DDCPoetry

Poem found here: "Book 7, Epigram 42" More about the Poet:  Thomas Bastard "Love the vice" is the last note I wrote for this poem.  When I reread this poem again, I thought to myself that this poet is really putting vice on a godly pedestal, "Our vice runs beyond all the old men saw."  The use of "old men" in the opening line brings a sense of agelessness as well as human into the poem -- something beyond a normal man (or woman). "And far authentically above our laws, / And scorning virtues safe and golden mean,"  Once again, vice is beyond humans, whatever human constructs try to block it, and doesn't care about "virtues" that humans do. Vice is just omnipotent. "Sits uncontrolled beyond the high extreme. / Circes, thy monsters painted out the hue,"  The allusion to Circes is an interesting thing in this poem because it appears Circes is the ultimate vice.  I had to read back the Circe lore from Wikipedia to

Poem found here:   "Crumbling is not an instant's Act (1010)" More about the Poet:   Emily Dickinson Such a strong first line that makes a reader wonder, "Crumbling is not an instant's Act" where the speaker sets up a curiosity -- what is the physical visual case between crumbling/not crumbling.  The next three lines brings a curt matter of fact attitude: A fundamental pause Dilapidation's processes Are organized Decays -- The process of decay is an orderly manner -- a pause, dilapidation happens, good and organized.  Then the speaker brings this sort of objective view goes back to the self, "'Tis first a Cobweb on the soul."  And as the image of this crumbling soul going down to the most basic electron: A Cuticle of Dust A Borer in the Axis An Elemental Rust --  So the soul, this particle, is down to an "elemental" rust is gone.  Is it gone?  If not gone then what happens, "Ruin is formal -- Devil's work / Consecutive an

Poem found here: American Sonnet for My Past and Future Assassin More about the Poet:   Terrance Hayes I remember reading parts of this collection at my friend's house.  I haven't read much of him, but knew he was really good.  You don't get a National Book Award for nothing, right.  I've been hitting a rough patch with poetry as life cuts in: full-time job, bills, responsibilities.  It seems I just don't make the time. And in a weird segway, this poem plays with grandeur things like Time, parallel worlds, and gods.  Also, unfortunately, I don't know anything about Dr. Who.  I should  though, shouldn't I?  Does this matter in the context of the poem when, in an instant, the speaker says, "In a parallel world where all Dr. Who's / Are black [...]" changes the race of the entire history of things but are still recognizable or a "parallel world." Note, not opposite.  Parallel means just slight changes to the norm -- deviance is more of a

Poem found here: Reading Anna Karenina More about the Poet:  Karina Borowicz I haven't read Anna Karenina.  Does this make this analysis pretty useless, most likely.  These are my thoughts and analysis of a poem, opinions not fact. I'm reading two different narratives -- the constructive narrative of the author Tolstoy, and the attempt to help by Karenina.  But something is incomplete in both their process to make a complete failure. Tolstoy's story -- middle aged man apprenticing himself to be a boot maker and the line that sticks out to me is, "Blisters, he knew, are holier than ink stain."  This metaphor intertwines physical painful but prideful badges of hard work "blisters" versus the overthought, quickened carelessness of "ink stain."  Both symbolizes, to me, the pains of creation and the happiness of the failures of it.  So when "The boots were ugly and they pinched."  I expected a contrast. But Karenina is not portrayed as a f