Originally posted by arrakisWhich is why I like poetry. 🙂
I just wanted to show how poetry can mean something different to everybody.
How you interpret a specific poem at a specific time can tell you a lot about yourself. How you change over time and how you perceive things differently at different stages in life.
Originally posted by stockenSo whats happening again with this thread... are we submitting some poem at some point...?
Which is why I like poetry. 🙂
How you interpret a specific poem at a specific time can tell you a lot about yourself. How you change over time and how you perceive things differently at different stages in life.
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Originally posted by BowmannYes, this particular poem was more clear than most. 🙂
Erm, don't forget the title of the poem...
Then again, he could have meant something other than to simply dipict the rabbit caught in the disease. He could have meant for instance, how when faced with the hardships of life one should not simply give up and wait for rescue, or things can end as unfortunate as for the little ill rabbit.
Yea, I know, that's lame. But it's possible. 😕
(And I was talking about Philip here, of course. Not Arrakis.)
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Originally posted by arrakisOnly you can answer that, but I'd say the chances are good that you are. Or rather, it's good for you if you are. That is, if you can find a love-vessle to release in*.
Does that mean I'm horny?
Dr. Booth has spoken.
* Although, there is nothing shameful with self-gratification, should you lack the desired company.
Originally posted by Bowmann:'(
No chocolate banana after all.
I haven't actually read any Larkin. Mostly swedish poems (easier to digest in my own native language). So, why is it that Larkin doesn't use metaphore's in his poetry? No, wait. I'll google on it. 🙂
Couldn't I have at least half the chocolate banana for getting at least part of it right?
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Originally posted by NordlysTry this one, then. It's a doddle:
Most texts make sense the first time I read them. This one didn't.
Dry-Point
Endlessly, time-honoured irritant,
A bubble is restively forming at your tip.
Burst it as fast as we can -
It will grow again, until we begin dying.
Silently it inflates, till we're enclosed
And forced to start the struggle to get out:
Bestial, intent, real.
The wet spark comes, the bright blown walls collapse,
But what sad scapes we cannot turn from then:
What ashen hills! what salted, shrunken lakes!
How leaden the ring looks,
Birmingham magic all discredited,
And how remote that bare and sunscrubbed room,
Intensely far, that padlocked cube of light
We neither define nor prove,
Where you, we dream, obtain no right of entry.
Philip Larkin, 1950
😉
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Originally posted by BowmannThe hunter waits patiently in the hot woods and hours go by until the prey is caught in the trap. The hunter doesn't notice at first but the animal's cry of pain through the forest's silence grabs the hunter's attention.
[b]Myxomatosis
Caught in the centre of a soundless field
While hot inexplicable hours go by
What trap is this? Where were its teeth concealed?
You seem to ask.
I make a sharp reply,
Then clean my stick. I'm glad I can't explain
Just in what jaws you were to suppurate:
You may have thought things would come right again
If you could only keep quite still and wait.
Philip Larkin, 1954[/b]
The hunter looks at the animal and seems to get the impression that the animal is wondering in shock as how it slipped out of concentration and fell in such a trap. The hunter replies swiftly by ending the animal's life.
While the hunter is cleaning his killing tool, he ponders about the animal's last thoughts. He sinisterly blames the animal for its death as it uttered these cries and made this sorry situation known to the hunter.
Myxomatosis; is when the Zionists blame the Palestinians for the rabbit's death.