my favorite blog Wednesday, Nov 19 2008

She breathes art,

 

I always found myself reading this blog even if I didnt comment on it. This person really knows their poetry and feels strongly for it. I always enjoyed comments from this person and tried to improve upon them. The posts were always strong and well organized, and always creative and imaginative. I found myself really enjoying the poets they picked. Just an all around great blog.

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Poetry with a guitar solo Monday, Nov 10 2008

Say Anything- I want to know your plans

 

I want to know your plans and how involved in them I am.
When I go to sleep for good will I be forgiven?
And If you want roses you can go buy a bouquet.
If that just won’t cut it, well what can I say?

You’re what keeps me believing the world’s not gone dead,
Strength in my bones put the words in my head.
When they pour out to paper, it’s all for you.
‘Cause that’s what you do. That’s what you do.

I want to know your fears, from your feet to the back of your ears.
When they raise the landing gear will your heart stay here?
If you could forgive me for being so brash, well you…
you could hit me or whip me, I’d savor each lash.

You’re what keeps me believing the world’s not gone dead,
Strength in my bones put the words in my head.
When they pour out to paper, it’s all for you.
‘Cause that’s what you do.

No more fighting.
This is only a waste of our time
’cause soon we’ll be leaving.
Will this strength still be mine?
I’ll look out for you ’til I die, ’til I rot.
I’ll remember you ’til I die, until I rot.

You’re what keeps me believing the world’s not gone dead,
Strength in my bones put the words in my head.
When they pour out to paper, it’s all for you.

You’re what keeps me believing the world’s not gone dead,
Strength in my bones put the words in my head.
When they pour out to paper, it’s all for you.
‘Cause that’s what you do.

 

 

This is one of my all time favorite songs; Say Anything has such passionate lyrics. Love is a very common topic for songs and poetry. It usually has the same message over and over, but I really connected with this song. I feel for this guy he has thrown himself whole heartedly on to this girl in the hopes that she will take him. He confesses that she is his muse “put the words in my head.When they pour out to paper, it’s all for you.” To be motivated by one person, everything he writes or creates is for her.

 

I noticed that the character is not a happy camper. I got the impression he has kind of given up on the world around him. But the thought of this girl is enough for him; I was taken back by that. This is a beautiful song that flows so well and really makes you take a minute and think which is nice. I hope you listen to it because I’m a big fan.

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So much depends on so little Sunday, Nov 2 2008

The Red Wheelbarrow

William Carlos Williams

---

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

 

When I first read this poem in high school I thought it was a little strange. But after reading so much poetry lately I finally appreciate this poem. The details show the image to the reader, it got me to take a minute and picture this random wheel barrow. It’s a very original idea with a creative way of writing.

This is a short poem that still leaves a lasting impression. After reading I thought of what could possibly depend on an ordinary red wheelbarrow. But I guess that’s why this poem is good it creates questions and thinking.

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The best death ever Monday, Oct 27 2008

Let Me Die a Youngman’s Death

Let me die a youngman’s death not a clean and inbetween the sheets holywater death not a famous-last-words peaceful out of breath death When I’m 73 and in constant good tumour may I be mown down at dawn by a bright red sports car on my way home from an allnight party Or when I’m 91 with silver hair and sitting in a barber’s chair may rival gangsters with hamfisted tommyguns burst in and give me a short back and insides Or when I’m 104 and banned from the Cavern may my mistress catching me in bed with her daughter and fearing for her son cut me up into little pieces and throw away every piece but one Let me die a youngman’s death not a free from sin tiptoe in candle wax and waning death not a curtains drawn by angels borne ‘what a nice way to go’ death Roger McGough

 

 

This poem made me laugh, I love the way the character hopes for a final adventure for his death. I think we all want to live young even when were old. To crave mischief before your last breathe is a simple request I think. He’s definitely a risk taker with his visions of his final moments. I couldn’t imagine thinking about my death but I like to think I’ll have an ending equal to the story of my life.

 

McGough has a funny view on life that really interests me. The word death is used through out the poem but it doesn’t have a dark tone to it. It’s like a joke almost as to how the character will die. At least that’s how I saw it, I randomly stumbled upon this poem and I’m very happy I did.

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The most Powerful element Monday, Oct 20 2008

Water

Everything on the earth bristled, the bramble pricked and the green thread nibbled away, the petal fell, falling until the only flower was the falling itself. Water is another matter, has no direction but its own bright grace, runs through all imaginable colors, takes limpid lessons from stone, and in those functioning’s plays out the unrealized ambitions of the foam.Pablo Neruda

 

 

Pablo Neruda seems to always find the purity in his world. He is so focused on the detail of the descent of a water drop. I like the line “has no direction but its own bright grace” the water reminds me of the idea of creativity. It’s so wild and free it could take any turn and go in any direction. Yet it still hast to live by rules just like everything else in the world.

 

Such a depressing setting in the beginning the world is still and stiff as the beauty of a flower dies. But then changes to a new topic mid poem with such ease, as if he had no direction like water. He flows like the water does his writing holds unbelievable potential and ambition. And his writings always seem to go by his rules and his alone.

 

 I can’t get enough of Pablo Neruda’s poetry I tell all my friends to check him out and they are never disappointed.

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The fight is never over Monday, Oct 6 2008

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on that sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Dylan Thomas

 

 

After reading this poem by Dylan Thomas I felt as though the character was fighting an ongoing battle with his mortality. As if going gently into that good night would be a sign of defeat, that we must be defiant till the end of our days. The character describes old men as wise because they realize the end is near and refuse to bow out gracefully. On the other hand the character also points out the foolishness of the young brash men and their deeds. “Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way” When I read that stanza and felt a little depressed because it makes me wonder if our adventures or memories are trivial in the grand scheme of things.

 

I may have sought out a depressing tone at first but I do enjoy the rebellious message. Repeating the last lines of the stanza’s through out the poem displays a constant message. Do not accept your fate if you don’t want to,“Rage, rage against the dying of the light” Every person controls their destiny to some extent, so why not have say over how you go into that good night.

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lust in a bottle Sunday, Sep 28 2008

Drunk As Drunk by Pablo Neruda

Drunk as drunk on turpentine
From your open kisses,
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body and the strake
Of our boat that is made of flowers,
Feasted, we guide it – our fingers
Like tallows adorned with yellow metal -
Over the sky’s hot rim,
The day’s last breath in our sails.

Pinned by the sun between solstice
And equinox, drowsy and tangled together
We drifted for months and woke
With the bitter taste of land on our lips,
Eyelids all sticky, and we longed for lime
And the sound of a rope
Lowering a bucket down its well. Then,
We came by night to the Fortunate Isles,
And lay like fish
Under the net of our kisses.

This poem shows pure emotion and passion. The character is a living canvas as he follows his physical desires and is fueled by alcohol. The tone of this poem is light hearted and seems to focus on lust. I like that the character is so open and free as if they were living in a state of nirvana. With no issues of love or reality this character only wants a person to partake in the physical pleasures he wants.

The second part of the poem is what really speaks to me. “We drifted for months and woke with the bitter taste of land on our lips” I see that as the character admitting an end to an affair. As two people drift I see that as two people consumed with passion. But once the passion is gone is there anything left of what was? I think that’s a question that everyone asks, once the lust is gone will there still be love? But no matter what questions you ask this poem is still an amazing piece of art.

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Monday, Sep 22 2008

The Question       Love, a question has destroyed you.I have come back to you from thorny uncertainty. I want you straight as the sword or the road. But you insist on keeping a nook of shadow that I do not want. My love, understand me, I love all of you, from eyes to feet, to toenails, inside, all the brightness, which you kept. It is I, my love, who knocks at your door. It is not the ghost, it is not the one who once stopped at your window. I knock down the door: I enter your life: I come to live in your soul: you cannot cope with me. You must open door to door, you must obey me, you must open your eyes so that I may search in them, you must see how I walk with heavy steps along all the roads that, blind, were waiting for me. Do not fear, I am yours, but I am not the passenger or the beggar, I am your master, the one you were waiting for, and now I enter your life, no more to leave it, love, love, love, but to stay. Pablo Neruda He demands a pure love without any challenges before him. His heart is with her forever but his mind is resisting. Well aware of the past and the threats that may lie ahead he still lays his feelings before her. Yet he is not without his own demands he will not accept anything less that her heart in return. Which I think is a very reasonable demand. “I am not the passenger or the beggar” he won’t accept taking a back seat when it comes to her. Begging her to look into her heart and see what he is to her, he doesn’t want to lose her. As he attempts to enter her life all he wants is an honest chance. No shadows of doubt or crooked roads laced with lies. I think that’s a very noble thing to, lay down your heart in all vulnerability before another person. He knows the reality that they make not want it as their own, he still drives for an answer. Pablo talks of love as if it is an object or presence around these two people. It drives this man through uncertainty and loneliness; he doesn’t doubt his feelings for her. I find myself loving his poetry with every piece of art I read and I hope you do the same.

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A broken heart can never fully heal Monday, Sep 15 2008

Tonight I Can Write

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.Write, for example, ‘The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I held her in my arms. I kissed her again and again under the endless sky. She loved me, sometimes I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her. To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture. What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is starry and she is not with me. This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me. The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same. I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing. Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses. Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes. I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long. Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her. By pablo neruda   http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tonight-i-can-write/        I lost a love that was near and dear to my heart. It was no ones fault but my own and this poem seems to embody all that I’m feeling. Because no matter how much I burn for her that love is lost. My soul will never be happy or pleased with future loves. Yet I can not dwell on the past because no progress will come from it. And this poem shows the closure that is needed after a broken heart. “I no longer lover her, thats certain, but how i loved her” I know I dont feel the same about her but the feeling i had for her still linger in my heart.       This poem shows the true nature of love and the heartships of lust. The never ending quest to find ones soul mate is a very frustrating adventure. But in the end if its not who you’re meant for then you must walk away. No matter how much you dont want to, its what has to be done.

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Growing into a poet Tuesday, Sep 9 2008

A New Poet

Linda Pastan

Finding a new poet
is like finding a new wildflower
out in the woods. You don’t see

its name in the flower books, and
nobody you tell believes
in its odd color or the way

its leaves grow in splayed rows
down the whole length of the page. In fact
the very page smells of spilled

red wine and the mustiness of the sea
on a foggy day – the odor of truth
and of lying.

And the words are so familiar,
so strangely new, words
you almost wrote yourself, if only

in your dreams there had been a pencil
or a pen or even a paintbrush,
if only there had been a flower.

 http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-new-poet/

 

I loved this poem I feel that it shows just how beautiful poetry can be. How it can just flow from anyone’s fingers. Becoming a poet seems much more manageable. I do hope to study poetry more closely with the dreams of possibly writing in the future. And this poem has shown me that whether or not I am successful that I can still make something beautiful. The way Linda Pastan combines the discovery of a new flower and a new poet is amazing ”Finding a new poet is like finding a new wildflower out in the woods”. And how a young writer’s true talent can grow as fast and strong as a plant,”its leaves grow in splayed rows down the whole length of the page”. I really loved how she painted a picture through out this poem I think it’s an excellent piece of work. The simple connection with birth of a new poet and a beautiful plant is an original outlook.

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