Poetry Anthology

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Table of Contents

British Poem: She, To Him (Thomas Hardy)

Long: American Poem: Alone With Everybody (Charles Bukowski)

Long: Poems From Different Part of World: I Do Not Love You Expect Because I Love You (Pablo Neruda)

Short: Gender Balance: Mad Girl’s Love Song (Sylvia Plath)

Poem Written Before 1800: A Cradle Song (William Blake)

Poem Written from 1800-1899: Dedication (Lewis Caroll)

Short: Poem Written After 1900: If You Forget Me (Pablo Neruda)

Long: Song: Samson (Regina Spektor)

Short: Sonnet: Sonnet XVII (Pablo Neruda)

Romantic Poem: She Was a Phantom of Delight (William Wordsworth)

She, To Him
Thomas Hardy

When you shall see me lined by tool of Time,
My lauded beauties carried off from me,
My eyes no longer stars as in their prime,
My name forgot of Maiden Fair and Free;
When in your being heart concedes to mind,
And judgment, though you scarce its process know,
Recalls the excellencies I once enshrined,
And you are irked that they have withered so:
Remembering that with me lies not the blame,
That Sportsman Time but rears his brood to kill,
Knowing me in my soul the very same—
One who would die to spare you touch of ill!—
Will you not grant to old affection’s claim
The hand of friendship down Life’s sunless hill?

Commentary:The author in this poem is speaking about the relationship and complexities between love, physical appearance, and what we would say is “on the inside”. The author is not the same as he or she once was but their soul still is. While his or her eyes no longer shine like they once did there soul is still the same that would die before they let the one they cared about be hurt. This poem is meaningful because it speaks to loves relation in the soul while the physical is changing.

Alone With Everybody
Charles Bukowski

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.
there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.
nobody ever finds
the one.
the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill
nothing else
fills.

[pic]

Commentary:This poem by Charles Bukowski spotlights the authors heartwrenching take on the ultimate quest of finding “the one”. With extreme pessimism Bukowski writes that “nobody finds the one” and the spot in our heart that desperately longs for that one person will never be satisfied. The poem’s beginning stanzas take about the creation of a human in Bukowski’s mind. He puts into words that we are just sacks of flesh and bone that have a mind and occasionally a soul. From these very first stanzas the tone is immediately set and the reader understands what Bukowski thinks of the topics of love and the thought that there is “a one”. It seems as though to me that Bukowski believes we as humans are not all that special and that it is ridiculous to believe there was someone who was made for another person perfectly. We are all just sacks of flesh with no fate and certainly on creator who is handcrafting individuals. The impression I received was that if we are not made special ourselves, though could anyone be made special for us? Some people search all there lives to find someone who does not exist and Bukowski writes that “there is no chance at all: we are all trapped by a singular fate”. The tone, messages, and views on love remind me of how the protagonist in Albert Camus’ The Stranger would view the topic of love. This poem really caught my eye because it had the absolute most pessimistic but realistic view on the topic that I came across. I personally see as saying truths, but saying them in the most pessimistic way. I do not believe that anyone is made for eachother but unlike...
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