Fianl Anthology: Love's Harmonic Voice

Love’s Harmonic Voice
An Introduction
Tickling butterflies, shimmering stars, velvety roses, and fluttering hearts…often we associate these things with the mortal phenomenon we know as love. Or do we really know it at all? To be truthful, it is much more than chocolates and candle lit dinners. Although the world today can seem often jaded in love’s definition, the eternal melding of two hearts into one is absolutely magical. It might not always be lovely, but it always shines with at least one element of beauty. That beauty is unique and individual to each person or persons involved. The beauty of love may be birthed through a kiss, a walk on the beach, or caring for a special friend in need. Or, on the contrary, love’s remarkable aesthetic may emerge from pain, loss, or a “coming to terms” realization that causes one to move on. Either way, love is an uphill battle, a slippery-slope, an endless journey, or a guided dream. It is often the act of losing yourself and finding your soulmate, or possibly even giving yourself in hopes that your target will reciprocate. But all in all, that twinkle in one’s eye is only created and confirmed by one deciphering action…falling.
For some of us, it happens only once. Others have the thrill and shame of stumbling over and over again. Unfortunately, in our society today, many people have “fallen out of love” with love. Hollywood, contemporary literature, fame, and the pursuasive media have worked overtime to feed the wounds we all have of love-gone-wrong. As a believer and true romantic, I feel this generation has been handed a grave injustice by having the option of not wanting love, not desiring love, or not “loving” love. I want to know how it feels to fall happily. Now, I am fully aware that love is surprising and, as I said earlier, very unique for everyone, but I want to discover a pattern that is attractive and wholesome. Rather than just hearing and knowing how everything shouldn’t be, until we feel it for ourselves, how do we know how it feels to fall?
In my opinion, there is nothing more magical or powerful than these “wild and whirling words” (32). I could choose no better text than the language of the heart itself…poetry. In searching, I found some great works that made my soul smile. These poems made me want to fall in love. I was inspired and lifted. Not necessarily because of their depth, great pursuasion, or insight, but these selections caught my eye because they were pure and true. I even included one of my own poems. Myself and the other authors obviously have a genuine respect and passion for love. As Plato put it so eloquently, “At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet” (www.quoteland.com). I can not say that each of the poets included in this collection have experienced true love. We really have no way of knowing that to be true or not. Also, I would not make the claim of knowing love fully for myslef either. I have recently begun the process of falling in love…to some degree. My piece is more of a hope or dream of what my “falling” encounter will include. I am pursuaded to believe that some of the other poets here are motivated in the same direction. It is a bold statement to say you know the art of falling in love and recognize the imminent power love contains. But instead, after reading it is clearly understood that each poet desires a true love, enjoys the thought of it, and expresses with greatness the gentle grip it holds on our souls.
There are a few poems I wish to elaborate on and preface before you read them. These are the pieces that speak the most to me as an author, a human being, and a hopeful romantic. The first two poems I have included are a definiton and dreamy example of falling in love and experiencing true love. Summer’s Shaded Trees, my own poem, and Hope, by Emily Dickinson, are the truest examples of pure love I have found. The piece I wrote is an illustration of one day along my journey of falling in love. The alliterations in Summer’s signifies the fluidity that love should bring. Then Hope lines out one huge element it takes to be able to fall. There is almost a melodic tone to both of these pieces. To me, love should begin as a melody that grows into the harmony of two hearts. By placing these two first, you should get a clear preface to the rest of the collection’s movement. Let us talk about the dialogue between Suffolk and the Queen from William Shakespeare’s history play, King Henry VI, Part II. A brief background, Suffolk and Queen Margaret are deeply in love although their love is forbidden. The Queen is married to King Henry but does not care for him as she does for Suffolk. She came to marry the King by customs of the times (i.e. trade, position, family) and has begun to realize he does not have her best interst at heart. She wishes that she would have never left her home and moved to England. Margaret feels that the King does not treat her like a queen or wife deserves to be treated. After her one true love, Suffolk, is accused of murder and banished from the kingdom, the two have a compelling dialogue written in a beautiful verse of iambic pentameter that proves to the reader how special they are to each other. Suffolk outraged and the Queen in dispair, she kisses his hand and commands him to go away so she can mourn. She declares that she will either find a way to have him called back into the kingdom or have herself thrown out to insure they will be together again. Shakespeare writes:
“Give me thy hand,
That I may dew it with my mournful tears;
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,
To wash away my woful monuments.
O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand,
That thou mightst think upon these by the seal,
Through whom a thousand sighs are breathed for thee!”
(841)
How beautiful! Not only does she desire to be with him forever, but she also longs to have her love shown to the world. Here, I believe the Queen is saying that she will be with him in spirit wherever he goes. And when they are together again one day, she will never be ashamed or afraid to proclaim her love in public. They will wear each other’s kisses with grace and joy. This is a definition of love…selflessness. It is a wonderful feeling to not be ashamed of what you feel or what someone feels for you. When we reach that point, that is when the truth is found. While falling, I hope to always wear a kiss from my beloved, either on my cheek, my hand, my lips, or upon my heart. Suffolk then joins her to say that he would live in the woods if it meant being with her. Because life with out Margaret is not worth living. Wherever she is, Suffolk desires to be most. He says, “For where thou art, there is the world itself, With every several pleasure in the world…” (841). Suffolk is so in love that he believes her presence is worthy of the entire earth’s attention. In his eyes, her beauty is equal to the most wonderful place on earth. Each of us could only hope to find and feel a love so pure and devoted as Suffolk and the Queen’s. I found familiarity between this selection and Meeting at Night, by Robert Browning. Both of these pieces talk about doing whatever is necessary to be with the one you love. Shakespeare explains that living in the midst of animals and trees with a lover is better than living apart from your soulmate. Browning writes about a long journey that is taken to meet the one you love. Crossing the sea and marshlands, fighting the weather and the night is all worth it when you, at last, hear your dear friend’s sweet voice.
Another poem I wish to address prior to your reading would be Love is Not, by Marcus Argentarius. The first line says, “Love is not just a function of the eyes” (1.1). It is possible that I chose to include this poem for that line alone. It danced off the page and into my heart as I read it. I thought, “I could not agree more!” Although appearance does matter (you have to be attracted to the person) it is so much more a matter of the heart. If the hearts of two people do not beat in rhythm, if their souls do not stand comfortably side by side, then a pretty face will not even matter. Falling in love is about admiring the crooked things, the dark corners of someone’s thought bank. You fall in love with querks and freckles just as much as blue eyes and chissled muscles. When you can smile at and love even those things, then I believe, as Argentarius put it, “that fire is genuine” (1.6-7). I believe that falling in love also takes hope. You must be able to see it as a living and breathing thing in order to obtain it. I like to link Emily Dickinson’s poem, Hope, with Love is Not. She says that hope perches in our souls. I think that love lands on us in the same way. Then, as she says of hope, love has the ability to keep us warm even in the most chilling storm. Therefore, it can not just be about looks and likenesses. Love must be about connections in our souls and spirits. We must hold onto love like we hold onto hope. Then, as we are falling, our connected souls can fly on the wings of hope and virtue.
Now, after you have fallen in love, it must somehow be sustained. After years and years of smiles and passion, how can it stay genuine? I wanted to find some poems that focused on this aspect of love. I landed on one most common and one not so common. Sonnet XLIII, by Elizabeth Browning, and I Loved You First, by Christina Rossetti. I really enjoy how Browning makes a list in her poem. As stated, she literally “counts the ways” (49)…with every breath, with all her depth, with passion, as far as her soul can reach, with purity, and with grace. Rossetti says that love makes you as one unit. “Rich love knows nothing of ‘thine that is not mine’”(183), says Rossetti. According to her, love knows no claim of his or hers. Both of these poets have a great revelation of love making two souls exist as one. Even with uniqueness and personality all our own, when we have fallen, our heart’s should mirror each other with an undeniable sheen of love.
Hopefully my efforts to elaborate and educate will increase you. I pray you read these pieces with an open mind and heart. My desire is for you to recall some of these words when analyzing your falling experience. I began this project knowing only what I had felt for myself. Now, I can lean on hopes, dreams, desires, and lessons of other writers that exercised their craft to record true love. I am grateful and forever in debt to each of them and still many more. May you find true love and fall confidently with grace!


Summer’s Shaded Trees

Let’s sit under the shade of this tree together
The taste of summer, spring’s old air, is soft like cashmere
It rolls through the wind as if it’s in the circus
These leaves will soon be brown and red, now bright and green
Don’t waste any more time, come and soak it in
Breathe in the smell of blue oceans, lillies, and peace
While you read a book I’ll play, hoping you catch the words im saying
My love is the deepest red, our friendship the freshest yellow
Blowing dandelions we’ll laugh and sing
If we wait on the sun to set, the kiss will be forgotten
No, do it now, do it often!
Today I am as lonely as I’ll ever be
I feel more alive than I deserve
What is it about the summer wind and sunshine through trees
That makes us feel like cotton candy, sweet and at ease
The ground is warm, an iron smoothed dust, perfect with poise
I could watch her speak for hours, smiling and frowning
Telling stories about her past, greatest fears and victories
She’s the closest I’ve been to something so real
Like a new strand of pearls or a pianist set free
I could swear to never let it die, but then I would lose it all
Instead I’ll breathe in the now, watching summer show its power
Shimmering August, how I wish you would stay
We will wait for you here. Will you meet us again?
Hand and hand in honesty, your shaded stretch so comforting.
by Jennifer Hallam

Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers 

That perches in the soul, 

And sings the tune--without the words, 

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard; 

And sore must be the storm 

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land, 

And on the strangest sea; 

Yet, never, in extremity, 

It asked a crumb of me.
by Emily Dickinson

Love Is Not

Love is not just a function of the eyes.
Beautiful objects will, of course, inspire
Possessive urges - you need not despise
Your taste. But when insatiable deisre
Inflames you for a girl who’s out of fashion,
Lacking in glamour - plain, in fact - that fire
Is genuine; that’s the authentic passion.
Beauty, though, any critic can admire.

by Marcus Argentarius (20 BC-30 AD),
Translated by Fleur Adcock (1934- )

King Henry VI, Part II
Act III.2, lines 345-372

QUEEN MARGARET
O, let me entreat thee cease. Give me thy hand,
That I may dew it with my mournful tears;
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,
To wash away my woful monuments.
O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand,
That thou mightst think upon these by the seal,
Through whom a thousand sighs are breathed for thee!
So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;
'Tis but surmised whiles thou art standing by,
As one that surfeits thinking on a want.
I will repeal thee, or, be well assured,
Adventure to be banished myself:
And banished I am, if but from thee.
Go; speak not to me; even now be gone.
O, go not yet! Even thus two friends condemn'd
Embrace and kiss and take ten thousand leaves,
Loather a hundred times to part than die.
Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee!

SUFFOLK
Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished;
Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee.
'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence;
A wilderness is populous enough,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company:
For where thou art, there is the world itself,
With every several pleasure in the world,
And where thou art not, desolation.
I can no more: live thou to joy thy life;
Myself no joy in nought but that thou livest.
by William Skakespeare


Meeting at Night

The gray sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach; 

Three fields to cross till a farm appears; 

A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch 

And blue spurt of a lighted match, 

And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears, 

Than the two hearts beating each to each!
by Robert Browning


I Loved You First... (from Monna Innominata)

I loved you first: but afterwards your love,
Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song
As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove.
Which owes the other most? My love was long,
And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;
I loved and guessed at you, you contrued me
And loved me for what might or might not be—
Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.
For verily love knows not 'mine' or 'thine';
With separate 'I' and 'thou' free love has done,
For one is both and both are one in love:
Rich love knows nought of 'thine that is not mine';
Both have the strength and both the length thereof,
Both of us, of the love which makes us one.
by Christina Rossetti

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..."

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.
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Music

Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory –
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved’s bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Works Cited

Argentarius, Marcus. “Love is Not”. Love Poems. Washington, Peter, ed. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1993. 25.

Browning, Elizabeth Barrett. “Sonnet XLIII”. 100 Best Loved Poems. Smith, Philip, ed. Canada: General Publishing Company, Ltd., 1995. 49.

Browning, Robert. “Meeting at Night”. Love Poems. Washington, Peter, ed. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1993. 121.

Dickinson, Emily. “314 (254)”. The Norton Anthology of Poetry. Ed. Alexander Allison, et al. 5th ed. New York: W.W. Norton Company, 2005. 1114.

Plato. www.quoteland.com. Information retrieved 2 December 2007.

Rossetti, Christina. “I Loved You First”. Love Poems. Washington, Peter, ed. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1993. 183.

Shakespeare, William. “The Second Part of Henry the Sixth”. The Complete Pelican Shkespeare. Montgomery, William, ed. New York: Penguin Books Inc., 2002, 816-857.

Shelley, Percy Bysshe. “Music”. Love Poems. Washington, Peter, ed. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1993. 243.

Sentimentality

Although sentimentality is considered a pitfall and danger for poets, I also believe sentiment and emotional connection between author & audience, author & work, and also work & audience is crucial. Without words, images, and ideals that trigger emotional appeal, you cannot truly call it poetry. I know that is a bold claim, but poetry is art...and art is the connecting cord between people and thier hearts. Then, through expression and sharing, that cord connects us all. However, too much is too much. If the piece is so deep and covered with underlying meanings throughout, it is too hard to verify the meaning behind the poem. "Momentos, 1", by W. D. Snodgrass, is so moving and sentimental. There is so much truth in each word. This is one of those poems or poets that soaked there work in sentiment and emotion. Yet, we still want to read it! I could relate to the story being re-told. I have not been married or divorced, hopefully I will never be divorced, but I have definetely loved and lost. I have had friends or relationships that were amazing and then took a hard turn causing some sort or trouble. Most of the time, we worked it out. But sometimes you never work things out. Even in those situations, though, we still will always remember that special someone or best friend. There will always be a moment or mental photo to recall that shines with happiness and respect. I also think that Anne Sexton's poem, "The Truth the Dead Know", uses sentiment in the correct way. Of course she is expressing her emotions and feelings toward her parents dieing. I felt a small connection to this work. Line 4, "I am tired of being brave", rang so true in my ears and mind. My sister died when I was 15 and it devastated my family. Fortunately, we are a strong family that has always lived with faith in God and trusted that Jesus grace will always carry us through even the hardest times. My parents have pastored a church for the last 22 years running, so when my sister passed we were very much in the public eye. Not only did we have to find comfort and peace in our own lives, we had a congregations of almost 3000 people looking to us for the same. So I can easily say there were times when I was tired; tired of being brave, tired of being strong, tired of being tired. But, we did make it through with joy and trust in our Heavenly Father. Thank God for heaven where I know my sister is today. I wish Anne Sexton could have had this same outlook. Maybe her life would have not ended so tragicly. I write through my sentiment about similar topics as these poets have. I think it is powerful, but it can be overdone. You just have to use good judgment and good poetic technique.

The Beats vs. New York School Poets

I enjoyed our reading this week very much. The works were intersting and unique. I like the variety shown form each poet. Even within their own works, you could see some variation and stylistic differences. These poets were riskier and bolder than those before them. I particularly liked John Ashbery and Gary Snyder. From their collection of works, I chose to talk about and focus on Ashbery's, "The Painter", and Snyder's, "Above Pate Valley". Both of these poems have a narrative tone to them. "Painter" is about a man or person while "Valley" is more about a journey or an imaginative event. I am an artist that has recently become very interested in painting. I love the line from Ashbery's poem that said, "As if, forgetting itself, the portrait had expressed itslef without a brush" (17-18). That line is the most powerful line in my opinion. It resonated w/me as an artist. I also like the references to nature he used. Snyder's piece was full of strong, concrete images that help to create a picture in my mind. I love writing w/concrete images. Site and sound words are most useful in my opinion. I loved line 8, "Gree meadow watered by the snow", and lines 26-27, "Pick, singlejack, and sack of dynamite." Here, Snyder used consonace and site imagery. In my opinion, for contemporary poetry that so often has to be defined and understood, concrete images like this are the way to go. This way, the reader can engage.

free verse

Free verse is primarily poetry that does not rhyme. Although there might be lines or lyrics that do rhyme phonetically, it is not the purpose of the poem to have a rhyme scheme. They are not perfect rhymes, so to speak, instead these poems are sometimes fragmented expressions of thought. Tide together by line breaks, rhythm, and beat they make a poem. The structure of these poems s more laid back and has much more liberty than a rigorous sonnet or haiku for example. Yet, in light of these differences, free verse is still a powerful movement of poetry. The works we studied this week seem to be polar opposites of some of our previous readings. No ABAB or ABBA rhyming that is so comfortable to read. Free verse does still use its surroundings, the art of everyday life, to create something tremendous. For instane, Elizabeth Bishops piece, “Filling Station”, is about a dirty gas station that the speaker undoubtedly examined very closely. Bishop has many concrete images in her piece (“dirty, oil-soaked monkey suit”, “greasy sons”, “big dim doily”, “big hirsute begonia”…) She even has a few referneces to nature there. She talks about poignant colors and sights that overwhelmed her while looking onto the station. This is similar to the accounts some Romantic poets made about different places they loved. Whether it was an abby, a garden, or a shore, they expressed what they saw in their poetry. Although a filling station may not seem as important as some of the fancier poetry we read earlier in the semester, Bishop’s piece as a resounding ending. The last stanza sums everything up to say that we all are loved, each part of us and our world is important. She accomplished with this poem what ever poet strives to do. Bishop saw something normal and mundane and got a revelation. Then she shared that revelation with the world by writing it down as poetry.

Audre Lorde's "Echoes"

Audre Lorde’s works were very interesting to me. In particular, the poem “Echoes” stood out to me. In this piece, Lorde uses the metaphor of an echo to compare his life or possible his soul to. The first stanza is very powerful in describing the type of echo Lorde feels a connection with. “There is a timbre of voice that comes from not being heard and knowing you are not being heard…” says to me that Lorde, or possible black society in general, in speaking out but not being accepted clearly and audible. There voices are bounding off the backs of alleys and around street corners instead of in the courtrooms or business halls. Instead, they are heard and remembered for their transgressions (lines 30-32) “being caught making love to a woman I do not know”. One of my favorite lines in in stanza 2, lines 17 & 18, “I am listening in that fine space between desire and always”. The truth and insight behind these words crosses all racial and prestigious boundaries. Every person on earth is searching for the smallest grain of truth between what they want and what they know is eternal. We all are wanting to find ourselves in entirety by seeing something real for the first time. Lorde was trying to say this out loud for the black community. Little did he know that it would one day, 14 years later, be speaking vivdly to all of us. Audre Lorde was highly educated and worked hard to make her place among New Yorks highest intellectuals. It was strange to me that she would write something that had flavors of suffering and being stiffled for so long. Was her voice ever heard clearly? Maybe she could not hear her own voice well enough? That would explain her struggles with her sexual identity.

Creative Influences

Dylan Thomas writes a powerful truth in his poem, “In My Craft or Sullen Art”. There is a rawness present as well as a sense of sincerity toward the art of poetry and its impact on our lives. This style and tone reminded me of the Romantice poets we studied earlier. Not because they are so similar im imagery or rhyme scheme, but rather their underlying meanings are connected. The Romantics were extremely moved by nature and faith. These are things they believed in and needed for inspiration. Then, when they wrote, they wrote from their souls. Dylan Thomas did that as well. “In My Craft” is a song of his soul. And just like the Romantics had nature for inspiration, Thomas has that secret place, that moment in the night when it is just him and and his pen. He wrote for the glory of what he say in front of him. Not for anyone’s approval or grace, but rather for those that were not looking for the art. He wrote from the strongest thing around him at the time, his heart…just like the Romantics did with nature. His craft and art is what he looked to in order to give back to nature. The way he is moved so much by poetry and creativity reminds me of “On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer”, by John Keats. Both of these poems and their poets love poetry so much that the sight of another great poem excites them. They wrote to better the world of literature. Also, Robert Frost’s themes and references to nature reminded me of many poets from earlier studies…Coleridge, Byron, Yeats…all of which had a great respect for what inspired them everyday.

"Piano"-D.H. Lawrence

I chose to address the sounds and rhythms of D.H. Lawrence’s poem, "Piano". Right at the start, the title itself is a strong source of imagery for our senses. We know what a piano sounds like, what it looks like, and mostly what it feels like. I am a pianist and I understand what Lawrence is talking about here. The piano has the power to take you back to a special moment in your past. It can also propell you into the uture causeing you to dream about things you wish you had or are working for. A well-played piano can invoke the mind to engage in the musice or wander amelessly and pleasureably through a daydream. There are a few rhetorical devices in use. An occurance of consonance can be found in line 3, “tingling strings”, which expresses a sense of the sounds a piano makes. Not only to the strings inside the instrument vibreate or “tingle”, but the music is sometimes so beautiful that the listener begins to tingle as well. I appreciate that the lines are written in sentences. They are almost like phrases of music that can rap around in to the next measure. The lyrics of this poem do not stop at the end of the line, but rather with the punctuation given. As in music, vocal or instrumental, you breathe where the music tells to breathe, you pause or continue as the music fortells. Every beat is accounted for along the bars and staffs. I like the AABB rhyme scheme. It makes the piece easy to delve into. Some people find it difficult to read poems that should be read using the punctuation for breaks. But with a generally easy rhyme scheme, like Lawrence has used here, the rhyme is natural and flowing. Lastly, I think the poems rhythm is important to its tone. Like I said, the lines read like a song…a song of rememberence. The speaker is looking back onto an easier time, a fonder moment than wherever he is now. Since the rhythm is melodic, it brings a sense of longing and desire.