The Waste Land and Other Poems eBook Ú Land and

The Waste Land and Other Poems Hey three stars from me for poetry is good Why Because I don't like the stuff Yep I'm a savage heathen I LOVED the stuff as a teen I wrote notebooks filled with poetry or at least something like poetry back then Somewhere along the line I lost my taste for it and now I can barely stand itEnter TS Eliot and his highly vaunted The Waste Land In some distant past when I was in college or maybe it was even high school I was told by teachers just how good this poem was I don't remember any of them explaining why We never read it in class although it is fairly short I don't even recall being assigned the poem to read on my own So I didn't However not having read something that everyone else has read really bothers me The title floats about in my subconscious mind occasionally whispering to me What War and Peace That book you haven't read yet but everyone else has Yes that's still sitting unread on the shelf in the other roomjust a few feet away I hear it's good But it's of a book for real readers My brain is a dick But it does get me off my ass and so I finally recently read The Waste Land and Other Poems not to mention War and PeaceOnce upon a time schools taught childrenI was going to go on but no that sums it up Once upon a time schools taught children They were made to learn Greek and Latin They knew the classics And some of them later became writers themselves and they wrote poems like those found in this book filled with references lost on ill educated clods like myself One day when I grow up I'm going to learn how to understand The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock and Sweeney Among the Nightingales But this is not that dayNo these days I must be satisfied with remaining mired in my miserable ignorance pleased to comprehend a mere portion of these poems I am at least thankful to have grasped and even enjoyed parts of The Waste Land and others To be honest I wished I hadn't understood some of these because they were stomach churning Sing songy purple poetry Is that a phrase It is now whose titles I'll refrain from mentioning so as not to sour anyone's favorites made me gag cringe and convulse Yes it's better than anything I've ever written but that doesn't improve it any in my mind This is not for me That rating includes three very subjective stars It's merely my opinion part of which takes into account my enjoyment level while reading That pool was barely half full My ode to TS EliotT S Eliot You walked among the starsIn your words light trails blazingMaster of the modernRuler of the poeticThere is and was no poet to compareYour mythology and legend stand immenseBehold the waste land of the worldBehold the glorious prose of a world shakerThough some have called theeMighty and dreadful plagiaristSuch slander upholds your greatnessThe potency of your reinventionThere is a power to you in rewriting the elouentSo behold TS EliotA masterful poetOne who walked among the starsAnd brought the heavens a little nearerWhat can a poet doThere is a simplicity to the greatest poetry And at once there is a complexity There is a simplicity in that the greatest works of poetry don't contain wordiness or explicitly state their intentions They strip back language to allow for a nice flow and rhythm to what they are doing But at the same time there is a complexity generated by a presumed sense of intent and knowledge The poet assumes that you will get from the scarcity of language used what they are aiming to convey And that is part of the beauty of language that because the poet strips everything down there is so much which you can read into and draw as your own understanding of what the poem is aboutAnd that is what I sensed in The Wasteland and the other poems The Wasteland is universally accepted as one of the most important pieces of modernism regardless of all the arguments about it being a plagiarised piece of fiction For an interesting breakdown on that idea of plagiarism and literature read this article And no matter how you read Eliot's work as a reinvention of older myths and narratives; as a depiction of a destroyed post war landscape and the people affected by that world; or as a beautiful piece of art; there is so much to gain from reading this work It really all proves that simply because older ideas are drawn upon and referenced that it doesn't have to be stealingUpon further reading and analysis it has come to my attention that what Eliot does in this masterpiece is to both play off the worlds of the common peasants and bourgeoise with those who would be considered academic royalty He sets up a comparison of white collar and blue collar workers essentially creating a poem that works like a giant chessgame In some ways a game of oneupmanship in which Eliot tells the reader that he is better than them but still sympathetic to them This can be seen in the classical references to high forms of literary art that Eliot draws upon But there are also elements in which Eliot shows that he is not supercilious and in fact appears to both sympathise and empathise with the proletariat working class the second section for instance and in lines such as consider Phlebas particularly seem to suggest this Regardless of how you want to read it I challenge you to go and read one of the great works of literature It is a notoriously difficult poem to understand and I know I got very little of it but it was powerful and moving And I am now looking forward to further discussion and dissection of this in upcoming classes Isn't the greatest power of literature apparent in how it lives on after we have read it As a poet myself I would thank T S Eliot for what he did by writing the most debated and influential poem of the previous and the current this far century The Waste Land had shaped an entire generation of poets giving them the free will to explore their thoughts without any fear of being judged by the meter expression comes to Eliot naturally and The Waste Land is just an exceptional example of that It's still relevant contemporary and a must read For those who understand Poetry The Waste Land will never be second on the lists that they make I consider The Hollow Men one of the greatest poems in the English language and certainly the greatest from the 20th century Here’s the start of it We are the hollow menWe are the stuffed menLeaning togetherHeadpiece filled with straw AlasOur dried voices whenWe whisper togetherAre uiet and meaninglessAs wind in dry grassOr rats' feet over broken glassIn our dry cellarShape without form shade without colourParalysed force gesture without motion;Those who have crossedWith direct eyes to death's other KingdomRemember us—if at all—not as lostViolent souls but onlyAs the hollow menThe stuffed men It just captures so much of the era and so much of the desolation and emptiness that followed the war; it reflects the melancholy that swept through the world It’s a sad poem It feels cold detached and lonely And I love it because it is so effective If I was reviewing this book based on my opinion of that poem alone then this would be a five star rating But alas I am not because there is also a poem I detest in here I consider The Waste Land one of the worse poems in the English language because of it’s incomprehensibleness Every time I read it I get lost Critically speaking it a weird and wonderful construction but it is so inaccessible I’ve read it several times over the years and it really doesn’t get any easier So for me this is a very mixed bag worth a read though Thomas Stearns Eliot A lot is hidden between those three words A whole world perhaps A depth measured by many oceans a mystery viewed from bewitching lenses a song marrying numerous notes a candle thriving on inexhaustible waxDuring his writing season that spanned over three decades T S Eliot penned many evocative and luscious poems with his pen always leaving a signature cryptic mark over his dotted sheets Often a source of delusion to an enthusiastic poetic heart his labyrinthine lyricism was like a lashing downpour on a parched heartland one surrendered to the torrent at the risk of bearing undecipherable strokes on one’s soul I belong to this clan In this volume his celebrated and most popular poems rub shoulders with their relatively lesser known but still dense cousins And while my soul may curse my mind for being picky about Eliot’s poems I might go asunder for a while and share with you three gems whose themes narratives cadence and wholeness can be adorned by adjectives from the ‘superlative’ family alone THE WASTE LAND In his most celebrated poem his thoughts meandering through five reverberating alleys of melancholy and despair purport to create an image that oscillates between our meretricious values and late realizations It begins with The Burial of the Dead where a collage of pictures bearing subdued trees stony lands dried showers and insipid sun leaves a young girl with a heavy heart who is further introduced to the throbbing futility of it all And I will show you something different from eitherYour shadow at morning striding behind youOr your shadow at evening rising to meet you;I will show you fear in a handful of dust Leading us to the next alleys Eliot plays A Game of Chess issues A Fire Sermon condemns us to a Death by Water and lets us hear What The Thunder Said All through this trail we are trembling; with remorse or excitement is something we can’t guess without ambiguity Touching the themes of vengeance repentance nostalgia penance and decay he halts at ”Datta Dayadhvan and Damyata” as the final rousing call This mantra in Sanskrit translates to “Give Sacrifice and Control” respectively This trinity capable of resurrecting our being in a dignified and buoyant fabric is left for the reader to comprehend and validate Datta what have we givenMy friend blood shaking my heartThe awful daring of a moment’s surrenderWhich an age of prudence can never retractBy this and this only we have existedWhich is not to be found in our obituariesOr in memories draped by the beneficent spiderOr under seals broken by the lean solicitorIn our empty rooms GERONTION Thou hast nor youth nor ageBut as it were an after dinner sleepDreaming of both Thus starts this splendid poem which is a mighty paean to a person’s journey from youth to mellow And as always detected by a fatigued eye this journey is laden with discolored beliefs and stung steps After such knowledge what forgiveness Think nowHistory has many cunning passages contrived corridorsAnd issues deceives with whispering ambitionsGuides us by vanities Think nowShe gives when our attention is distractedAnd what she gives gives with such supple confusionsThat the giving famishes the craving Gives too lateWhat’s not believed in or is still believedIn memory only reconsidered passion ASH WEDNESDAY We are always in a vicious circle of creation and destruction This engaging activity provides momentum to our lives and reinforces our core strength I rejoice that things are as they are andI renounce the blessed faceAnd renounce the voiceBecause I cannot hope to turn againConseuently I rejoice having to construct somethingUpon which to rejoice A pity then that we can’t always control this rigmarole What if dotting the circle we reach a point from where a deviation threatens to derail our movement propelling our faith engine to go kaput The tumultuous fall then becomes impossible to confine in words for it pervades everything our skin our bones our heart Should we be foolish enough to expect a hand to pull us out of this ditch at this hour when all we have done till now in our sturdy capacity is overlook meek yet expectant eyes Is hope of such benevolence an absurdity Well there is someone indeed to whom we can always look upto Will the veiled sister prayFor children at the gateWho will not go away and cannot prayPray for those who chose and oppose Shantih Shantih Shantih The Peace that passeth understandingThese poems are like pearls; the metaphorical oyster may pose a formidable guard but caress it with patience and stimulate it aloud and it will open up to a mesmerizing world of mellifluous prose and inspiring gist The Waste Land and Other Poems Thomas Stearns‬ ‎Eliot TS Eliot 1888 1945April is the cruellest month breeding Lilacs out of the dead land mixing Memory and desire stirring Dull roots with spring rainWinter kept us warm covering Earth in forgetful snow feeding A little life with dried tubers Summer surprised us coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade And went on in sunlight into the Hofgarten And drank coffee and talked for an hourAnd when we were children staying at the archduke’s My cousin’s he took me out on a sled And I was frightened He said Marie Mariehold on tight And down we wentIn the mountains there you feel free I read much of the night and go south in the winter What are the roots that clutch what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish Son of man You cannot say or guessتاریخ نخستین خوانش روز بیست و هفتم ماه سپتامبر سال 1972 میلادیعنوان دشت سترون و اشعار دیگر؛ اثر توماس استرنز الیوت تیاس الیوت؛ مترجم پرویز لشگری؛ مشخصات نشر تهران، انتشارت نیل، بهار 1351، در 160 ص؛ موضوع شعر معاصر جهان سده 20 مدشت سترون، دفن مردهآوریل ستمگرترین ماه هاست؛ از زمین مرده، گلهای یاس میرویاند؛ یاد و هوس در هم میآمیزد؛ با باران، بهار ریشه های بیحال را، برمیانگیزدزمستان ما را گرم نگه داشت؛ زمین را در برف فراموشی پوشانید؛ با خشکیده ساقه های زیرزمینی؛ زندگی ناچیزی را پرورانید تابستان بر ما شبیخون زد؛ ا شربیانی The Unreal Wastelands Labyrinths What Memory Keeps and Throws Away; An Exercise in Recollection in flashes and distortions You Hypocrite lecteur – mon semblable mon frère Chimes follow the Fire SermonA rat crept softly through the vegetation;departed A cold blast at the back So rudely forc'd like PhilomelaIt was Tiresias' it was he who doomed all menthrobbing between two lives knowing whichEt O ces voix d'enfants chantant dans la coupoleExcuse my demotic FrenchLet us go then him that carbuncular young man and you In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverseYou may come or go but speak not of MichelangeloWhen there is not solitude even in the MountainsWhen even the sound of water could dry your thirstThen you can lift your hands and sing of dead pine treesHave you yet been ledthrough paths of insidious intentthrough every tedious argumentTo that overwhelming uestionGentile or JewO you who turn the wheel and look to windwardConsider Phlebas who was once handsome and tall as youSweet Thames sweating oil and tarSweet Thames run on softly till I end my songfor I speak not loud or longfor I speak not clear or cleanfor I speak in the hoarse whispers of the last manfor it was I who murdered youand Ganga right under the nose of mighty HimavantYou who were living is now dead We who were living are now dying With a little patienceBreak The Bough and hang yourself from it Sweeney Prufrock The Fisher King and the sterile others all will follow firstlike corpses etherised on well lit tablesRemember me me Tiresias once for we are all him yet notThe present will always look at the mirrorand see only a WastelandThe Past is always the heavenly spring running dry nowPerspectiveThy name is PoetryLondon Bridge is falling down falling down falling downThese fragments you have shored against my ruinsWhy is it impossible to say just what I meanDatta Dayadhvam Damyata shantih shantih shantih You Hypocrite reader my likeness my brother Do I dare Disturb the universe The first three published poetic volumes of TS Eliot career were a sudden surprise upon the literary community but it was the third that became a centerpiece of modernist poetry Published within a 5 year period during which not only Eliot’s style was refined but also influenced by his personal life and health Throughout the rest of his career Eliot would build upon and around these works that would eventually lead to the Noble Prize in Literature and a prominent place in today’s literature classesWhile I am right now in no way ready to critiue Eliot’s work I will do so in the volume it was presented in While the publishers and editors wanted to present Eliot’s work with his personal Notes or footnotes in the back of the book to preserve the author’s intention of presentation over the course of reading the exercise of going from the front of the book to the back to understand the footnotes became tiresome And while reading “The Waste Land” I had three places marked in my book so as to read the poem and then look at Eliot’s own Notes and the publisher’s footnotes which uickly became a trialThis is a book I’m going to have to re read over and over again for years to come to truly appreciate Eliot’s work If you’re a better rounded literary individual than I am then this volume will probably be for you as it presents Eliot’s work in the forefront with no intruding footnotes at the bottom of the page; however if you are a reader like myself who wants to enjoy Eliot but needs the help of footnotes I suggest getting another volume in which footnotes are closer to the text they amply Eliot is such a pompous old fart how could anyone not love him When I was still in high school if you wanted to be in the group of people who had any pretensions as ‘intellectuals’ or whatever else it was we had pretensions of – Eliot was de rigueur I know large slabs of this poem by heart and when I worked as a house painter would uote it at length at the top of my voice when I ran out of Irish songs to sing while I rolled the walls – which probably misses the point of the poem but I love how it feels in my mouth – like having your mouth full of chocolates and then coffee and then brandy no better CointreauThere is something Romantic about this poem despite it being the definitive Modern poem – all that stuff about “The chair she sat in” could be straight from Byron or WordsworthI love the jokes the sex in a punt and the pocket full of currants and I still love all of the horrible sexual adventures that are all ‘whip it in whip it out and wipe it’ for the men and so totally unsatisfying for the women And that bit about fore suffering all enacted on this same divan or bed with the wee typist woman and her drying combinations is just so damn good One final patronising kiss and gropes his way finding the stairs unlitAll the same this is one of the masterworks of the language some of it still forms a lump in my throat as the currents rise and fall and I pass through all the stages of my youth and ageOkay so maybe I wouldn’t uite agree with him now that ‘if you want to read me learn my language’ – pretty much meaning learn the whole of European poetry to read a single poem – but very young men find this is exactly the sort of thing that draws one to Nietzsche – and Eliot was always my favourite right wing wanker Few readers need any introduction to the work of the most influential poet of the twentieth century In addition to the title poem this selecion includes The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock Gerontion Ash Wednesday and other poems from Mr Eliot's early and middle work In ten years' time wrote Edmund Wilson in Axel0s Castle 1931 Eliot has left upon English poetry a mark unmistakable than that of any other poet writing in English In 1948 Mr Eliot was awarded the Nobel Prize for his work as trail blazing pioneer of modern poetry

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