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

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Poetry: Take Three

The City in the Sea
by Edgar Allan Poe

Lo! Death has reared himself a throne
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the dim West,
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest.
There shrines and palaces and towers
(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)
Resemble nothing that is ours.
Around, by lifting winds forgot,
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters he.

No rays from the holy heaven come down
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently-
Gleams up the pinnacles far and free-
Up domes- up spires- up kingly halls-
Up fanes- up Babylon-like walls-
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers-
Up many and many a marvellous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
So blend the turrets and shadows there
That all seem pendulous in air,
While from a proud tower in the town
Death looks gigantically down.

There open fanes and gaping graves
Yawn level with the luminous waves;
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol's diamond eye-
Not the gaily-jewelled dead
Tempt the waters from their bed;
For no ripples curl, alas!
Along that wilderness of glass-
No swellings tell that winds may be
Upon some far-off happier sea-
No heavings hint that winds have been
On seas less hideously serene.

But lo, a stir is in the air!
The wave- there is a movement there!
As if the towers had thrust aside,
In slightly sinking, the dull tide-
As if their tops had feebly given
A void within the filmy Heaven.
The waves have now a redder glow-
The hours are breathing faint and low-
And when, amid no earthly moans,
Down, down that town shall settle hence,
Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,
Shall do it reverence.

Poe is pretty much my favorite early American writer. I love his stories, and I love his poems. Part of it is the dark, gothic style. Part of it is something I can't explain. But I chose this poem, mostly because of all of them, it paints such a vivid picture. The imagery amazes me. And with something this long, the meanings/interpretations are many. Every time I read it, I feel like I'm peeling back a new layer, revealing a way to look at it that I never knew before. Hope you enjoyed it too!

Friday, April 18, 2008

Springtime Musing

I didn't post up my poem for last Sunday, so I'm doing it today. (Yes, that's really how far behind I am.)

Anyway, this is one of my old-time favorite poems. I really love Robert Frost. I think it's because he doesn't try to do anything complicated. He was one of the first poets I read, and even at nine/ten years old, I could understand.

Nothing Gold Can Stay
By Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

The classical interpretation of this poem is that it is an eloquent metaphor for the rise and fall of mankind. I think it could be seen that way, but mean so many other things too.

It always comes to mind the first time I feel my surrounding emerging from the winter - the first time it 'feels' like spring. It captures that first zing of excitement that races through your blood when you realize the season has changed.

To me, it's also a metaphor for life. Natures first green equates to youth. Youth is golden, new, shining with possibilities. And of course, the inevitable disillusionment that accompanies age and experience, sometimes even giving way to a pessimistic, or 'grieving' attitude towards life. And the poem almost laments how sad it is that we cannot hold on to that 'golden' outlook.

Frost also has a wonderful grasp and conveyance of the 'circle of life' in this poem. He paints a picture of one revolution of the cycle - the first green, then the leafing, then flowering; the dawn giving way to day.

What other meanings do you take away from it?

Sunday, April 6, 2008

Bell, Book, and Candle

I decided to give myself a break and try something different for the month of April. Every Sunday this month I will post a snip of verse for you here, in honor of National Poetry Month.

These are technically lyrics*, but you say tomato, I say tomatoe. It's a lovely piece, and I urge you to listen to the song, by Eddie Reader:

Photo by KevLewis
Bell, Book, and Candle
The blue around the morning moon,
The colour of your eyes.
I remember holding you,
Fall through summer skies.
You're everything that I've become, every word I say.
I need a bell, book and candle to keep your ghost away.

White horses on a troubled sea,
Your smile will flash through time.
Up ahead a blackbird's wing,
Your hair will come to mind.
Every night I see your face when I have to pray.
I need a bell, book and candle to keep your ghost away.

Just before the thunder roars,
I sense you next to me.
And as I move through nature,
I know where you will be.
So I must keep myself apart, here is where I'll stay.
With a bell, book and candle to keep your ghost away.

*Chorus removed, verses run together here.