The Diary Of A Nobody

E23: Lines For Winter - Mark Strand

Mark Strand - Lines For Winter
 
Written/Published: 1979, Selected Poems
Theme: "The echo of “as it gets cold” implies the language could be seen as appealing to readers for separate stages of understanding, not just the physical “cold” of winter, but also the coldness that comes with loss of emotion and possibly death, or at least accompanying the sober recognition of one’s own mortality. Surely, images of winter or night frequently signal acknowledgement of one’s mortality and the “gray” in line two hints at a common sign of ageing. Even the poem’s title, “Lines of Winter,” may be seen as reference to later life’s facial lines, those wrinkles gained through age and experience, particularly for anyone who has endured a history of painful events." (Edward Byrne, 2008)
Poem:
Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself—
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon's gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back
and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.
 
Credits: Mark Strand Selected Poems 1979 / Edward Byrne 2008

E22: The City in the Sea - Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe - The City in the Sea
 
Published: 1831
Theme: 
The poem takes the reader through Death’s city. He rules this place from a throne and towers over it “gigantically”. The city is lit by nothing but the light from the sea. By following its progression a reader can see the towers, palaces, friezes, and spires that fill the city-scape. Towards the end of the poem, a change comes over the usually very still ocean. It starts to move, as does the city itself. The city sinks, slowly, down into the water, consumed by its shiny surface. This dark place is compared to a more terrible version of hell in the last lines. A place that hell would worship. (PoemAnalysis.com (2022)
Poem:
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 lie. 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.
 
Credits: Edgar Allan Poe (1831), PoemAnalysis.com (2022)

E21: All Is Vanity, Saith the Preacher - Lord Byron

Lord Byron - All Is Vanity, Saith the Preacher
 
Written/Published in: Hebrew Melodies nr. 21 1815
Theme: Lord Byron’s poem is inspired by the Book of Qohelet. He transfers Qohelet’s feeling of life into a psalm, thereby condensing the Biblical material in his own way. He makes Qohelet, whom he conventionally identifies with King Solomon, look back at the happy times in his life. He interprets the Preacher’s resignation and depression by introducing the serpent from Genesis 3; this aspect helps to generalize Qohelet‘s pessimistic outlook on human life. Zsengellér, J. 2022. Understanding Texts in Early Judaism: Studies on Biblical, Qumranic, Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature in Memory of Géza Xeravits. Berlin, Boston: De Gruyter. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110768534
Poem:
I.Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine,And health and youth possess'd me;My goblets blush'd from every vine,And lovely forms caress'd me;I sunn'd my heart in beauty's eyes,And felt my soul grow tender:All earth can give, or mortal prize,Was mine of regal splendour.II.I strive to number o'er what daysRemembrance can discover,Which all that life or earth displaysWould lure me to live over.There rose no day, there roll'd no hourOf pleasure unembitter'd;And not a trapping deck'd my powerThat gall'd not while it glitter'd.III.The serpent of the field, by artAnd spells, is won from harming;But that which coils around the heart,Oh! who hath pwer of charming?It will not list to wisdom's lore,Nor music's voice can lure it;But there it stings for evermoreThe soul that must endure it.
 
Credits: Lord Byron 1815, József Zsengellér 2022

E20: The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost

Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken
 
Published: 1915
Theme: 
"Robert Frost’s poem “The Road Not Taken” is often interpreted as an anthem of individualism and nonconformity, seemingly encouraging readers to take the road less traveled. This interpretation has long been propagated through countless song lyrics, newspaper columns, and graduation speeches. But as Frost liked to warn his listeners, “You have to be careful of that one; it’s a tricky poem—very tricky.” In actuality, the two roads diverging in a yellow wood are “really about the same,” according to Frost, and are equally traveled and quite interchangeable." (theatlantic.com, 2018)
 
Poem:
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
 
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
 
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
 
I shall be telling this with a sigh
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.
 
Credits: Robert Frost (1915), The Atlantic (2018)

E19: Crossroads - Don McLean (Cover)

Don McLean - Crossroads (Song) 
 
Written/Released: 1971
Album: American Pie
Theme & Story: "I think this line is the essence of the pop ballad; the sense of regret, the wish to turn back time, the fear of the road lying ahead. Textually, the song is about a man who returns to a long lost love and begs for salvation. But that’s far too linear interpretation. I read the entire second verse in a far more spiritual way. Hope and salvation lie with anything that will join you on the inevitable journey of life. But it doesn’t necessarily have to be a person – it can be an idea, a thought, an emotion and even an absence. Sometimes absences are stronger than presences. “But there’s no need for turning back, ’cause all the roads lead to where I stand.”" (inartematt.com,2019) 
 
Lyrics:
I've got nothing on my mind,Nothing to remember,Nothing to forget.And I've got nothing to regret.But I'm all tied up on the inside,No one knows quite what I've got,And I know that on the outsideWhat I used to beI'm notanymore.You know I've heard about people like meBut I never made the connection.They walk one road to set them freeAnd find they've gone the wrong direction.But there's no need for turning backCause all roads lead to where I stand;And I believe I'll walk them allNo matter what I may have planned.Can you remember who I was?Can you still feel it?Can you find my pain?Can you heal it?Then lay your hands upon me nowAnd cast this darkness from my soul.You alone can light my way.You alone can make me wholeOnce again.We've walked both sides of every streetThrough all kinds of windy weather;But that was never our defeatAs long as we could walk together.So there's no need for turning backCause all roads lead to where we stand;And I believe we'll walk them allNo matter what we may have planned.
 
Listen to the original song by Don McLean HERE
Credits: Don McLean, 1971, American Pie

E18: Songs of Kabir (6, 9) - Kabir Das

Kabir Das - Songs of Kabir (songs 6 and 9)
Written: 1398 - 1518
Published: One Hundred Poems of Kabir 1915
Translated: Rabindranath Tagore
Theme: 
The songs of Kabir by Tagore represent both the philosophies of Hinduism and Sufism. It is a seamless, luminous setting of Kabir 's beloved prayer, offering praise to a holy spirit, universal and personal, both in this world and beyond. (Brainly.in, 2022)
 
Songs:
Song 6 
I.83 candā jhalkai yahi ghat māhīn 
The moon shines in my body, but my blind eyes cannot see it: The moon is within me, and so is the sun.
The unstruck drum of Eternity is sounded within me; but my deaf ears cannot hear it. 
So long as man clamours for the I and the Mine, his works are as naught:
When all love of the I and the Mine is dead, then the work of the Lord is done.
For work has no other aim than the getting of knowledge:
When that comes, then work is put away. 
The flower blooms for the fruit: when the fruit comes, the flower withers.
The musk is in the deer, but it seeks it not within itself: it wanders in quest of grass. 
 
Song 9 
I.104 aisā lo nahīn taisā lo 
O How may I ever express that secret word?
O how can I say He is not like this, and He is like that?
If I say that He is within me, the universe is ashamed:
If I say that He is without me, it is falsehood.
He makes the inner and the outer worlds to be indivisibly one;
The conscious and the unconscious, both are His footstools.
He is neither manifest nor hidden, He is neither revealed nor unrevealed:
There are no words to tell that which He is.
 
Credits: Songs of Kabir. Authored by: Kabir Das (Trans. by Rabindranath Tagore). 
 

E17: Roll The Dice - Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski - Roll The Dice
Written: ca. 1970-1990
Published in: What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through the Fire (1999)
Theme:
“Roll the Dice” by Charles Bukowski is one of the most motivational poems in American History. During the 1950-60s people were headed on the path of being different. Whether that meant listening to different music or growing long hair, each poem is telling the people that if you are going to do something go all the way, or else there is no point in doing it. Being different is something that can not be done if you are not willing to go all the way. Bukowski makes a strong statement by saying “do it, do it, do it. do it.” This is one of the most powerful quotes from the poem, that showed people not to have fear, and to take the risk." (grade10americanpoetry.com, 2022)
 
Poem:
if you’re going to try, go all theway.otherwise, don’t even start.
if you’re going to try, go all theway.this could mean losing girlfriends,wives, relatives, jobs andmaybe your mind.
go all the way.it could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days.it could mean freezing on apark bench.it could mean jail,it could mean derision,mockery,isolation.isolation is the gift,all the others are a test of yourendurance, ofhow much you really want todo it.and you’ll do itdespite rejection and the worst oddsand it will be better thananything elseyou can imagine.
if you’re going to try,go all the way.there is no other feeling likethat.you will be alone with the godsand the nights will flame withfire.
do it, do it, do it.do it.
all the wayall the way.
you will ride life straight toperfect laughter, itsthe only good fightthere is.
 
Credits: Charles Bukowski, 1999 What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through the Fire

E16: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou - I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
 
Published: 1969, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
Themes: 
"Strong themes are present throughout "Caged Bird." Racist oppression, freedom against captivity, and joy versus grief are examples of themes. Through the picture of the two birds, one free and one imprisoned, Angelou weaves together all of these concepts in "Caged Bird." 
The caged bird is an extended metaphor for the Black community in America and across the world. Angelou references the oppressive practices used by individuals in positions of authority, including physical, mental, and economic violence, that have affected millions of men, women, and children since the dawn of time. 
Black men, women, and children see “through…bars” while the free bird sores in the sky. The bird sings from a place of sadness rather than joy to convey a broader history of sorrow." (source: poemanalysis.com, 2022)
 
Poem: 
A free bird leapson the back of the wind   and floats downstream   till the current endsand dips his wingin the orange sun raysand dares to claim the sky.
 
But a bird that stalksdown his narrow cagecan seldom see throughhis bars of ragehis wings are clipped and   his feet are tiedso he opens his throat to sing.
 
The caged bird sings   with a fearful trill   of things unknown   but longed for still   and his tune is heard   on the distant hill   for the caged bird   sings of freedom.
 
The free bird thinks of another breezeand the trade winds soft through the sighing treesand the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawnand he names the sky his own.
 
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams   his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream   his wings are clipped and his feet are tied   so he opens his throat to sing.
 
The caged bird sings   with a fearful trill   of things unknown   but longed for still   and his tune is heard   on the distant hill   for the caged bird   sings of freedom.
 
Credits: Angelou, Maya (1969). I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. New York: Random House

E15: The War - Dragos Radu

Dragos Radu - The War
 
Written: 2022
 
Summary & Story:
Sometimes, we are all fighting a war. A war can -internally speaking- seem, at times, catastrophically never-ending. The warrior portrays an image where each of us has found ourselves at a point where an inevitable change must happen. A point where one has to be reborn and rise from the ashes. The warrior reflects that point. The horse, or the mind, a dear companion, follows in the dark. Through the tears, he tries to evade this change, yet, that is not always possible, if at all. The eagle depicts the act of transformation. The change that is thirsty for our blood -experience- and only through blood can the eagle turn into a dove -rebirth-. I hope you enjoy this poem as much as I enjoyed writing it for you.
 
Poem:
The war is over
The iron skies now cracked, and rays of sun overwhelm the field
that was once covered in daffodils.
A small stream that crossed the valley
and supplied it with life
has now dried out.
What was once a dreamy scenery
has now become the aftermath
of a nightmare.
The once clear waters of the stream
have now turned red 
and dry. 
Only one man is standing.
One man, lonesome, weeping.
His hair, covered in dried blood,
his armor shattered by the wrath of the war,
create an image of time standing still. 
He dismounts his black horse, dizzy
and sickened by the smell of lifeless bodies.
He walks and pulls his horse behind.
His cry is loud, breaking the silence.
Looking around, looking for hope,
he realises that there’s no one to hold.
His wounds rush shivers through his spine.
He lost too much blood.
He lost too much life.
the horse’s breath is heavy too;
he’s tired and wounded as well.
The horse stops and kneels
behind his master.
Tears roll over his dark figure
as his hero kneels next to him
and with a warm embrace
the two weep along each other,
into deep sleep.
 
A strange breeze awakens them. 
The hero hastily rushes to stand up.
With his hand on his sword, 
he’s ready to fight and defend themselves. 
But there’s nothing to be found. 
The breeze murmurs in a low tone,
voices from the past, he hears
in the deadly silence of the field.
It feels like a virus
expanding its dread inside their minds
and hearts,
restlessly demolishing everything
that has brought them to this place,
to this moment.
They have lost.
They won the battle,
yet lost the war.
 
An eagle scouts from above,
cutting through the now abyssal night skies.
His wings glimmer,
showered in the moonlight. 
His sight meets the warrior’s,
staring hopelessly at the skies
in wonder.
A sky so clear,
a mind so troubled,
a landscape so paradoxical.
Memories are not here to stay
but to navigate the wings of time.
Same as life and death,
always on the run, always here,
always there. 
The cycle moves on and on,
with its never-ending loop,
with its skies clear,
with its mind troubled,
beginning anew. 
Life is a tale, 
a mystery,
troubled minds we are, 
seeking          
our place among the skies.
Seeking home. 
Now the warrior draws his last breath
lying next to his wounded companion
in the deep eternal sleep
until the cycle will be reborn 
until the eagle 
thirsty for death
turns into a dove.
 
Credits: Dragos Radu (2022, The Diary Of A Nobody)

E14: Burnt Norton Pt. 2 - T.S. Eliot

T.S. Eliot - Burnt Norton Pt. 2
 
Written in: Published in 1943 in the 4 Quartets of T.S. Eliot. (source: poemanalysis.com, 2022)
Theme:
The main theme of ‘Burnt Norton is the nature of time, its relation to salvation, and the contrast between the experience of the modern man and spirituality. The lyrical voice meditates on life and the need to subscribe to the universal order. The poem’s structure and form are similar to T. S. Eliot’s The Wasteland, as several fragments of poetry are put together and set as one. The rhyme and meter rely on the repetition and circularity of language, which corresponds to the conception of time introduced in the poem. Light and dark, movement and stillness, and roses are some of the motifs that appear in ‘Burnt Norton’. (source: poemanalysis.com, 2022)
 
Poem:
Garlic and sapphires in the mudClot the bedded axle-tree.The trilling wire in the bloodSings below inveterate scarsAppeasing long forgotten wars.The dance along the arteryThe circulation of the lymphAre figured in the drift of starsAscend to summer in the treeWe move above the moving treeIn light upon the figured leafAnd hear upon the sodden floorBelow, the boarhound and the boarPursue their pattern as beforeBut reconciled among the stars.
At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say where.And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time.The inner freedom from the practical desire,The release from action and suffering, release from the innerAnd the outer compulsion, yet surroundedBy a grace of sense, a white light still and moving,Erhebung without motion, concentrationWithout elimination, both a new worldAnd the old made explicit, understoodIn the completion of its partial ecstasy,The resolution of its partial horror.Yet the enchainment of past and futureWoven in the weakness of the changing body,Protects mankind from heaven and damnationWhich flesh cannot endure.Time past and time futureAllow but a little consciousness.To be conscious is not to be in timeBut only in time can the moment in the rose-garden,The moment in the arbour where the rain beat,The moment in the draughty church at smokefallBe remembered; involved with past and future.Only through time time is conquered.
 
 
Credits: T.S. Eliot 1943 - Four Quartets and poemanalysis.com, 2022