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Tag Archives: symbolism in poetry

Welcoming the new season: ‘Autumn’ , a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

13 Thursday Oct 2016

Posted by meappropriatestyle in poems, poetry

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'Autumn' by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, autumn leaves, autumn poems, lyrical poem, poem about the fall season, poems, poetry, symbolism in poetry, visually evocative poem

 

A poem which evokes a dynamic visual of

the colour rich Fall season …

autumn-leaves-gold

(image from shutterstock)

 

 

 

Autumn

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 – 1882)

 

Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain,
With banners, by great gales incessant fanned,
Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand,
And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain!
Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne,
Upon thy bridge of gold; thy royal hand
Outstretched with benedictions o’er the land,
Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain!
Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspended
So long beneath the heaven’s o’er-hanging eaves;
Thy steps are by the farmer’s prayers attended;
Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves;
And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid,
Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves!

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Of aspirations yet realised: “my dreams, my works, must wait wait till after hell” by Gwendolyn Brooks

21 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by meappropriatestyle in inspiration, poems, poetry

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"my dreams my works must wait till after hell"-poem, emotive poem, Gwendolyn Brooks, poem on hopes and dreams, poems, poet, poetry, symbolism in poetry

 

The works of Pulitzer Prize winning poet,

Gwendolyn Brooks

are rich in symbolic language-

which she employs with vigorous bounce.

Her poems provoke the reader to reconsider meanings

of pieces previously perused.

Thus is the power of her talent.

 

…

Her writings are of life’s circumstances:

expectations, disappointments, longings,

decisions made- some good, some not so.

Written in a real voice, of a steady hand-

her poems are thoughtful, heartfelt, believable, courageous.

 

…

I have “befriended” works by Gwendolyn Brooks,

which I periodically revisit.

I have made some new acquaintances,

from which is received either

a measure of insight, joy, contemplation or solace.

…

F.  L., thank you for “introducing” me to Gwendolyn Brooks,

all those many years ago.

 

 

…

my dreams, my works, must wait till after hell

by Gwendolyn Brooks

 

I hold my honey and I store my bread

In little jars and cabinets of my will.

I label clearly, and each latch and lid

I bid, Be firm till I return from hell.

I am very hungry. I am incomplete.

And none can tell when I may dine again.

No man can give me any word but Wait,

The puny light. I keep eyes pointed in;

Hoping that, when the devil days of my hurt

Drag out to their last dregs and I resume

On such legs as are left me, in such heart

As I can manage, remember to go home,

My taste will not have turned insensitive

To honey and bread old purity could love.

…

(image from lubbockonline.com):

poet, gwendolyn brooks

Gwendolyn Brooks

(1917 – 2000)

Poet.  Teacher.  Mentor.

Pulitzer Prize Recipient for Poetry, 1950

(Ms. Brooks was the first Black American to receive this honour)

Poet Laureate of Illinois, 1968

Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress, 1985

…

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And so the the days grow short and the nights grow cold, autumn arrives: as visualised by the poet/author Lucy Maud Montgomery

06 Monday Oct 2014

Posted by meappropriatestyle in poems, poetry

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'An Autumn Evening', contemplative poetry, Lucy Maud Montgomery, poem, poet, symbolism in poetry

An Autumn Evening
by Lucy Maud Montgomery

 

Dark hills against a hollow crocus sky
Scarfed with its crimson pennons, and below
The dome of sunset long, hushed valleys lie
Cradling the twilight, where the lone winds blow
And wake among the harps of leafless trees
Fantastic runes and mournful melodies.

The chilly purple air is threaded through
With silver from the rising moon afar,
And from a gulf of clear, unfathomed blue
In the southwest glimmers a great gold star
Above the darkening druid glens of fir
Where beckoning boughs and elfin voices stir.

And so I wander through the shadows still,
And look and listen with a rapt delight,
Pausing again and yet again at will
To drink the elusive beauty of the night,
Until my soul is filled, as some deep cup,
That with divine enchantment is brimmed up.

 

…

 

 

Lucy Maud Montgomery, 1874  – 1942
Canadian poet and author

 

(image from famouscanadians.org):
an autumn evening, poem, lucy laud montgomery, portrait
…

 

Lucy Maud Montgomery was an only child.  She was raised by her elderly
maternal grandparents.  She embraced the companionship of her imagination
and her writing.

 

She is widely known for her best selling novel
Anne of Green Gables  (1908).

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‘All This and More’: a poem by American memoirist / poet Mary Karr

30 Monday Jun 2014

Posted by meappropriatestyle in poems, poetry

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'All This and More' - poem, dealing with adversity, Mary Karr - poet, storytelling, symbolism in poetry

Born in 1955,  raised in poverty and

recover-(ed, ing) from the demon of substance addiction

contemporary American poet and memoirist,

author of New York Times bestseller list’s, The Liar’s Club,

Mary Karr

has a story, and more, to tell.

(image from poetryfoundation.org):

Mary Karr poet_PhotoCredit_WilliamMebane

poet / memoirist,  Mary Karr

…

Her work of poetry ,

All This and More

is a tale about the fallout from making bad decisions,

journeying on the wrong of life’s path and the struggle to get things right again.

The imagery, set to provoke, is of the

Devil, giving a tour of Hell.

…

All This and More

by Mary Karr

The Devil’s tour of hell did not include
a factory line where molten lead
spilled into mouths held wide,
no electric drill spiraling screws
into hands and feet, nor giant pliers
to lower you into simmering vats.
Instead, a circle of light
opened on your stuffed armchair,
whose chintz orchids did not boil and change,
and the Devil adjusted
your new spiked antennae
almost delicately, with claws curled
and lacquered black, before he spread
his leather wings to leap
into the acid-green sky.
So your head became a tv hull,
a gargoyle mirror. Your doppelganger
sloppy at the mouth
and swollen at the joints
enacted your days in sinuous
slow motion, your lines delivered
with a mocking sneer. Sometimes
the frame froze, reversed, began
again: the red eyes of a friend
you cursed, your girl child cowered
behind the drapes, parents alive again
and puzzled by this new form. That’s why
you clawed your way back to this life.

…

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‘Mujeres del Rebozo Rojo’ : recitated by the poet Carmen Tafolla

01 Sunday Jun 2014

Posted by meappropriatestyle in art speak, poems, poetry

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'Mujeres del Rebozo Rojo' - poem, Carmen Tafolla - poet, poem, rebozos, symbolism in poetry

 

A reading of her poem

Mujeres del Rebozo Rojo

rebozos_jacket-carmen-tafolla-and-catalina-garate-garcia-700x450

by world renown poet and San Antonio, Texas poet laureate

Carmen Tafolla

…

…

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Happy Mothering Sunday, UK (30-3-2014) … to all mothers who climbed the staircase, who paved the way

30 Sunday Mar 2014

Posted by meappropriatestyle in meapp message, poems, poetry

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'Mother to Son' - poem, Langston Hughes, narrative poem, poetry, symbolism in poetry, use of extended metaphor

A mother’s life journey –

a climb, a struggle, riddled with hardships

yet moving in a positive direction,

up life’s staircase of challenges.

Never turning back, never standing still

always moving forward … up.

…

A mother reminds her child, her son

that though the journey may oft times be

one of travail –

keep moving along … up.

…

A mother is

a teacher, a guide, an example to follow

one who helps her children

navigate life,

which is in most instances

anything but a smooth path up –

a silver staircase

…

 

Mother to Son

By Langston Hughes

Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

…

langston_hughes_020111-thumb-640xauto-2149

James Mercer Langston Hughes, 1902 – 1967

Poet.  Playwright.  Novelist.  Columnist.

innovator of ‘jazz poetry’

leader of the Harlem Renaissance

…

Listen

Recitation 1:  a woman gives an emotive reading

Recitation 2:  by the poet himself, Langston Hughes

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