Poetry Wars

My brother hates rhyming poems, so he attacked me on his blog. He wants me to attack his work, but I’m not going to.  I won’t, because its an art. The level of enjoyment one has for a piece of art, is directly related to how one interprets it. To that end, I am going to attack his intepretation. I felt his understanding of what I wrote was too literal, thus ignoring all the layers I put into the poem.

When reading poems, you don’t just read them through, end to end, you have to sit down and actually analyze them, if you want to uncover the deep meaning behind them. I don’t my course note anymore, but John Lye has a nice page about how to interpret poems. I guess I will be analyzing my own poem:

My Angel divine,
Forever be mine.

The sight of your eyes,
My happy demise.

The sound of your voice,
My soul will rejoice.

The smell of your hair,
Far sweeter than air.

The touch of your hand,
I can’t even stand.

The taste of your lips,
A mental eclipse.

Forever with me,
I need you to be.

In writing this poem, I made sure every line had exactly 5 syllables. The reason behind this, was because I wanted to capture the feeling of “love at first sight”. I wanted to capture the concept of all these thoughts and feelings rushing to your head all at once. With the 5 syllable limit, its impossible not to read it fast.

To aid with the “fast reading”, I made sure there were no “tongue twister” words. I wanted every line to flow perfectly.  Why? Because usually, when you’re thinking of something in your mind, the thoughts are perfect. But when you try to express those thoughts, language becomes the biggest obstacle. If you go through every word, you will notice that there’s an emphasis on the 2nd syllable. This helps establish a meter, which further aids with with the flow.

I wanted to capture the feeling of someone “unattainable”, to go along with the feeling of “love at first sight”. For many people, they get the feeling first, and get the girl afterwards. Which brings us the descriptions. The first stanza makes it seem like the girl isn’t his yet, but the next 5 stanzas makes the reader believe there is already a relationship. But then you read the final stanza. The haunting last line, “I need you to be”, which brings a sense of longing.

The sight of your eyes,
My happy demise.

My brother commented, “Anyways, because of his rhyme usage, his poem implies that if he looks at his angel divine, he will die, similar to how Medusa turns people into stone.” Which is the total opposite of what I intended. In fact, he had fallen victim to literal interpretations. The idea I am trying to convey here, is that you have a girl, who’s eyes are so beautiful, that you will be able to happily die. I really loved that idea. The idea that, “if that’s the last thing I see, well then I’m a lucky man indeed”.

The touch of your hand,
I can’t even stand.

This one is the easiest line to be mis-interpreted. My brother commented, “so the touch of his angel divine repulses him?” I’m trying to convey the concept of “weak at the knees”, which usually happens, when there is a powerful emotional reaction to something.

The taste of your lips,
A mental eclipse.

This is my favourite stanza in the entire poem. Mental eclipse. Its a powerful imagery. A kiss so wonderful, that it eclipses any and all thoughts .

In response to my brother’s claim, that “I believe that poems work better when they flow freely and when the imagery matches the subject,” I think that it doesn’t really matter.  Its all up to interpretation. I leave you guys, with my two favourite poems. One rhymes, one doesn’t.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! — and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Your Laughter
By Pablo Neruda

Take bread away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.

Do not take away the rose,
the lance flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.

My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.

My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.

Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.

Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.