The Second Coming - William Butler Yeats

I'm not a very religious person, nor do I know a lot about the Christian religion, but I do like the concept of this poem. I feel like it's a plea, but a very strategic plea. I have to have sympathy for Yeats here...something his whole life revolved on, something so familiar, something so important to him has slowly but surely started to dissolve. The innocence he once knew that branched from this religion is now shattered. It's almost like a poem about death, and losing somebody you love dearly. Somebody who was practically the backbone of your existence...is this how somebody feels when they lose a parent? I've always felt like if you lose your parents, you lose the one last hope you ever had if you made a mistake or needed guidance. Yeats similarly experiences the loss of something that guided him and many others in the right direction, but hopes for a miracle. He writes about seeing the second coming of a prophet.

The poem is simple. It doesn't carry any confusing overtones - Yeats has lost something and wants it back. Even the biggest dummy in religion can figure this one out (I hope). I'm not very distraught about what he writes even though I feel sympathy for him, because he leaves his reader with hope in the second stanza. He sees the new prophet walking through the desert and making a comeback. To me it's a very colorful poem - the imagery he uses, especially in the second stanza is extremely colorful and vivid. I can picture the lion-man walking through the desert on his way to Bethlehem. Like Hopkins, Yeats's poetry is very flouous - you don't stutter or hesitate at any part. It's very prose-ish.

Spring and Fall - Gerard Manley Hopkins

This poem is so cute! I know, I know, it's rhyming, but it's so adorable. It's a sweet poem that speaks out to me especially because I always remember my elders telling me to enjoy childhood because it was so precious, but I disagreed with them because being a grown-up seemed so glamourous and seemed to open up so many doors to freedom. Now I can see that these doors of freedom come with more doors of limitation, and innocence is something I miss everyday. And it seems like just yesterday when I'd be in my driveway as a child, playing with chalk or the sandbox, or my bike or hot wheels (yeah I had a hot wheels, jealous are you?) and I just wish I could go back to those carefree days and experience them again.

I feel like it's a grandpa talking to his grand-daughter about the trials and tribulations of life, telling her that life gets hard and that it's difficult. He's telling her to cherish childhood and innocence (Lines 5-6) because as you get older, life gets more difficult as do the things you encounter. There's a shift in here somewhere, where I stop completely understanding what Hopkins is saying - it starts on line 10 "Now no matter, child, the name: / Sorrow's springs are the same." What's the name he's refering to? Whose name? After this point in the poem I start to lose track of what exactly he's trying to say. Albeit this shift, the poem seems very flouous - it's simple and pure. It flows in and out, and I can see the words being woven onto the page...at least that's what it feels like.

Jabberwocky - Lewis Carroll

'Twas 4 o'clock in the afternoon and the slimy badgers
Did whirl round and make holes in the grass plot around a sundial;
All unhappy were the thin-shabby birds
And the home green pigs bellowed/whistled with a sneeze in between.

Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the desperate bird, and shun
The furious/fuming swiftmoving creature with snapping jaws.


He took his deadly/extremely sharp sword in hand;
Long time the monstrous/fearsome foe he sought --
So he rested by the Tumtum tree
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in gruffish/roughish/huffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came blowing/driving through the dense/dark wood,
And bleated/murmured/proclaimed as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The deadly/extremely sharp blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galloping triumphantly back.

'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy
O fair/fabulous/joyous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chuckled/snorted in his joy.

'Twas 4 o'clock in the afternoon and the slimy badgers
Did whirl round and make holes in the grass plot around a sundial;
All unhappy were the thin-shabby birds
And the home green pigs bellowed/whistled with a sneeze in between.

This poem is nearly impossible to read. When I first started reading it, I thought I'd try to figure out the words on my own -- maybe they were Old English for some words I already knew. But as it turned out, that wasn't the case, since all the words I thought it could have meant, made absolutely no sense (although I guess that could have been what Carroll was going for here). So as I was trying to find the definitions to all the words I did not know (which, I'm sure you can assume, took a very very long time) I stumbled across the Wikipedia article for this poem, which took each word and defined it, or at least the best assumption as to what it meant. I love how Carroll made up his own words, and it's so totally something I'd want to do. I've heard that Lewis Carroll was a pretty messed up individual, and it certainly shows in his writing. However, it's just soo much fun picturing all these ficticious creatures in the forest. Certainly reminds me of Alice in Wonderland. The tulgey wood he speaks of in line 15 reminds me of Super Mario World for the Super Nintendo; there's a world in there that is called the Forest of Illusion, and since most of the creatures in that game are ficticious, this poem really reminded me of it.

I think the message Carroll is trying to get across here though is cute. The boy in this poem is out to kill the Jabberwock, which is the name of a monster in Carroll's Through the Looking Glass, which I suppose is based on the term jabberwocky, referring to nonsense and meaningless langugage. He also wants to "shun the frumious Bandersnatch" (Lines 7-8) and beware of the Jubjub bird (Line 6). If we look at the big picture then, these are all things that hinder our lives - nonsense and meaningless language slow down the process of thinking or activity. The Jubjub bird, or a bird of desperation, refers to desperation itself, and how we really don't want to get stuck in desperation, but we should try to overcome it. The Bandersnatch is a swift moving creature, which we have to learn how to defeat, because this other creature, if it moves fast enough, can defeat us first, so we have to learn how to be quick or witty. Since the boy has defeated all three of the above, he has defeated some of life's most prevalent issues.

This poem was written in such a style that describes most people's lives; it's messy and jumbled and hard to make sense out of. But if you're patient enough to weed through it, a sense of gratification and reward comes through you.

The Convergence of the Twain - Thomas Hardy

I chose this poem for one reason - it's broken up into 3 line segments, which makes it easier to dissect and analyze...or one would think. Even though I get the gist of what's going on, and I love the way he describes the fate of the ship and the iceberg in the later sections, the first few sections are a little hard for me to understand. The first two lines are great, and are a really nice way to open the poem up, but the last line of the section confuses me. He says "And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she." If I'm interpreting this right, he's saying that the vain one who built and thought of Titanic is quietly sitting. But since he uses "she" at the end, he is therefore implying that the mind behind Titanic is a woman? Which wouldn't make sense because the builder was man, if I'm not mistaken. Then the third section...it seems like Hardy put the poem into these section to, like I said earlier, be able to dissect and interpret each one more intimately, which should make it easier. But it also seems that within this section, the idea shifts. He's talking about mirrors and glass, and wealth, and then shifts to a sea-worm that's slimy and gross? Is this section about the worm and what he sees? Everything seems so jumbled and out of place. ESPECIALLY when you get to section IV...because his thought just CUTS OFF AT THE END...and I'm like, whoa did I miss a line? Did I miss something? There's no ending to this thought! But as you read on, you see that the thought is continued at the next section. This is extremely confusing!!!

But now that I think about it, the whole setup of this poem makes me envision what the Titanic lies in now...which is a sea of jumble. The water just keeps swishing all over the place, scattering all of what lies/d in the Titanic around...like this poem. I can hear the movement of the water now, as I read this poem. What I also took notice of before, is why Hardy arranged this poem the way he did. This may seem far-fetched, but each stanza looks like a mini-Titanic, especially with the roman numerals on top of each stanza. The last line is the deck of course, and it has the layers on top (the other two lines) and the roman numeral could be the top of one of those pipe/stack/exhaust things that were on the Titanic.

I guess that's all I have to say about that.

258: There's a certain Slant of light - Emily Dickison

Coming from The Normal Review, I can tell you that we absolutely hate rhyming poems unless they totally blow us away. This would probably be one of those poems that blow us away. There's so many different little things to interpret, it's so freaking awesome! I see the slant of light in this poem as the light that comes from the sun setting during winter afternoons. She says "Heavenly Hurt, it gives us-/We can find no scar,/But internal difference,/Where the Meanings, are-" Wintertime sunsets for some reason always give me a slight sense of distress. The days are shorter, and I just hate seeing the day come to an end. For me it always meant my parents would be coming home from work soon, and I was one of those weird children that didn't want my parents to come home. Not that I didn't love the, but I had just gotten so cozy with the day, that the end of the day, and them coming home was just kind of distressful. It was a change.

I don't know why, but this feeling evokes a kind of relieving distressful tone with me; seeing that someone else has written about this sort of distress is a relief. The words she uses aren't particularly sad, and her dashes give me a chance to just stop, break, and think about what she's saying. I just love this kind of stuff. I feel like there's still so much more behind this poem than what I'm seeing, and I wish I could find out what it is. Maybe it has something to do with death, and the feeling of distress you get with that? (Heavenly Hurt - somebody dies, and goes to heaven, but you still feel sad). Cathedral tunes, like sad Cathedral tunes during a funeral procession? I don't know, it's still pretty amazing. I love how I don't have to know entirely what a poem is about to know that I like it.

When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer - Walt Whitman

I seriously admire any man named Walt...they tend to spark emotions in me that just make me smile. This poem should be a poem that is read to every baby that walks out of the womb. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I remember learning in my Shakespeare class with Liebler, that our generation needs certainty. We need answers to everything. We need a cause for an effect. Without it we feel distressed and unsure of everything. But in this poem, Whitman is proving that wrong. Whitman is telling us that not everything needs reason, it just needs appreciation. Take for example a television (because I have mine on right now). You don't need to know how exactly everything inside it is wired, how it works, the calculations and diagrams, the science behind it...you don't need to know all that stuff to appreciate the fact that it works. Similarly with the night sky...who cares about all the calculations behind the planets and astronomy? You just need to know it looks pretty. Everything else takes away from its beauty and glamour.

What I like about this poem is that it doesn't have any structure. There's no rhyme scheme it has to follow, there's nothing really, except for the lines. Which goes further to prove Whitman's point. I don't see any of Whitman's poems having a very strict structure, which may be a way Whitman is trying to to prove his point.

She Walks In Beauty - Lord Byron

I loved dissecting this poem in class. It's such a simple, cute, pleasant poem, even if I don't understand everything. For example, I don't understand Line 7 "One shade the more, one ray the less." It almost seems like he's taking away everything he said in the first stanza. This class is turning me into a softie. I mean, do you remember how I absolutely loathed Shakespeare's Sonnet 18 because it was so sappy, but now I love these types of poems?

I love poets who make their poems huge metaphors and similes. Like the first stanza is all about the beauty compared to climate and weather. All these poets just love going back to nature to write their poems. I love nature, and so therefore I love these poems. However, it would be cool to see a poem written that isn't related back to nature, but something else perhaps. Like a modern day version of "She Walks In Beauty." I'd really be interested in seeing what that poem would entail.

Perhaps it is the wittiness of this poem...I'm not sure. I just know that I really like it. The word choice is fancy yet mellow so it doesn't seem too pretentious. The only thing that really bothers me is that Line 7. I really want to know what that means. Really.

Sonnet XXII - Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Ok I have to say, that out of the three other poems left for this week, it was really hard to choose one. Of course I'm going to take the easy way out ans choose the shorter one, but I feel that all three of the poems left for this week are extremely difficult. Maybe it's because I'm blonde and I really just don't get things the first, second, even third time reading it around. I'm going to use this journal entry to just sit here and rant for a while about how I hate when I'm in class and someone will take something from a poem and relate it to a historical event or famous piece of literature that I have no background on whatsoever. I mean, it's cool and all that these little hints of whatever the poet decided, are in the poem, but it's really frustrating to someone who just doesn't get it, or doesn't know. What I probably will do after writing this journal entry (as I don't want to hinder my thoughts and ideas) is go look online for a meaning of this poem, and when I find it out, I'm going to hit my head and say, "DUH! Why didn't I think of that?"

This is probably going to be completely wrong, as I'm probably reading over something very very important. But, what I see this as, is a fight between a couple, and there's that awkward silence between them after they fight. Or, maybe it's that awkward silence before you know a fight is going to erupt, because the topic has been talked about many times before, and you know that when you bring it up again, it'll just wreak havoc.

WAIT, I think I just got it. I think that what Browning is saying is that on Earth these fights and fires and chaos are allowed, but if they were up in heaven among the angels, the angels would press perfection upon the couple, so heaven isn't as great as it sounds, because you have to be happy and perfect all the time. There's no room for imperfection or fighting. So they should just stay here on Earth and deal with the imperfections, and deal with the darkness of Earth rather than having perfection shoved down their throats.

Maybe that's what this poem is about. Hopefully it is then, because I really like it if it is.

Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat - Thomas Gray

The title of this is what grabbed me at first - it should seem like it's going to be a sad poem. But this poem is hysterical! Of course, it's not a funny subject - I've lost two cats and I know how it is to lose a pet. But the way Gray writes this, it's almost like he's therapeutically making a mockery of the situation for his own benefit. He wants to remember the cat as the witty, funny kitty it was. I especially love the imagery he uses to describe this cat. He writes something that could be so cliche, but it isn't when he goes about it. Not only is the imagery of the cat astounding, but the way he describes the fish with "scaly armour"! Fish are seen to be so delicate, but here he turns them into a type of Hercules! It reminds me of Pinocchio, and how Figaro (the cat) would always annoy Cleo (the fish), but Figaro of course always lost to Cleo.

The thing I guess I love most about this poem, is that Gray makes such a comedy out of it. Instead of feeling the need to weep, I feel the need to laugh. He didn't make this poem serious, but he didn't want to. It seems like a good idea to use to get over a death; even if this wasn't his kitty, he still made it sound that way.

The Sick Rose - William Blake

This poem is so sad! I really feel at one with this poem because I always feel so sad when a bouquet of flowers dies....it's like they were cut just so I could watch them die. I almost hate getting flowers because I can't bear to watch them wilt and die. Of course the flowers I'm referring to always die from old age (yeah...1 or 2 weeks) but this rose was murdered! It of course, makes me dislike bugs even more. It reminds me of these birches we had at my old house that died because some bugs invaded them and started eating through the wood. It was the saddest thing ever when I had to watch my dad and my uncles cut the birches down, and then to look at their stumps filled with little holes of where the bugs attacked.

I do want to know why the worm Blake is referring to is invisible...does that mean that this worm is just hard to see, or is it supposed to be a metaphor for something? Can a worm be a synonym for bug, like a bug that makes you sick? Not an insect bug, but a viral bug, and maybe that's why the rose is sick?

I like the joyous crimson bed bit. Because a rose is crimson, but crimson also makes me think of blood. And if the bug Blake is referring to is of the insect variety then this crimson almost plays two parts. It's not only the color of the rose, but the blood of the rose which this bug has invaded.

The last two lines just totally blow me away though. "And his dark secret love / Does thy life destroy." Because sometimes in life, that's just how it is...somebody else's love for you can destroy you. What happens when this person's love is so deep and passionate, but you don't feel the same way, but since you feel so bad, you go along with it anyway, which kills you inside? Or the relationship is so bad but you don't want to end it and it just hurts more and more each day? Could this short 8 line poem be a metaphor for a relationship of Blake's? Oh poor poor William!