The Modernist era for poetry took place around the early twentieth century. The focus of modernist poetry usually dealt with the themes of experimentation, imaginism, intellectualism, etc. T.S. Elliot and Ezra Pound are examples of some Modernist poets. Postmodernist poetry, on the other hand, deals more with the poets’ subconsciousness and therefore is usually more fragmented than Modernist poetry and began around the sixties. Choose either a Modern or Postmodern poem and explain, with textual evidence, how that poem fits into that time period of poetry. The following sites will be helpful in analyzing the themes of the time periods.
Modernism- http://www.bellaonline.com/articles/art30081.asp Postmodernism- http://www.textetc.com/modernist/postmodernism.html
Posted by Shane W., Natalie U., and Kelly M.
Buffalo Bill's
ReplyDeletedefunct
who used to
ride a watersmooth-silver
stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeons justlikethat
Jesus
he was a handsome man
and what I want to know is
how do you like your blue-eyed boy
Mister Death
Edward Estlin Cummings
E. E. Cummings is a modernist poet who focuses on imaginism and is very intellectual in his writing of this poem. Cummings goes against the norm in punctuation; leaving out spaces, or even indenting the lines to disrupt the train of thought. With his awkward punctuation it appears as if you are the one experiencing the thoughts first hand. This makes the anti-realism occur. The persons stream of conscious thus becomes the most important focus of the poem. Cummings uses this effect in order to achieve the form of modernist writing. By evolving what has occurred with Buffalo Bill, his horse, and his life Cummings achieves a further deepening into what has happened. Contradictory statements of him being “beautiful”, and “death” opens the door to the consciousness. Thus making an unforgettable experience, that seems to end “justlikethat”. Cummings uses various techniques to achieve a modernist writing.
"Two Lovers and a Beachcomber by the Real Sea"
ReplyDeleteCold and final, the imagination
Shuts down its fabled summer house;
Blue views are boarded up; our sweet vacation
Dwindles in the hour-glass. Thoughts that found a maze of mermaid hair
Tangling in the tide's green fall
Now fold their wings like bats and disappear
Into the attic of the skull. We are not what we might be; what we are
Outlaws all extrapolation
Beyond the interval of now and here:
White whales are gone with the white ocean. A lone beachcomber squats among the wrack
Of kaleidoscope shells
Probing fractured Venus with a stick
Under a tent of taunting gulls. No sea-change decks the sunken shank of bone
That chucks in backtrack of the wave;
Though the mind like an oyster labors on and on,
A grain of sand is all we have. Water will run by; the actual sun
Will scrupulously rise and set;
No little man lives in the exacting moon
And that is that, is that, is that.
-Sylvia Plath
This poem was first published in 1955, this is the same year that she graduated from Smith College. It was awarded the Glascock Award. There is no meter or rhyme to her poem leaving it as a stream of consciousness. She jumps from thought to thought allowing the reader to see the scenery change. Although realism is not a modernist theme, this poem is very realistic, it portrays the beach season closing and the summer coming to and end.
Five Flights Up
ReplyDeleteStill dark.
The unknown bird sits on his usual branch.
The little dog next door barks in his sleep
inquiringly, just once.
Perhaps in his sleep, too, the bird inquires
once or twice, quavering.
Questions---if that is what they are---
answered directly, simply,
by day itself.
Enormous morning, ponderous, meticulous;
gray light streaking each bare branch,
each single twig, along one side,
making another tree, of glassy veins...
The bird still sits there. Now he seems to yawn.
The little black dog runs in his yard.
His owner's voice arises, stern,
"You ought to be ashamed!"
What has he done?
He bounces cheerfully up and down;
he rushes in circles in the fallen leaves.
Obviously, he has no sense of shame.
He and the bird know everything is answered,
all taken care of,
no need to ask again.
---Yesterday brought to today so lightly!
(A yesterday I find almost impossible to lift.)
-Elizabeth Bishop
Elizabeth Bishop is a modernist poet who focuses mainly on experimentation and intellectualism. She bases her poetry off of her experiences in the physical world. Bishop traveled all over the world like France, Ireland, North Africa, and Italy. She filled her poetry with descriptions of her travels. Her poems focus on experimentation because she doesn't follow the traitional form of poetry. She doesn't count syllables or use a specific amount of lines, she simply tries to go beyond the traditional form. They also focus on intellectualism because they're about her life experiences and her viewpoint on the real world, however, she rearranges her words to seem like they're in a non-realistic world. Elizabeth Bishop was not as well-known as other modernist poets, but she was known as a major force in contemporary literature.
"a pretty a day"
ReplyDeleteby E. E. Cummings
a pretty a day
(and every fades)
is here and away
(but born are maids
to flower an hour
in all,all)
o yes to flower
until so blithe
a doer a wooer
some limber and lithe
some very fine mower
a tall;tall
some jerry so very
(and nellie and fan)
some handsomest harry
(and sally and nan
they tremble and cower
so pale:pale)
for betty was born
to never say nay
but lucy could learn
and lily could pray
and fewer were shyer
than doll. doll
-E.E. Cummings
E.E. Cummings is a modernist poet. He was born in Cambridge Massachusets in 1894 and died in 1962. He uses rhyme in this poem and concentrates on nature using the way he percieves it from within himself. But in a non realistic way, nothing is as perfect as E.E. Cummings says it is. Cummings also experiments with the lay out and syntax of the poem. by the lines at the end such as... "pale, pale"
"tall, tall", "doll, doll". The odd syntax at the end takes away from the more traditional rhyming scheme that is present through out the rest of the poem. He invents a new style by combining the rhyme scheme with the untraditional paranthesis and words.
***REDIRECTION*** So far, my favorite poem posted is Kelsey's, the one by Elizabeth Bishop. The language is so satisfying, like the line "Enormous morning, ponderous, meticulous". It's very similar in style to the one posted by Maura. EE Cummings is also a fascinating poet, and the difference is styles is apparent in the two poems. from now on, posters should use the themes and characteristics of modern or post- modern poetry to create their own poem. After that, shortly describe how your poem fits into these catagories. Minimum length- 12 lines.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteI fall, the wind sings to me
ReplyDeleteI catch myself
hitting the ground in cadence
I fly and see the ground below me
The world spins, round
The grass grows and life goes
the asphalt burns and smells of tar
the smell of gas and sounds of traffic
jumping up and down the children play
they scream, they cry, they run away
the wind blows its haunting song
through the hypnotic sunlight reflected on the ground
the birds sing in harmony with the wind
can you hear life?
death plays harmony
This is an Exapmle of postmodern poetry because of the use of iconoclasm by contradicting the expected when you hear children play. Groundless in the use of indeterminite endings in the beginning in regards to falling. Formlessness in the chaos of jumping from slow grass grows to jumping up and down.
“Self-destruction”
ReplyDeleteA broken heart,
A punctured soul,
An emptiness inside.
What’s my purpose?
Life cannot continue like this;
An endless tunnel,
With no light at the other end.
My shattered heart emits a desperate plea for mercy,
From the girl in the long black dress,
But to no avail.
Her callous exterior is impenetrable,
And her heart as cold as the fingers,
With which she used to hold me.
They say that life’s purpose,
Is to find love.
But now my purpose is gone…
I tried to write this poem in the Modernist style, as it truly focuses on the inner emotions of the speaker. I am simply the writer of the poem, but I wrote it in first person at an attempt to truly discover and express what it is that a man with a broken heart truly feels. Modernism was an exploration of the power of individual thought and emotion, and this poem was an attempt to portray the futility and worthlessness experienced in an individual who has lost his first love.
"The Idiot Box"
ReplyDeleteLife tumbling
spinning,ending around.
I avoid all.
froze snow, world outside.
complacent I, inside
staring colored vision.
myself halted.
like tundra beyond.
I completed nothing with
nonexistent accomplishments
but any I do not wish
my warmth is achieved
by cold naivety.
so here I sit,
shrinking to masses.
the pixel cube
will never bubble to ashes.
This poem is an attempt at modernist poetry. My poem does not follow a specific rhyme scheme or a constant syllable count. I also have lines and metaphors that are unclear and possible undetectable. These characteristics , along with anti-realism and intellectualism, are key concepts in modernist poetry.
“What Today Gave to Me”
ReplyDeleteAching joints and stiff sore muscles
Itchy dry skin, brittle coarse hair
Smelling like fumes of toxic gas
This repugnant stench fills the air.
Come home, eat and work.
Go to bed, sleep and snore
Wake up, gripe and whine
Leave for school, wasting away
Back to the pool, fishes have it easy
My coach is weird…these girls are in heat this winter.
It’s a shame I’m so naked… looking good, but so cold.
I better swim fast…have to win states, get gold medals
I wish I could go to Taco Bell right now…it’s right down the street.
This is my modernist way of compiling my thoughts when I look back on a day from swimming to swimming. It depicts how the mind wanders, even in one single topic. Swimming is a big part of my life, but it also brings up a lot of strife, and in order to relate that to the reader, the rest of my day is also shown in a not so glorious light. It’s like the bare minimal of thought. There is no real rhyme scheme, but some lines do rhyme to keep it interesting.
Unfortunately, Always Somewhere to Be
ReplyDeleteBy Brennan Pieroni
Briefcase, tie, papers…time keeps flying,
Out the door, focus on the destination
Why won’t the keys go in the ignition?
Rumble, think I’m ready – clutch in, shift to 1st.
The lines are racing by, the engine too.
A ringing emanates from under the dash
Glove box, there’s my phone!
Move buddy! “Hey boss…be there in a few”
I honk the horn, but can people hear nowadays?
Swiftly across two lanes, like a running back cutting to the hole,
The men in blue don’t think so,
Bubble gum lights flash behind... that dreadful glow.
This piece is, for the most part, modernist in style. The subject of the poem expresses feelings, emotions, and thoughts directly, in a stream-of-consciousness style that fragments the poem in certain instances (notice line 2-3). While the poem may appear to focus on the outer world, we immediately feel wrapped in the speaker’s situation. The audience remains isolated and the outside world blurs until the speaker’s mission ends in lines 11-12. The individual remains prominent, despite the initial appearance of being worldly in style and tone. This is especially evident through the broken tone that envelops the audience in the speaker’s plight. We feel with the individual, rather than observing.
The Father is the Void
ReplyDeleteThe Wife Waves
Their child is Matter.
Matter makes it with his mother
And their child is Life,
a daughter.
The Daughter is the Great Mother
Who, with her father/brother Matter
as her lover,
Gives birth to the Mind.
-Gary Snyder
Gary Snyder is a postmodernist poet that was also largely responsible for the Beat generation of poetry and writing, a period of literature known for exploring the social controversies inherent in sex, drugs, and eastern culture and religion. In this poem, Snyder demonstrates the abstract and often transcendentalist thinking common to the Beat era through his inconsistent and informal format and style. He aso focuses on the interaction of the universe in regards to the creation of life, personifying Matter, Waves, Life, the Void, and the Mind as powerful forces of the universe. One concept of particular profundity is found on lines 4-6, where "Matter makes it with its Mother, and they give birth to a child, Life, a daughter." Matter's "mother" in Snyder's poem is actually "Waves", so the verse can be simplified by saying. "Matter makes waves, and life is born." The line stands as an example of Snyder's wit and also the transcendentalist philosophies he upheld.
Good job this week, especially to those who had to write their own poem. Kevin and Brennan did really well by observing their circumstances and makng a free-style poem about those circumstances, Trisha - I liked that yours' was so mysterious, both through your rhetorical devices and the context of the poem. I also like how Rachel and Jeff dive deep in the emotional side of modernism, rather than the observationl side.
ReplyDeleteoh sorry I didn't see the redirection.
ReplyDeleteCycles ~ Josh George
My Life Is In Cycles
Cycles of Cycles of Cycles
Life, Death, Water, Energy
spinning and twisting together
crashing colliding and amalgamating
mashing up and mutilating, endlessly dying
endlessly living, Life
How do I live? Am I a cycle too?
step two of four? a chrysalis, or
unhatched, a golden egg. maybe I'll evaporate-
respirate, melt, condensate
freeze solid and incubate.
Who knows?
life, death: relative
children of splintered perspectives
Does the caterpillar believe death
to be encased in a silky womb, strung up
until he grows wings?
Did he feel life before, or after
he alighted?
gliding gusts of wind, flying free
renewed, colorful, beautiful
Life is cycles.
I wrote my poem abiding with postmodernist themes, which include the question of existence, transcendentalism in nature and man's place in the universe.