Here I Come, America
Sometimes with one I love
I fill myself with rage for fear I effuse unreturn'd love,
But now I think there is no unreturn'd love,
the pay is certain one way or another,
(I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not return'd,
Yet out of that I have written these songs.)
I fill myself with rage for fear I effuse unreturn'd love,
But now I think there is no unreturn'd love,
the pay is certain one way or another,
(I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not return'd,
Yet out of that I have written these songs.)
Since I arrived here, I thought I would start reading the American poets in more detail. And on the initial research, found Whitman, who had inspired me some time earlier.
About four years back, I read in a book on American Literature, a certain poem by Whitman called "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed", published in his infamous "Leaves of grass". In that poem, there were certain lines on death he wrote. I thought it was amazing. It went like:
DEATH CAROL.
16
Come, lovely and soothing Death,
Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving,
In the day, in the night, to all, to each,
Sooner or later, delicate Death.
Prais’d be the fathomless universe,
For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious;
And for love, sweet love—But praise! praise! praise!
For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding Death.
Dark Mother, always gliding near, with soft feet,
Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome?
Then I chant it for thee—I glorify thee above all;
I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly.
Approach, strong Deliveress!
When it is so—when thou hast taken them, I joyously sing the dead,
Lost in the loving, floating ocean of thee,
Laved in the flood of thy bliss, O Death.
From me to thee glad serenades,
Dances for thee I propose, saluting thee—adornments and feastings for thee;
And the sights of the open landscape, and the high-spread sky, are fitting,
And life and the fields, and the huge and thoughtful night.
The night, in silence, under many a star;
The ocean shore, and the husky whispering wave, whose voice I know;
And the soul turning to thee, O vast and well-veil’d Death,
And the body gratefully nestling close to thee.
Over the tree-tops I float thee a song!
Over the rising and sinking waves—over the myriad fields, and the prairies wide;
Over the dense-pack’d cities all, and the teeming wharves and ways,
I float this carol with joy, with joy to thee, O Death!
I got inspired by these and wrote my own poem called Great Death on August 13, 2002. Here goes my poem:
With sorrow, pain and grieving rain
Bringing fear now and again
Sweeping up through the unkempt woods
Shaded beneath the serpent-hoods
Dancing wildly with a passion to win
Causing a shiver to the ghosts of sin
Fueling the burning fires of chaste
Charring the wealths of greed to waste
Treating dreams and nightmares alike
Propping the poor to impel their strike
Leaving no traces of bodies and bloods
Washing the dirt of carnage in floods
Thwarting the lights of ephemeral sanctity
With the pervading clouds of timeless blankity
Hollowing the heads of unrefined brains
Sinking impiety and calumny in drains
Welcome the one, whose wrath escapes none
Welcome the one, who has always won
Dark death, dear death, you are welcome
Great Death take us back to our real home.
Other American Poets I am looking forward to read are E.A.Poe and Robert Frost.
Poe's poem "To My Mother" (1894) has some beautiful lines, I keep repeating to myself often:
Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of "Mother,"
The rest of the poem, for some reason I am not fond of. But these four lines, I will never forget.
I become emotional.
And of course, speaking of Robert Frost, the more I speak would be less. His verse, his rhyme, his metre are just so impeccable. I almost recite his "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening". In fact there is more music in his poems than literature. The last four lines of this poem are awesome:
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.
Simple, yet deep.
And Frost's "Road Not Taken" and other poems are just genius. One of his funny I remember and keep reading to friends is 'Forgive, O Lord":
Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee
And I'll forgive Thy great big one on me.
Way to go!!
I am currently writing some stanzas, again, probably taking inspiration from Whitman.
Thanks for reading thru.
About four years back, I read in a book on American Literature, a certain poem by Whitman called "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed", published in his infamous "Leaves of grass". In that poem, there were certain lines on death he wrote. I thought it was amazing. It went like:
DEATH CAROL.
16
Come, lovely and soothing Death,
Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving,
In the day, in the night, to all, to each,
Sooner or later, delicate Death.
Prais’d be the fathomless universe,
For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious;
And for love, sweet love—But praise! praise! praise!
For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding Death.
Dark Mother, always gliding near, with soft feet,
Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome?
Then I chant it for thee—I glorify thee above all;
I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly.
Approach, strong Deliveress!
When it is so—when thou hast taken them, I joyously sing the dead,
Lost in the loving, floating ocean of thee,
Laved in the flood of thy bliss, O Death.
From me to thee glad serenades,
Dances for thee I propose, saluting thee—adornments and feastings for thee;
And the sights of the open landscape, and the high-spread sky, are fitting,
And life and the fields, and the huge and thoughtful night.
The night, in silence, under many a star;
The ocean shore, and the husky whispering wave, whose voice I know;
And the soul turning to thee, O vast and well-veil’d Death,
And the body gratefully nestling close to thee.
Over the tree-tops I float thee a song!
Over the rising and sinking waves—over the myriad fields, and the prairies wide;
Over the dense-pack’d cities all, and the teeming wharves and ways,
I float this carol with joy, with joy to thee, O Death!
I got inspired by these and wrote my own poem called Great Death on August 13, 2002. Here goes my poem:
With sorrow, pain and grieving rain
Bringing fear now and again
Sweeping up through the unkempt woods
Shaded beneath the serpent-hoods
Dancing wildly with a passion to win
Causing a shiver to the ghosts of sin
Fueling the burning fires of chaste
Charring the wealths of greed to waste
Treating dreams and nightmares alike
Propping the poor to impel their strike
Leaving no traces of bodies and bloods
Washing the dirt of carnage in floods
Thwarting the lights of ephemeral sanctity
With the pervading clouds of timeless blankity
Hollowing the heads of unrefined brains
Sinking impiety and calumny in drains
Welcome the one, whose wrath escapes none
Welcome the one, who has always won
Dark death, dear death, you are welcome
Great Death take us back to our real home.
Other American Poets I am looking forward to read are E.A.Poe and Robert Frost.
Poe's poem "To My Mother" (1894) has some beautiful lines, I keep repeating to myself often:
Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of "Mother,"
The rest of the poem, for some reason I am not fond of. But these four lines, I will never forget.
I become emotional.
And of course, speaking of Robert Frost, the more I speak would be less. His verse, his rhyme, his metre are just so impeccable. I almost recite his "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening". In fact there is more music in his poems than literature. The last four lines of this poem are awesome:
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.
Simple, yet deep.
And Frost's "Road Not Taken" and other poems are just genius. One of his funny I remember and keep reading to friends is 'Forgive, O Lord":
Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee
And I'll forgive Thy great big one on me.
Way to go!!
I am currently writing some stanzas, again, probably taking inspiration from Whitman.
Thanks for reading thru.
Siddartha Pamulaparty
06 Nov 2006.
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