it once created for me. Yet the message that despite the insecurity and inconstancy in the world the "Sea of Faith" offers stability. The speaker claims that the world which is "so various, so beautiful, so new" has "neither joy, nor love, nor light,/Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain." This can only be solved through the acceptance of the "ignorant armies" in faith; a very lovely idea.
"March Violets" Part II
It is very interesting how music can have a great affect on your impression of a piece. After listening to "March Violets" many of my concepts of its meaning transformed. My feelings that it was about war or something dark were confirmed with the foreboding melody and verses. The slow beat increased the feeling of questioning or sadness which was climaxed in the final lines "Everyday is the Ides of March/(Look on the blind side, sleep with your bright side down)."
Not only did listening to the song create a deeper message about what the poet was attempting to say; but it also encouraged me to think more universally about songs versus poetry. I find that, in a way, songs can rely on melody to create meaning and an overall tone of a piece. Whereas poetry must create this affect using literary devices such as internal rhyme, form, assonance, consonance, etc. There is no way to say which is better, they are independent entities and should be treated as such.
Not only did listening to the song create a deeper message about what the poet was attempting to say; but it also encouraged me to think more universally about songs versus poetry. I find that, in a way, songs can rely on melody to create meaning and an overall tone of a piece. Whereas poetry must create this affect using literary devices such as internal rhyme, form, assonance, consonance, etc. There is no way to say which is better, they are independent entities and should be treated as such.
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