The road not taken
"The road not taken" by Robert Frost is one of the better known poems of Frost. The best lines are in the last stanza.The poem is about a traveller who came to a fork and chose a path and later is thinking about the path not taken.The last lines are the best part of the poem:
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Apparently the poet is not worried about the road not taken.What matters to him is the fact that an event had happened in time in which he arrived at the fork and took a decisive step towards taking the less travelled road and this fact made all the difference to him. Looked at this way ,the road not taken by him has become as much a part of history as the road travelled by .Had the poet not arrived here and confronted the possibility of taking the road which he would not take ,the event would not have happened in time.
On the left was the big town corpse now covered with hoar frost
"Not more than half
a mile in front of him the wretched little
district town in which his brother
had just been
tried lay outstretched on the
hill. On the right
was the dark prison with its
red roof and
sentry-boxes at the corners; on the
left was the big
town copse, now covered with hoar-frost."
http://www.shortstoryarchive.com/c/darkness.html
Does this sound like poetry ? Actually it has been taken from the short story "Darkness" by Anton Checkov. Almost poetry.
On the left was the big town corpse now covered with hoar-frost
This powerful story by Checkov moves one deeply-being about the supplication of a poor peasant to a doctor for the release of his brother who has been sentenced to undergo 3 years' confinement in a convict battalion for a minor offence. The darkness pervades everywhere in the prison,in the drunken break-in which has landed the poor peasant in jail,in the hearts of men who form the beureaucratic system where a poor man does not get justice.
The lines are pure poetry.
Ancient trees are butlers
"Slowly the evening changes into the clothes
held for it by a row of ancient trees;
you look: and two worlds grow separate from you,
one ascending to heaven, another, that falls;"
http://www.picture-poems.com/rilke/images.html
Rainier Maria Rilke translated by Cliff Crego
This image in Rilke's poem "Evening" fascinates me -especially the graphic image of the row of ancient trees holding the evening clothes ,butler-like ,for the evening to change into. We can almost visualize Jeeves performing his butler's duties for Bertie Wooster !
There is this poem
There is a poem
this wind is blowing
a bright and fluttering sheet.
Now asking; if they are shall it be?
And further then, now lowing
bolts of brazening beat
unmasking and unclothing we,
watching at our sewing
the cloth finely; to see
with corners that roam
with shells for making
purple and pearls and prosody.
-- Sebastian
http://www.unixchix.org/rubies/intrepiddreamer/index.html
I love the beginning : there is a poem....I would have begun it this way :there is this poem... .Well ,that is how he looks at it .He prefers it that way .Perhaps the poem is just a poem for him which the wind is blowing /A bright and fluttering sheet . Further down ,there is this interesting line:"to see/With corners that roam /with shells for making purple and pearls and prosody" . Exquisite lines these. Corners that roam with shells for making purple and pearls and prosody. These last lines are the corners and purple and pearls and prosody are made here.
My hands uncover the bodies of your body
"Touch " by Octavio Paz
My hands
open the curtains of your being
clothe you in a further nudity
uncover the bodies of your body
My hands
invent another body for your body
Translation by Eliot Weinberger
http://judithpordon.tripod.com/poetry/octavio_paz_touch.html
The magic of his touch is such that it transforms her being ,uncovering the bodies of her body. Her body is not a single entity but a multiple-layered existence containing several unexplored bodies within.Her physical being comes to light as his exploring hands remove the curtains thereby flooding her inner being with exquisite light. A new body is invented ,a new life comes into being
They trample the edges of the street
They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,
And along the trampled edges of the street
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
Sprouting despondently at area gates.
The brown waves of fog toss up to me
Twisted faces from the bottom of the street,
And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts
An aimless smile that hovers in the air
And vanishes along the level of the roofs.
(Morning at the window by T.S.Eliot)
“They are rattling breakfast plates” reminds you Eliot’s rattling bones references in The Waste Land .Eliot’s walkers have a unique way .They trample the edges of the street. And housemaids with “damp” souls suddenly sprout at the area gates .Their souls are damp and they sprout probably like lilacs April is breeding out of the dead land .And what does the brown fog ,again as in The Waste Land ,toss up to the poet looking through the window ? Only twisted faces from the bottom of the street and an aimless smile which hovers in the air and stops along the level of roofs.
The typical Eliot despondency comes through and the imagery remains much the same as in the Waste Land where the theme is dealt with in much more detail.
Her eyes are bullet holes filled with the hills and the sky
Arun Kolhatkar's poem "the Old Woman" is a pen sketch of an old woman who makes her living as a self-appointed tourist guide .The poet feels bothered by her when she pesters him for a fifty paise coin in return for showing him the horseshoe shrine.
You look right at the sky.
Clear through the bullet holes
she has for her eyes.
And as you look on,
the cracks that begin around her eyes
spread beyond her skin.
And the hills crack.
And the temples crack.
And the sky falls
With a plate-glass clatter
Around the shatterproof crone
who stands alone
And you are reduced
to so much small change
in her hand
http://www.geocities.com/kavitayan/arun_kolatkar.html
You look right at the sky
Clear through the bullet-holes
She has for eyes.
The old woman’s eyes are just two gaping holes filled with empty air,with the hills and the sky.Then the cracks begin around her eyes ,spreading beyond her skin and then the hills crack, the temples crack and the sky cracks and the the sky finally shatters and falls like plate-glass. The old woman herself is shatter-proof and nothing happens to her .Only you get instantly reduced to small change in her hand .It is you who shatter because her eyes are already bullet-holes which are formed with the cracks around the holes.
The beautiful moment that stays for ever
Rilke's You and you only exist is another breezy poem with absolutely no sombre tones.Like John Donne he talks about the impact of Time on human life,the transience of our existence and the beauty of a single moment .A sort of metaphysical poem of the modern times. The use of irony is devoid of bitterness but is marked by a quiet acceptance of the impermanence of the human existence.
“You only exist/We pass away,till at last/Our passing is so immense/that you arise :beautiful moment”- the contrast here is between our transient existence and the permanence of the beautiful moment. The paradox is amusing: while we pass away , the moment exists and our passing is so immense that a beautiful moment arises. Our semi-permanent(slightly longer) existence contrasts with the brevity of the beautiful moment ,which by its definition is only a moment but exists for all time to come.
“To the beautiful moment” the poet belongs ,however much time wears him away.He moves between one beautiful moment and another. Then come the most beautiful lines of Rilke one has ever come across :
“…In between
The garland is hanging in chance: but if you
take it up and up:look:
all becomes festival!”
In between the beautiful moments,the garland is hanging in chance and it is up to you to take it up and up so that it becomes a festival. It is a matter of chance that you pick some precious moments filled with happiness and if you can do it , happiness is all yours. One of the most optimistic poems of Rilke .
.
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/you-you-only-exist
