DebateGate
General Category => 3DHS => Topic started by: The_Professor on January 20, 2008, 10:50:37 AM
-
Dear Abby:
My husband is a liar and a cheat. He has cheated on me from the
beginning, and, when I confront him, he denies everything. What's
worse, everyone knows that he cheats on me. It is so humiliating.
Also, since he lost his job six years ago, he hasn't even looked for a
new one. All he does all day is smoke cigars, cruise around and shoot
the breeze with his buddies while I have to work to pay the bills.
Since our daughter went away to college he doesn't even pretend to
like me and hints that I may be a lesbian. What should I do?
Signed: Clueless
Dear Clueless:
Grow up and dump him. Good grief, woman. You don't need him anymore!
You're a U. S. Senator from New York running for President of the
United States. ACT LIKE ONE!!!
Signed: Abby
<source unknown>
-
Hee hee, yuck yuck.
Now write one for Huckabee, Romney, and Giulani.
-
Ok, I'll see if I can find 'em! :)
-
If you could create one on your own, that might prove to be both droll and a valuable learning experience in expository and satirical writing for you.
-
Naw, Plane is the poet. Perhaps he could, but I simply don't "have" it. Why don't YOU take stab?
-
Dear Political Abby,
After several bad marrages I am finally In a marrage that I think will last, unfortunately I am attempting to get hired for a better job and many members of the hiring committee look askance at my life history. How can I persuede these members to ignore my failed marrages and consentrate on my qualifications for the job?
Signed ,
Big Apple Daddy
Dear B.A.D.
Are you sure that you want to work for such a demanding and unreasonable committee? Just how good is this Job anyway ? Never the less ,If you are determined to try, remember that the ones that are hard headed might not number enough to block your application.You should consentrate on the members of the committee who are reasonable and might overlook unimportant problems such as infidelity, don't even worry about the "unreasonable " ones, you lost them when they saw you in a dress.
Signed Political Abby
BTW thank you Professor for your confidence , but should someone who writes a poem only occasionally be so complemented?
-
Dear Political Abby,
After several bad marrages I am finally In a marrage that I think will last, unfortunately I am attempting to get hired for a better job and many members of the hiring committee look askance at my life history. How can I persuede these members to ignore my failed marrages and consentrate on my qualifications for the job?
Signed ,
Big Apple Daddy
Dear B.A.D.
Are you sure that you want to work for such a demanding and unreasonable committee? Just how good is this Job anyway ? Never the less ,If you are determined to try, remember that the ones that are hard headed might not number enough to block your application.You should consentrate on the members of the committee who are reasonable and might overlook unimportant problems such as infidelity, don't even worry about the "unreasonable " ones, you lost them when they saw you in a dress.
Signed Political Abby
BTW thank you Professor for your confidence , but should someone who writes a poem only occasionally be so complemented?
Perhaps quality can be considered more important than quantity?
-
Plane, how about this?
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-
Plane, how about this?
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Frost is great , Burns is also great.
Is there for honest poverty
That hangs his head, an' a' that
The coward slave, we pass him by
We dare be poor for a' that
For a' that, an' a' that
The rank is but the guinea's stamp
The man's the gowd(gold) for a' that
What though on hamely(homely) fare we dine
Wear hoddin grey(course wollen cloth), an' a' that
Gie(give) fools their silks, and knaves their wine
A man's a man, for a' that.....
"While Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things, The fate of empires and the fall of kings; While quacks of State must each produce his plan, And even children lisp the Rights of Man; Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention, The Rights of Woman merit some attention."
- Robert Burns
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gjr5boTgis4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOBcFt5tevY&NR=1
-
Does anything beat the dark, Black Irish imagery of Yeats?
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
THE SECOND COMING
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
I especially love the last two lines.
-
Does anything beat the dark, Black Irish imagery of Yeats?
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
THE SECOND COMING
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
I especially love the last two lines.
Yep, real classics. They bring forth the wimzy...
-
he darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
===========================================================
I agree that this is a great image, but exactly what is the rough beast in question: the Apocalypse personified? Jesus?
The Apocalypse is supposedly the will of God and therefore unquestionable divine, not just good. Is Jesus a 'rough beast'?
Humans have always wished for some huge all-conquering THING that would come and impose Perfection and Justice on the unfair and iniquitous universe. There is somethin apocalyptic in many religions, I think starting with Zoroastrianism and Manicheaism.
I see this as similar to such myths of perfection as the Unicorn, Prince Charming, and the Man on a White Stallion. NIce to imagine, but bloody unlikely and totally not in keeping with any logical analysis of the universe.
-
he darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
===========================================================
I agree that this is a great image, but exactly what is the rough beast in question: the Apocalypse personified? Jesus?
The Apocalypse is supposedly the will of God and therefore unquestionable divine, not just good. Is Jesus a 'rough beast'?
Humans have always wished for some huge all-conquering THING that would come and impose Perfection and Justice on the unfair and iniquitous universe. There is somethin apocalyptic in many religions, I think starting with Zoroastrianism and Manicheaism.
I see this as similar to such myths of perfection as the Unicorn, Prince Charming, and the Man on a White Stallion. NIce to imagine, but bloody unlikely and totally not in keeping with any logical analysis of the universe.
Poetry in its nature is not analitical , it brings forth emotion and image explores the shadows of mind and heart where the poorly understood things have their reign.
Analisis of poetry seaparates the thing from its nature.
What did this poem mean to you?
I had diffrent thoughts, the power of this poem exites the hearer deeply and all the unsaid things of the poem are filled in by the images the mind produces in the listening.
To me the world at war andthe uncertainty of the future ,prophacys of the antichrist, came to mind and the great beast that would imitate Christ .
-
Ahhh , the Antichrist. The fake Christ that for some cunning reason God is going to allow to pop down to co0nfuse everyone who fails to comprehend the vast gibberish of the Apocalypse.
How bloody likely is this to happen? Really.
-
Ahhh , the Antichrist. The fake Christ that for some cunning reason God is going to allow to pop down to co0nfuse everyone who fails to comprehend the vast gibberish of the Apocalypse.
How bloody likely is this to happen? Really.
It is prophesied , what elese can I tell you?
To a beleiver like myself, it is certain and unstoppable.
But prophecy is intentionally a challenge to understand , so that the unerstanding is a gift given to those who pray for it and need it , I must not need to understand all of them because there are several I can't explain.
-
he darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
===========================================================
I agree that this is a great image, but exactly what is the rough beast in question: the Apocalypse personified? Jesus?
The Apocalypse is supposedly the will of God and therefore unquestionable divine, not just good. Is Jesus a 'rough beast'?
Humans have always wished for some huge all-conquering THING that would come and impose Perfection and Justice on the unfair and iniquitous universe. There is somethin apocalyptic in many religions, I think starting with Zoroastrianism and Manicheaism.
I see this as similar to such myths of perfection as the Unicorn, Prince Charming, and the Man on a White Stallion. NIce to imagine, but bloody unlikely and totally not in keeping with any logical analysis of the universe.
Poetry in its nature is not analitical , it brings forth emotion and image explores the shadows of mind and heart where the poorly understood things have their reign.
Analisis of poetry seaparates the thing from its nature.
What did this poem mean to you?
I had diffrent thoughts, the power of this poem exites the hearer deeply and all the unsaid things of the poem are filled in by the images the mind produces in the listening.
To me the world at war andthe uncertainty of the future ,prophacys of the antichrist, came to mind and the great beast that would imitate Christ .
Yeats was deeply spiritual, not meaning religious here.
He was a leading member of the Golden Dawn, and I think what he meant had to be considered from the bowels of the character of his belief, casually compared to 'his faith,' which was more Christian persecutee rather than Christian.
People who deal with occult (meaning hidden, understood only by the initiated, and not meaning satanic) from the whole spectrum of possible occult currents are of the Old religion, that which was before Christianity came, the pivot probably signposted by Constantine.
Many in the occult sciences see a lot of politics in Christianity--for one thing, when you cry for monotheism, you are closing down all the small shops.
"twenty centuries were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle . . ."
Clearly here he refers to what he sees as an inimical history of violent political chaos, the true result of the "rocking cradle" (Baby Jesus). This line, to me, decries the coming of Christianity.
The "rough beast" refers to its culmination, which he paints in dour hue, and it is that which finally manifests for the Christians as Jesus.
The most powerful word in the entire poem is "slouches."
It puts a demand of shame upon the bearer, who is the center of the nightmare.
-
Interesting ,Yellow Crane, that Yeats did not know that Christ had a manger and didn't have a cradle.
Yet you cannot be wrong , what the poem means to you, it does mean to you .
Even if to me it means somthing diffrent to me entirely I am not wrong either.
Poetry is not immune to analisis , but it is usually not the best way to understand a poem.
http://www.poemhunter.com/p/m/l.asp?p=1&l=top500&order=title
"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.
Emily Dickinson
Now if you get that Emily is saying , what should I add?
-
This poem is easy to understand , lets parce it .
Introduction To Poetry
I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.
Billy Collins
-
Is the Antichrist supposed to be born in Bethlehem?
I don't think the Bible gets into that much detail.
-
Is the Antichrist supposed to be born in Bethlehem?
I don't think the Bible gets into that much detail.
It doesn't ,but you have to expect that a false Messiah would try to match the prophecies that he was exploiting a much as he could.
He will be born in Bethlehem or he will fake birth in Bethlehem or he will interpret the prophecy in some way that doesn't require birth in Bethlehem. It doesn't matter much.
The poetic image of being born in Bethlehem tho is hard to mistake in meaning , it must be a Messiah or false Messiah.
-
Interesting ,Yellow Crane, that Yeats did not know that Christ had a manger and didn't have a cradle.
Both Yeats and I bow to your obviously superior intelligence.
-
It doesn't ,but you have to expect that a false Messiah would try to match the prophecies that he was exploiting a much as he could.
He will be born in Bethlehem or he will fake birth in Bethlehem or he will interpret the prophecy in some way that doesn't require birth in Bethlehem. It doesn't matter much.
======================================
An interesting concept, that an individual could actually CHOOSE THE PLACE OF HIS BIRTH, don'cha think?
I like the way that the Bible explains how Jesus (whose parents were from Nazareth (wherever that was-no one seems sure, I read) was born in Bethlehem, because the Romans, for reasons that make no sense at all, required people to return to the place of their birth to pay taxes.
If you were an oppressive tyrant, why would you make such a silly request? It's not like the Romans ran a U-Haul or Avis-rent-a-donkey service and would benefit from it. No, if they wanted to maximize their tax receipts they would tax people wherever it was that they lived.
True, if Jesus was the actual Messiah, he had to be born in the City of David because of vague prophesies and such. But the Romans were not into this, and they were the one making the rules.
Nowhere in Roman history is this return-to-your-place-of-birth thing mentioned.
-
The pigeons visited Pushkin
And pecked at his melancholy
The gray bronze statue talks to the pigeons
With all the patience of bronze.
The modern pigeons
Don't understand him
The language of birds now
Is different.
They make droppings on Pushkin
Then fly to Mayakovsky.
His statue seems to be of lead.
He seems to have been
Made of bullets.
They didn't sculpt his tenderness -
Just his beautiful arrogance.
If he is a wrecker
Of tender things
How can he live among violets
In the moonlight
In love?
Something is always missing in these statues
Which are fixed rigidly in the direction of their times.
Either they are slashed
Into the air with a combat knife
Or they are left seated
Transformed into a tourist in a garden.
And other people, tired of riding horseback
No longer can dismount and eat there.
Statues are really bitter things
Because time piles up
In deposits on them, oxidizing them
And even the flowers come to cover
Their cold feet. The flowers aren't kisses.
They've also come there to die.
White birds in the daytime
And poets at night
And a great ring of shoes surrounding
The iron Mayakovosky
And his frightful bronze jacket
And his iron unsmiling mouth.
One time when it was late and I was almost asleep
On the edge of the river, far off in the city
I could hear the verses rising, the psalms
Of the reciters in succession.
Was Mayakovsky listening?
Do statues listen?
Pablo Neruda
-
The pigeons visited Pushkin
And pecked at his melancholy
The gray bronze statue talks to the pigeons
With all the patience of bronze.
The modern pigeons
Don't understand him
The language of birds now
Is different.
Pablo Neruda
Nice
kinda like Ozymandias
But with less anchient reference
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ozymandias
OZYMANDIAS
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
- Percy Bysshe Shelley
In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone,
Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws
The only shadow that the Desert knows:
"I am great OZYMANDIAS," saith the stone,
"The King of Kings; this mighty City shows
"The wonders of my hand." The City's gone,
Nought but the Leg remaining to disclose
The site of this forgotten Babylon.
We wonder, and some Hunter may express
Wonder like ours, when thro' the wilderness
Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chace,
He meets some fragments huge, and stops to guess
What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.
?Horace Smith.