Poem of the Week '10

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Originally Posted by OrphanPip

Maybe not birth, but a new start?

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Yes, I agree that "First Things" do imply new beginnings but I was wondering if it was possible to find equivalents of "Last Things" (ie "death, judgement, heaven, and hell").

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I take the first line, "I thought I was growing wings," to feed into an image of a winged spirit or the like. But she's playing off of the image of a caterpillar growing wings in a cocoon.

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My interpretation of "growing wings" and "cocoon" is that even though there was an expectation to turn into a butterfly (something beautiful and independent -because it can fly?), there was only a cocoon (a hollow shell, a burden), that limits movement and freedom maybe? Also, a cocoon that does not lead to wings must be such a disappointment.

I am not comfortable with the "stepping into the fire" and "deep water" imagery... Does that mean the persona expected to face up to some challenges but they proved too much (drowned?)?

Is it the poem urging us not to concentrate on the end results at the end of our lives but celebrate the achievements or, more explicitly, the beginnings we bring about?

I read the wings and fire as either flying up or falling down to Heaven or Hell. The cocoon seems to stifle and trap the freedom of wings to fly, in the same way as the deep water stifles the image of the flames. This seems to clash with the idea of death, for in the poem I see the idea of dying as a process of seeing thing anew ie dying to the past. And perhaps the cocoon and deep water could picture returning to the womb and living the life anew? Or reincarnation perhaps?


I think there is a significance to the fact that just after 'First Things' there is 'Word after Word', as in the beginning was the word, and that things are not ending but life is coming anew, or there is the freedom to reconceptualize everything in the present. The writer's past is seen again in the new light of the present, and so it is no longer something negative and dead. It also rejects the negative conception of the world presented by the news media perhaps, that things are moving to death and that all news is bad news, and that she is no longer young, for she says 'that's not it' later on in the poem.

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Originally Posted by Scheherazade

Yes, I agree that "First Things" do imply new beginnings but I was wondering if it was possible to find equivalents of "Last Things" (ie "death, judgement, heaven, and hell").

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My theological knowledge is fairly limited, so I have no idea, maybe Virgil could enlighten us. Although, Silas does bring up the obvious, though I missed it, allusion to Genesis in "Word after word," the "First Things" could also be a reference to those opening lines of Genesis.

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Originally Posted by Scheherazade

My interpretation of "growing wings" and "cocoon" is that even though there was an expectation to turn into a butterfly (something beautiful and independent -because it can fly?), there was only a cocoon (a hollow shell, a burden), that limits movement and freedom maybe? Also, a cocoon that does not lead to wings must be such a disappointment.

I am not comfortable with the "stepping into the fire" and "deep water" imagery... Does that mean the persona expected to face up to some challenges but they proved too much (drowned?)?

Is it the poem urging us not to concentrate on the end results at the end of our lives but celebrate the achievements or, more explicitly, the beginnings we bring about?

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I think it's entirely possible, but I'm leaning a bit more towards them being an invocation of heaven or hell (as Silas said). There's a disappointment of expectations occurring, though I'm not sure if the cocoon and water convery something negative or positive.

I think there may something in your conclusion. Though, I think what's occurring here is more of a retrospective inspection of past events, the mirror is reflecting the speaker after all. The speaker expected certain things, and they didn't occur. And then the speaker seems to paint a miserable picture of how the world is, but then contradicts that misery. I don't think it's just about celebrating our achievements, but re-examining and reinventing our perceptions of the past and the world around us. The last stanza gives me the most trouble, as I'm not exactly sure how to take those words, other than as a Biblical allusion.

I'm not going to reply individually, but here are my thoughts.

First Levertov is a poet who in mid to late life did have a spiritual conversion and wrote a good deal of religious poetry afterward, though I wouldn't say exclusively so. This poem I found was written in 1984, right around that spiritual conversion.

The poem is about a transition, either into a coming death (she would have been entering her sixties when this was written), or into her new spiritual mindset, or both. Growing wings from a cocoon is almost a cliche for a transition.

Fire is a purgation (purification, or the burning off of the old) while water is a baptism, an acceptance into the new, which are similar in some respect, but the water is so much more gentle.

Eschatology is what she says it is, the study of the end of things, but it will be seen as ironic in the sense that this is a new beginning, whether she's talking about her death or her new life.

Facing the mirror she sees what the title refers to, "the moment," presumably first of death and then the life she now believes beyond. "Word after word" is an interesting pun. She is a poet and now she has new themes to write about, but the Word is a reference to Christ, who is referred to as the Word.

A nice poem. I have no idea what the dog reference is about.

Especially after reading Virgil's brief background information on the poet, I agree that there is a religious significance to the poem. I wonder, after experiencing some kind of spritual awakening, if the persona feels that all is not in vain and what seems to be the end (death) is actually a beginning (afterlife and all)?

So, any comments on "the dogs"?

Perhaps the dogs in the neighborhood are disturbed from their sleep because of the wailing of the sirens of police and ambulances, due to violence and death in the speaker's area. That may link with the lines of 'the news, always of death'. The dogs may also howl because of death, or because they see death coming.
I can't help feeling that the water and the cocoon refer to the protection of the womb.

The dogs remimded me of the "dogs of war" - the ageing process - the body at war with itself - the reflection providing the sudden evidence of ageing and mortality to which it is referring.

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Originally Posted by Scheherazade

Especially after reading Virgil's brief background information on the poet, I agree that there is a religious significance to the poem. I wonder, after experiencing some kind of spritual awakening, if the persona feels that all is not in vain and what seems to be the end (death) is actually a beginning (afterlife and all)?

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Yes I agree.

When I read the section about the dogs it reminded my of mythology, the idea of hell's hounds. It was presumed that you heard them howling before you died, they were hunting after souls to feed on and send to Hades.....maybe it is just another reference to the end (namely death and specifically what comes after)?

I view the poem as the cycles we go through in our experiences. “I thought it was time to grow wings -- It was a cocoon” We dive into new fields of study, work or social groups, expecting the flamboyant fun and challenges, but then we realize there is always a lot to learn, just as the caterpillar needs to remain in the cocoon for so long before it can fly. We often misjudge and take offence, when in fact we’re just stepping into water; we’re not being burned. We feel like children having to learn complicated new words, even though we are old in the mirror. After the honeymoon, there is always disappointment, the novelty wears off and we face problem after problem, sometimes it feels like death and howling, noisy dogs. But, that’s not it. There is a wonder in life, which makes us want to do it all over again when the struggle is at an end, because after the word flows through the glass towards me I have grown as a person.

Sorry I've been really busy of late. I'd read the poems, but not had much time to post.

I agree with what is said about the poem, in regards to viewing death as a potential new beginning and the obvious religious significance of that. I can't help but thinking however, that there are a few terms that aren't particularly fresh - it doesn't seem a very original piece and the ending for me seems a little abrupt.

I thought I was growing wings—
it was a cocoon.

I thought, now is the time to step
into the fire—
it was deep water.

I see this as representing worldly pursuits - that they are deceptive. Wings - freedom?
Fire - intoxication/ passion/ emotion

Both of these stifled by the reality represented by the water and cocoon.
I agree with the religious symbolism, a reflection upon a life, and a new start - religious and also poetic.

Incidentlly, I like the word eschatology - I used to keep a tally of how many times one of my lecturers used to use it - well, overuse it.

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Originally Posted by Neely

Sorry I've been really busy of late. I'd read the poems, but not had much time to post.

I agree with what is said about the poem, in regards to viewing death as a potential new beginning and the obvious religious significance of that. I can't help but thinking however, that there are a few terms that aren't particularly fresh - it doesn't seem a very original piece and the ending for me seems a little abrupt.

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I agree it's not particularly fresh in places. It does start with a cliche. I happen to like the ending. I think that's the most original part of the poem:

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Word after word
floats through the glass.
Towards me.

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As too abrubt, what else did you feel she needed to say? She's capturing a moment facing a mirror and looking into her life and beyond.

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Originally Posted by Paulclem

Incidentlly, I like the word eschatology - I used to keep a tally of how many times one of my lecturers used to use it - well, overuse it.

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Really? What kind of classes were they? Maybe the teacher was implying the end of your school, like failing out. :wink5:

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Originally Posted by Virgil

I agree it's not particularly fresh in places. It does start with a cliche. I happen to like the ending. I think that's the most original part of the poem:

As too abrubt, what else did you feel she needed to say? She's capturing a moment facing a mirror and looking into her life and beyond.


Really? What kind of classes were they? Maybe the teacher was implying the end of your school, like failing out. :wink5:

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I like the ending too.

He was a lecturer in The new testament. It was part of my Englsh Literature and Religion Combined Arts Degree. It was a great course. He may well have been looking at me too!

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As too abrubt, what else did you feel she needed to say? She's capturing a moment facing a mirror and looking into her life and beyond.

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Hmm, maybe, maybe it was just the way I read it at the time?

New poem then?

I'll stick something up shortly if that is OK?

OK, how about "The Thought Fox" by Ted Hughes?
http://www.poemhunter.com/best-poems...e-thought-fox/

The Thought-Fox

I imagine this midnight moment's forest:
Something else is alive
Beside the clock's loneliness
And this blank page where my fingers move.

Through the window I see no star:
Something more near
Though deeper within darkness
Is entering the loneliness:

Cold, delicately as the dark snow
A fox's nose touches twig, leaf;
Two eyes serve a movement, that now
And again now, and now, and now

Sets neat prints into the snow
Between trees, and warily a lame
Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
Of a body that is bold to come

Across clearings, an eye,
A widening deepening greenness,
Brilliantly, concentratedly,
Coming about its own business

Till, with a sudden sharp hot stink of fox
It enters the dark hole of the head.
The window is starless still; the clock ticks,
The page is printed.

A brilliant poem about poetic inspiration. I read this first whilst doing my A'Levels, and it stayed with me until I came back to it years later.

I like the fox as a metaphor for inspiration - that seems to have a life of its own within the poet's own head. It hints at some nature muse that may or not appear. Apparently Hughes had had writer's block and this poem broke it.

Oh I have really grown to admire Ted Hughes. I can't help but feel that D.H. Lawrence would have loved Hughes's work. This is not complicated, but it's nicely done. This really grabs me: "Till, with a sudden sharp hot stink of fox/It enters the dark hole of the head." That phrasing "of fox" is brilliant because the "real" fox has morphed into the poetic inspiriation.

I've not read that much of Hughes, but I think I might have to read a few this week - Hughes week?! It's interested how he uses animal metaphors within his work like with the crow, the fox here etc. I really get the quietness in this poem, perhaps because he references the clock twice which gives this poem its sense of peace. The fox is brilliantly drawn too: "A fox's nose touches twig, leaf;/Two eyes serve a movement, that now/And again now, and now, and now". I like the sense of movement which contrasts with the inner peace and calm of the figure inside. More to come at a later stage.

An interesting poem and I like the imagery provided.

How do you interpret these lines?

Sets neat prints into the snow
Between trees, and warily a lame
Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
Of a body that is bold to come

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Originally Posted by Scheherazade

An interesting poem and I like the imagery provided.

How do you interpret these lines?

Sets neat prints into the snow
Between trees, and warily a lame
Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
Of a body that is bold to come

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I just take them at face value as a description of the fox's shadow moving behind him as it moves across a clearing. I'm not sure how to take the shadow being lame, while the body is bold. It kind of imbues the fox with an ethereal quality. I get a sense that when we are first introduced to the fox, it has a very physical presence, which I think derives from that immediate description of the "now, and now, and now." It then becomes gradually more ethereal, until it is but a sensation, as it becomes a stink of fox.

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Originally Posted by Scheherazade

An interesting poem and I like the imagery provided.

How do you interpret these lines?

Sets neat prints into the snow
Between trees, and warily a lame
Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
Of a body that is bold to come

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There's an intermingling of the idea of a real fox, and inspiration . I think - as the poem is about inspiration - the prints in the snow could be the writing on the page which is complete by the end of the epiphany. His fingers are moving on a blank page.

I imagine this midnight moment's forest:
Something else is alive
Beside the clock's loneliness
And this blank page where my fingers move.

The midnight moment's forest is in his imagination, but there's something else separate that enters - the fox. I think the fox is a great metaphor for inspiration - they are secretive, nocturnal - it's set at night, shy, and they don't - as Hughes has been experiencing - turn up when you want them to.

I think it is something that can be understood pretty literally. I understood the visual image as the path the "inspiration" takes as it is born into reality.

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Originally Posted by Scheherazade

An interesting poem and I like the imagery provided.

How do you interpret these lines?

Sets neat prints into the snow
Between trees, and warily a lame
Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
Of a body that is bold to come

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I was going to respond, but then I saw Paul's response. I think he got it just right.

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Originally Posted by Paulclem

The midnight moment's forest is in his imagination, but there's something else separate that enters - the fox. I think the fox is a great metaphor for inspiration - they are secretive, nocturnal - it's set at night, shy, and they don't - as Hughes has been experiencing - turn up when you want them to.

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Good point there, very interesting. I'm going to read a little Hughes today, I'm especially interested in his use of animal metaphors, think I'm going to read a few of the crow poems - wonder how they differ or are similar to the fox here?

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Originally Posted by Paulclem

There's an intermingling of the idea of a real fox, and inspiration . I think - as the poem is about inspiration - the prints in the snow could be the writing on the page which is complete by the end of the epiphany. His fingers are moving on a blank page.

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I also think the snow and prints can be a refence to the writing on a page.

Do you think "lame shadow" is his work in progress? In its "hollow body", something "bold" is developing?

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Originally Posted by Neely

Good point there, very interesting. I'm going to read a little Hughes today, I'm especially interested in his use of animal metaphors, think I'm going to read a few of the crow poems - wonder how they differ or are similar to the fox here?

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Well I think that was a bit of an ambitious aim really, flicking through his collection (which I haven't looked at for a few years) his work is crammed full of animal metaphor of all description! (What's that crow all about, strange but interesting?)

Just to bring the poem back up again.

The Thought-Fox

I imagine this midnight moment's forest:
Something else is alive
Beside the clock's loneliness
And this blank page where my fingers move.

Through the window I see no star:
Something more near
Though deeper within darkness
Is entering the loneliness:

Cold, delicately as the dark snow
A fox's nose touches twig, leaf;
Two eyes serve a movement, that now
And again now, and now, and now

Sets neat prints into the snow
Between trees, and warily a lame
Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
Of a body that is bold to come

Across clearings, an eye,
A widening deepening greenness,
Brilliantly, concentratedly,
Coming about its own business

Till, with a sudden sharp hot stink of fox
It enters the dark hole of the head.
The window is starless still; the clock ticks,
The page is printed.

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Originally Posted by Scheherazade

I also think the snow and prints can be a refence to the writing on a page.

Do you think "lame shadow" is his work in progress? In its "hollow body", something "bold" is developing?

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It could well be - I hadn't thought of that.

Through the window I see no star:
Something more near
Though deeper within darkness
Is entering the loneliness:

This is an interesting stanza.

Is Hughes saying something about the nature of poetic inspiration in his view? I haven't read an awful lot of his stuff, but I remember someone on a documentary saying the focus upon animals and birds has a shamanistic quality. Perhaps he means nearer - earthier than a star.

On the star - it did remind me of the star of Bethlehem. Is he saying he's a shaman rather than a follower of christ?

Sorry to jump in leaving questions unanswered, (though maybe that is a good thing too for poetry sometimes :)) as I've decided to put a poem on here for discussion. As I'm not sure how much of it will get through the censors, here's a link to the unedited version:
http://ethnicity.rutgers.edu/~jlynch...imperfect.html

'The Imperfect Enjoyment' by John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester

Naked she lay, clasped in my longing arms,
I filled with love, and she all over charms;
Both equally inspired with eager fire,
Melting through kindness, flaming in desire.
With arms, legs, lips close clinging to embrace, [5]
She clips me to her breast, and sucks me to her face.
Her nimble tongue, Love's lesser lightening, played
Within my mouth, and to my thoughts conveyed
Swift orders that I should prepare to throw
The all-dissolving thunderbolt below. [10]
My fluttering soul, sprung with the painted kiss,
Hangs hovering o'er her balmy brinks of bliss.
But whilst her busy hand would guide that part
Which should convey my soul up to her heart,
In liquid raptures I dissolve all o'er, [15]
Melt into sperm, and spend at every pore.
A touch from any part of her had done't:
Her hand, her foot, her very look's a ****.

Smiling, she chides in a kind murmuring noise,
And from her body wipes the clammy joys, [20]
When, with a thousand kisses wandering o'er
My panting bosom, "Is there then no more?"
She cries. "All this to love and rapture's due;
Must we not pay a debt to pleasure too?"

But I, the most forlorn, lost man alive, [25]
To show my wished obedience vainly strive:
I sigh, alas! and kiss, but cannot swive.
Eager desires confound my first intent,
Succeeding shame does more success prevent,
And rage at last confirms me impotent. [30]
Ev'n her fair hand, which might bid heat return
To frozen age, and make cold hermits burn,
Applied to my dead cinder, warms no more
Than fire to ashes could past flames restore.
Trembling, confused, despairing, limber, dry, [35]
A wishing, weak, unmoving lump I lie.
This dart of love, whose piercing point, oft tried,
With virgin blood ten thousand maids have dyed;
Which nature still directed with such art
That it through every **** reached every heart — [40]
Stiffly resolved, 'twould carelessly invade
Woman or man, nor aught its fury stayed:
Where'er it pierced, a **** it found or made —
Now languid lies in this unhappy hour,
Shrunk up and sapless like a withered flower. [45]

Thou treacherous, base deserter of my flame,
False to my passion, fatal to my fame,
Through what mistaken magic dost thou prove
So true to lewdness, so untrue to love?
What oyster-cinder-beggar-common whore [50]
Didst thou e'er fail in all thy life before?
When vice, disease, and scandal lead the way,
With what officious haste dost thou obey!
Like a rude, roaring hector in the streets
Who scuffles, cuffs, and justles all he meets, [55]
But if his king or country claim his aid,
The rakehell villain shrinks and hides his head;
Ev'n so thy brutal valour is displayed,
Breaks every stew, does each small whore invade,
But when great Love the onset does command, [60]
Base recreant to thy prince, thou dar'st not stand.
Worst part of me, and henceforth hated most,
Through all the town a common ****ing-post,
On whom each whore relieves her tingling ****
As hogs do rub themselves on gates and grunt, [65]
May'st thou to ravenous chancres be a prey,
Or in consuming weepings waste away;
May strangury and stone thy days attend;
May'st thou ne'er piss, who did refuse to spend
When all my joys did on false thee depend. [70]

And may ten thousand abler pricks agree
To do the wronged Corinna right for thee.

Note: Actually a lot of offensive words did get through. The stars are mostly for the C word, which is probably the most offensive single word in English today.

Bravo! I really like this poem Silas. How effectively he portrays the self flogging man must give himself in more ways than one to perform when it matters to him most!

Rochester's a funny poet. You got to love how he so effortlessly moves from that elevated classical tone into the vulgarity of self-chastisement, it emphasizes that disappointment so very much.

Aphra Behn wrote a poem of similar topic but from the women's perspective, http://www.poetry-archive.com/b/the_disappointment.html

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Originally Posted by OrphanPip

Rochester's a funny poet. You got to love how he so effortlessly moves from that elevated classical tone into the vulgarity of self-chastisement, it emphasizes that disappointment so very much.

Aphra Behn wrote a poem of similar topic but from the women's perspective, http://www.poetry-archive.com/b/the_disappointment.html

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I didn't know about the Aphra Behn one. Thanks!

But he doesn't just chastise himself does he? Though the speaker turns himself into no more than a static sex-toy in his own mind he also turns all the prostitutes he has been with into filthy pigs, abusing and dehumanising them in the process (lines 63-5).

I love how he personifies little John though.

Now I need to go take a cold shower. :D

I've always admired the beauty of the presentation of his words in the first two stanzas here, and the vehemence of his abuse later on in the poem.
I feel that that 'cinder' and 'flame' in line 33 reminds me of Shakespeare's sonnet 73 a little.
Any more thoughts?

I'm not familiar with this poet and poem Silas. Where is he from and when was this written?

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Originally Posted by Virgil

I'm not familiar with this poet and poem Silas. Where is he from and when was this written?

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He was a libertine poet, and courtier of Charles the II, during the Restoration.

"Love a woman? You're an ***.
'Tis a most insipid passion
To choose out for your happiness
The idlest part of God's creation.

Let the porter and the groom,
Things designed for dirty slaves,
Drudge in fair Aurelia's womb
To get supplies for age and graves.

Farewell, woman! I intend
Henceforth every night to sit
With my lewd, well-natured friend,
Drinking to engender wit.

Then give me health, wealth, mirth, and wine,
And if busy Love intrenches,
There's a sweet, soft page of mine
Does the trick worth forty wenches."

It just drips aristocratic self-entitlement and recently imported French libertine values.

Here's a few links about Rochester:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Wi...l_of_Rochester
http://www.luminarium.org/eightlit/rochester/
http://www.buzzle.com/articles/earl-...hn-wilmot.html


He was a very interesting individual of his time. I remember once reading his life story, which I enjoyed a great deal. He didn't only write poetry like the one I have put on here, and wrote some incredible satirical pieces, such as 'A Satyre Against Reason and Mankind', as well as some very touching love poems, such as 'A Song of a Young Lady to her Ancient Lover', and 'The Mistress'.

I truly laughed as I read my way through this poem.

"When vice, disease, and scandal lead the way,
With what officious haste dost thou obey."

These are great lines!

Thanks for sharing Sylas.

It is nice to see poetry written so well about such a pornographic topic.

Thanks for giving your opinion on the poem. I think it's mainly due to the quality of his poetic expression that he could get away with what other people couldn't.

Surprisingly, I have heard of him before. I know OrphanPip mentioned Rochester was a libertine poet. I suppose that this kind of "talent" brought him quite a bit of exposure. I can imagine all the ladies in their closets giggling as they read this piece.