Analysis and Critique
Love is the great poet of life, and how unfortunate it is that poetry is not something thought to be appreciated or easily liked, and certainly not something that matches today’s world and its way of thinking. It explains the lack of romance and lack of sentiments once felt in the days long gone by. Sadly there are so many out of touch with intimacy that derives from true love.
In the case of love, poetry is also considered boring and lifeless, and/or like the Bible, difficult to understand or have time for, and that is pretty much the way it is with everything and everyone with intimacy, “it’s too fufu.” They consider having sex as being love.
Poetry is the messenger and benefactor to love. There are no rules when it comes to poetry and for sure not love. There is no right or wrong if with a pure heart. There is no being grammatically correct and contextually on point. There is nothing to hinder how poetry displays and illustrates love or feelings or emotions. There are no rules that say how it can or cannot be expressed, especially when it is expressed from the heart. If with the heart there are no penalties, then why is it treated like a crime? Why should there be any to criticize? Poetry and love are like hand and glove—with Love being the star of the show with poetry playing a huge part. Poetry embraces love and has a way of capturing the moments' love becomes intimate with two hearts — and life becomes melodious.
There are poems written by men and women who obviously met the One and Only reason such a wonderful entity exists, love. Love is needed ingredient which gives life meaning to everything created and existing purpose. It never grows old or fades; not real love Anne Bradstreet poem confirms, “That when we live no more, we may live ever.”
Love within itself has a language all of its own. Unfortunately, though, very few know or understand what it speaks and what it feels like to really love. The language confounds the many because love is spiritual and only does the spiritual understand spiritual. There’s but one I know is spiritual and that is Elohim, God—everything that is good comes from Him.
He is love and unless you have really met and spent time with Him to have a relationship, this love you can never know or understand or belief truly exist or can exist without Elohim. Without knowing the [One] who is love, hearts will fail, and life grows dim and empty, and like an unread book relationships ends-up on the shelf added to all the rest collecting dust. Furthermore, it’s the absences of love that marriages do not work and families fail and relationship faultier like they do. Eventually become the poem written by Edna St. Vincent Millay, “What Lips my Lips Have Kissed?” (pp. 939), “What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain under my head till morning; but the rain is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh upon the glass and listen for reply, and in my heart there stirs a quiet pain for unremembered lads that not again will turn to me at midnight with a cry…”. Love makes for a strong foundation that is solid in every way. And who but knows it best, but the one meeting God? Love exposes the hidden things of the heart covered over by the shadows of the forgotten and once was and could have been lifetime relationships, but for the wrong choice, all is left are countless regrets.
Poetry is an attribute to good communication, and a sweet-smell of a breathtakingly beautiful garden with an array of wonderful flowers blended with the many exuberant colors and elements all working together. All that’s required is tender loving care—to accomplish an artfully and brilliant garden for a lifetime of romances and lasting relationships to share with that special someone. Love is a faithful and devoted friend and catalyst to life’s better moments.
Love is a kind of je ne sais quoi. Robert Burns witnessed it for himself obviously that he wrote about, true love so eloquently, “Oh, My Love is like A Red, Red Rose,” in 1796, (pp. 818). His poetry exemplifies the depth and beauty love symphonizes with each line he’s written, “So fair art thou, my bonny lass, so deep in love am I; And I will love thee still, my dear, till a’ the seas gang dry.” “Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear, and the rocks melt wi’ the sun’ and I will love thee still, my dear, while the sands o’ life shall run.” It is impossible for love to be this deeply felt and then wrote about with such evince.
He had to have met the One from where love flows. Here’s an article written by Peter Hughes and Andrew Hill, titled “A Short Biography of Robert Burns.” They state in their article, “Like the God of William Channing, Burns’ deity was an “object of our reverential awe and grateful adoration” from whose “divine promise” no one is excluded saves by themselves. God is “almighty, and all bounteous” and Jesus Christ, “a great Personage.” Burns believed that in the end, it is the quality of our lives which counts. He summed his faith in Jamie Dean’s grace: “Lord, grant that we may lead a good life; for a good life makes a good end; at least it helps well!”
For all reasons and purposes poetry with its versatility plays like flowers in a garden poetry there are many varieties and fragrances. There’s the red rose, some wild and confusing, and others have nothing attractive about them or catch the eye. And like flowers poetry can have an unpleasant odor and in a matter of speaking; cause you to wheeze, sneeze and gag from the stench released in the air. It’s the bitterness, disapproval, and disdain for other life that causes the stench.
For instance, there are two poems in particular that compare to flowers that carry unpleasant odors, they would be poems written by May Swenson, “Women,” and the other “Please Fire Me,” written by Deborah Garrison. The odor they give off is the kind of stench that causes negativity. In what way do they cause stench? May Swenson wrote, “The pegs of their ears so familiar and dear to the trusting fists to be chafed feelingly and then unfeelingly to be joyfully ridden rockingly ridden until the restored egos dismount and the legs stride away,” (pp. 818). Then there is Deborah Garrison’s poem, “Please Fire Me”; “I’ve never been sicker. Do I have to stare into his eyes and sympathize? If I want my job I do. Well, I think I’m through with the working world, through with warming eggs and being Zen-like in my detachment from all things—Ego,” (pp. 761).
Given the comparisons, it’s quite clear who the ones are who knows God or met Him and those who do not like Him for reasons of their own. Here is a quote taken from the poem, “I Saw You Walking,” written by Deborah Garrison, “The age of someone’s father–and I trembled for your [luck], for your broad, dusted back, half shirted, walking away; I should have dropped to my knees to thank God you were alive, ‘O my God, in whom I [don’t] believe.’”
This is an article written by Susan Elizabeth Howe of Brigham Young University, she wrote about May Swenson, titled “May Swenson’s Spiritual Quest,” that states the following: As early as her college years, she told her friend, Edith Welch, “religion . . . seems like a redundancy for a poet” (qtd. in Knudson and Bigelow 34), implying that the work of the poet somehow overlaps with or is similar to the work of religion. In “The Poet as Anti specialist” in 1965, Swenson quoted Aldous Huxley: “The world is poetical intrinsically, and what it means is simply itself. Its significance is the enormous mystery of its existence and of our awareness of its existence” (97).
The point is, whenever God is not present and nor the center of anyone’s life, the outcome is always the same. It leads to bitterness, resentment, negativity, and crassness, backbiting, lasciviousness, rivaling, evil talk and wickedness. In the case of the poems written by Deborah Garrison and May Swenson and others, it is toward men. In a garden like theirs (metaphorically speaking), there is no need to till the soil, or fertilize it and rid it of its weeds. It best to save time and effort, because all that’s going to grow in this garden are weeds.
Since the feminist movement (which is one of the worse kinds of evil to have invaded life). Things only got worst. If there’s anything positive, it is difficult to see; for all the negative ramifications it has caused and all the damage it has done to home and family, it’s an insult to poetry. Per example, romance is robbed and the wonderment of being married, being a family, trusting love and need for God in ones’ life is rapidly being stripped away. It is apparent the denial of Him has done the greatest harm to them all. Look at all the violence and lack of respect for life and each other. The home is in a flux and its balance is thrown way off. How is it even possible for life to go on when divided?
I thank God for poets like Shakespeare, Bradstreet, Burns, and others like Keats, Shelley, Byron, Wordsworth, Coleridge and Blake who still had an admiration for God and treasured everything about love and put to ink to keep hope alive and love real.
William Shakespeare also believed. To confirm here is an article that states when asked: “Did Shakespeare believe in God?” The answer was, “Yes he did. Well, at least he made a point of making sure everyone thought he did. Atheism was a serious crime in Elizabethan England, as Christopher Marlowe found out, so to explicitly declare atheism was all but unheard of. Many critics might argue that Shakespeare hid his beliefs in his writings. This writer agrees.”
This man Shakespeare had a great many wonderful things to say about love and being in love, even though it is no secret he cheated on his wife. In spite of the fidelity, how can he speak of love in the way each of them spoke and not believe (at least) enough to acknowledge God is real? Though His words get ignored and people go about life as they please; still you cannot deny poems this beautiful can only come from a heart that knows Him. Shakespeare wrote, “My Mistress’ Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun,” (pp. 808 and 809): “I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare….”
Oftentimes, the poetic uses earthy metaphors to make strong his point in expressing clearly his devotion to fair maiden. Such things as roses, time, space, universe, seasons or other metaphorical descriptives as was used in William Shakespeare’s “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun.” He also wrote, “If snow is white, why then her breasts are dun?” Dun is a dull grayish-brown color he used to describe the color of her skin.
But here is one he wrote. Though short and whimsical, it is sweet and heartwarming. It has no title, but it is signature by William Shakespeare, “Time is very slow for those who wait; Very fast for those who are scared; very long for those who lament; Very short for those who celebrate, but for those who love, time is eternal.” There is no questing about what he means, or knowing what the tone is, nor is any metaphors necessary or if it is stress or non-stress—to arrive at the theme. It’s quite clear he is talking about “love.”
“To my Dear and Loving Husband,” by Anne Bradstreet is intelligible, she’s written this poem to her husband. This is during the time women were to be seen and not heard. A time refuted more often by feminist that saw themselves, typical housewives and silent partners. But a time no less, when things were far better at home and much fewer divorces and families split—having two families rather than one. Nothing makes life more worth living than true love and a touch of romance to keep the spark going. But even if there is no romance, love is able to stand on its own. Anne proved that that is all it took and was necessary. It is quite transparent their relationship was secure. True love is the glue that holds people and families together. Nothing more is ever required. For a fact, love makes the world stable, secure and go round.
People say they are in love but the reactions of the many poses the question, “How many are there that knows or can for that matter say right off the top of their head what is love; when asked, “what is love, and how do know it’s love?” They stumble around like they were in the dark for the answer and what they normally come up with is based on conditional love.
The Bible defines love this way: “Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy, love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away.”
When true love is in control, it makes marriages last, it brings families closer, makes society a better and safer environment to live, and the world a better place to be, which proves God is necessary for life to exist. Anne in the time the feminist movement got started proved that not all marriages are equal, “If ever two were one, then surely we; Thy love is such I can no way repay; the heavens reward thee manifold I pray; Then while we live, in love let’s so preserver, that when we live no more, we may live ever.”
Let’s face it, love is the pinnacle of life. It is not acted out on stages or becomes a bestseller. Love cannot be bought or sold or turned into a script that ends at some movie theater. Real love unearths the hidden evils that are revealed by its light—even when poetry is in motion. No one says “I love you,” better than true love.
It was Alfred Lord Tennyson who said, 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” And William Blake who said, “I am in you and you in me, mutual in divine love.” Anne Bradstreet dream came true, “Then while we live, in love lets so preserver, that when we live no more, we may live ever,” (pp. 830).
Garrison, Deborah. "Please Fire Me." Literature, Reading, Reacting, Writing,” 7th Edition, edited by Kirszner, Laurie C., and Mandell, Stephen R., 2011, pp. 761.
The articles below were written by:
Susan Elizabeth Howe of Brigham Young University, she wrote about May Swenson, titled “May Swenson’s Spiritual Quest”
Peter Hughes and Andrew Hill, titled “A Short Biography of Robert Burns.”
Alfred Lord Tennyson, 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”
William Blake, “I am in you and you in me, mutual in divine love.”