Wollstonecraft: A Second Look

In American culture we are taught that sex sales and women should be proud of what G-d gave them. The cultural norm is to promote the  sexual explorative nature of the female while, at the same time, striking down the "slut shaming" of the past. If anything, this seems to be the path to true feminism. Men have always been pushed towards sowing their wild oats so why can not women do the same? It feels empowering to have the equivalent standards of the opposite sex.  However, Wollstonecraft had a slightly different view on this topic. In her essay "A Vindication of The Rights of Women," she speaks about how women over use their sexual nature to seduce men, playing a role into their own subjugation. In modern times, the pornographic industry is booming. The vast majority of the consumers of this industry are males with the highest paid performers being female. Many of these women have post-secondary degrees, yet chose to have the profession out of enjoyment. So, is she correct in her statement?

During the political climate in which this essay was written, women were to truly be seen and not heard. Women being other than the sexual receptacle for their husbands was truly unheard of. In the past, when a woman was diagnosed with hysteria, she was manually stimulated by her doctor in order to “cure” the disorder. The reason the doctor had to do this is it was believed that a woman could not achieve orgaism without the touch of a man. So, perhaps it was not Wollstonecraft stating women should not be sexual, but rather they should not be sexualized by the cultural norms of her day and time.

When this idea is taken into account, it is easy to see that she really is fighting for the equal sexual rights of women just as much as the modern woman of today. Through her proposed education, women can learn that their bodies are their own and no other, male or female, is needed to justify them.

Let Them Eat Babies

If someone were to propose to solve the hunger issue with the killing and consumption of young human flesh, the world would be in an uproar. Media outlets would be covering it, various celebrities would be creating charities to destroy the thought, and musicians would write a loving ballad in solidarity to stop it. Yet, before such a terrible thing was said, not a thing was done. The starving child left by its mother in the gutter was simply ignored because it was just too sad or not fitting into one’s day. What was the difference? The solidarity of a scapegoat, which is exactly what Swift did in his essay “A Modest Proposal.”

Swift’s essay is written in a very matter-of-fact tone, explaining all of the wonderful ways in which the Irish people could solve all their issues by simply eating the youth. He even goes at great lengths to describe how the children could be procured, butchered, cooked and served. Nothing about this proposal is ethical or even possible. So why even write it? Swift gave the people a common enemy to hate. No longer would the wealthy blame the poor for not doing their part or vice versa, but rather everyone would look to him as a deplorable man who wants to eat babies. By giving the people a common enemy, they now have a common ground on which to solve their issues with others pooling in for support.

The outlandish rhetoric and satire has been a device well used for some time, especially within politics, in order to bring about a change to the current system. Many politicians use this tactic to this day, though not perhaps to this degree. Swift in no way felt the need to consume human flesh but did feel rather exhausted by the Irish state of affairs and the total lack of progress to change things, whether from the masses or the government. This modest proposal was simply a modest way to open eyes to absurdities that were truly relevant and give the common spring board that was need to make the change.

Faded Time: Walker Brothers Cowboy

If you take the time to look into the eyes of the elderly as they speak of their past, you can almost see how the world spun around them as they begged it all to slow down. A grandfather will walk his granddaughter around an old southern town explaining that his childhood home once stood where that old dried clump of hard clay now displays a "For Sale" sign, promising great development possibilities between the newest BB&T and Starbucks. It is hard to imagine that his time got away from him at 85, yet his shaking hand finds it hard to fall as he points to that lifeless plot. His memories within the clay are all he has to prove his worth, an evident theme in the story "Walker Brothers Cowboy,"

The attempt to prove self worth in the mark left in clay is when the father walks his son down to the old lake. Here, he begins the grand tale of how the Great Lakes were formed. As he is telling this story, he places his hand upon the earth and pushes to emphasize how the glaciers tore through to creation. When he pulls back, he has made little to no mark at all, only to remark that the glaciers had much more force than he could.

Though this may seem like the simple retelling of a story to pass along, it hold a much deeper meaning to the story teller. Earlier within the story, it is revealed that he is a failed farmer with a wife that is none to pleased with their new position in life. His life, just as his hand, had little to no strength and has made no impression in the clay, making this a metaphor for his situation. However, he takes his child to the lake frequently and speaks to him about silly stories. It is these memories in which he will build his worth for he has lost it everywhere else.

So, as the clay remains unmoved, the impression is leaves upon those who try so hard to impress upon it will remain. Those who try to find their worth will continue to push their hands deep into the earth to make their mark. The elderly will point at old plots of clay nothingness to note what was. But all that will ever remain in the unmoving clay.

Nature vs. Nurture: This Be The Verse

As soon as you have the joys of taking a basic college level psychology class, you have the privilege of being introduced to the concept of nature vs. nurture. There has long been the debate that one outweighs the other in emotional and psychological development, with nature being inborn and nurture being environmental factors. However, during the 1960’s, many psychological articles began to surface that genetics did in fact have a lot to do with a persons psychological makeup. It is very possible that Philip Larkin’s poem “This Be the Verse” was reflecting these newly backed findings that we are not a product of just our environment but our genetics, as well.

The attention grabbing poem is written in the words of the every man, with no fluff or filler. The first two lines explain in simple terms how your parents will “fuck you up,” by no fault of their own with continuing to say they pass along their faults as well as a bit a extras. This perfectly demonstrates nature and nurture combined. The faults that are passed along “just for you” are genetic, as they can not be passed along to anyone else within the family unit. However, as proven through much psychological evidence, we are molded by our environment, so we are inevitably “fucked up,” by our parents in a nurture sense, as well. The second stanza is very indicative to the time, as the 70’s saw a great change in ideals and a generation that fought back against their parent’s beliefs, though this is hardly a new sentiment, which is captured in those lines. The closing stanza opens perfectly with “Man hands on misery to man” which can both mean genetic disorders and being stuck in the same environmental issues and beliefs one was raised in, only to continue the chain. The last line of “…don’t have any kids yourself” is the overkill meant to bring about a change in the cycle that seems to leave no hope for anyone.

Nature vs. nurture has been a battle of the ages since Plato and Descartes. Through time we have come to the conclusion that both play some sort of role in developing minds, but there is still an argument as to what part of the mind it shapes and how much of a role. In the end, though, does it even matter? Perhaps, what matters is breaking the change of misery as Larkin suggest.

The Intellectuals Fear of Inadequacy: The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

It is very true that the dullest of minds are incredibly boastful. Imagine the many clicks of keyboards at coffee shops as the “next big author” is publicly writing, just waiting for eye contact so they can loudly explain in well thought out terms their master piece. Seldom does anyone ever pay mind to the disjointed and shy mutterings of intellectual, sitting in the corner, sipping on his plain black coffee. This is due to the fact that many intellectuals suffer from such crippling self doubt that they become just like the character of T. S. Eliot’s poem “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”

Intelligence is a hell few will ever know, as shown in the opening of this poem. Just under the title, a small snippet of Dante’s Inferno can be read. The lines, in the original Italian, are meant to express that someone can tell their story and it never be passed along, as if the story being told is not worth it. The poem then begins with Alfred telling of many surreal cityscapes, all of which are seedy yet real. The people that are there are of a different intellect; they are street smart and sure of themselves. These are the places he wishes to go but also the things he wishes to be, only to be interrupted by what his reality is, which is the beauty he can not obtain is. This is shown through the women passing by in small parlor rooms making small talk of Michelangelo. He continues on in a disjointed pattern of making excuses for not changing as he is too old, too ugly, and counting on time always being there. He ends with beating himself down as a nothing and simply drifts away in silence.

Many with the most brilliant minds are too fearful to speak up. They are crushed by their own insecurities and left to their own hells. Instead, they waste away and watch women gather in tiny rooms talking of Michelangelo or boastful hipsters talk about how they are the next great playwright in their local coffee shop. 

Imagination Stimulation: A Spot of Woolf

How many times has it come down to starting a task, perhaps one you could really care less to do, and you find yourself focusing on something so small and minuscule you are not really sure why your eye landed there? You begin to wonder what it is, how it came to be, and why you stomach is rumbling if you ate no more than an hour ago. Suddenly, you realize you are thinking about how you are going to cure cancer but isolating one cell and realize it was all traced back to the thought of one tiny spot. It is amazing how these thoughts trail away to beautiful places and Virginia Woolf captures this in “The Mark on the Wall.” Within her short story, Woolf is able to show how stream on conscious breeds imagination and reflection all through the focus on the minuscule.  

Woolf’s story takes her readers on a journey to discovery, paragraph by paragraph as she tries her best to determine in her boredom what the spot on the wall is. The spot really is of little importance, for knowing what it is or how it got there would change nothing about the here and now. However, what the spot does for her imagination is amazing. She is taken on a ride to the old owners, the ignorance of humanity, things that have come and gone, and so on until finally her task has come to an end and she determines the spot was in fact a snail.

The truly amazing thing about this story is the journey through imagination while sitting within the mundane. Woolf was able to breathe a new life within the everyday we all experience which is true art. It is now time to pause and look out beyond at the spot on the wall and see where imagination takes you.

Not Alone in Our Hate: R Browning

Many of those who still cleave to religious trapping like to believe that there are those who remain pious and pure. Within the Catholic faith, we have the nuns, the priest, and so on, which have sworn their oaths to G-d in order to live a most poised life. These people swear upon the holiest of text to abstain from the worldly sins which the general population finds themselves too human to try and scurry away from. Yet, in the poem “Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister” by Robert Browning, the people are reminded through the inner most thoughts of a Spanish monk that no one is above sin no matter their rank within the church.

As the poem begins, the Spanish monk is literally growling at the simple fact of his hatred for Brother Lawrence. One can almost see his eyes rolling and a scoff leaving his mouth, barely audible, as he watches as a smiling and humming Lawrence water and trim his plants completely oblivious to the hate the boils inside his “friend.”  As the poem continues, the narrator ironically notes the ways in which Brother Lawrence fails in his Christian ways. The narrator then begins to plan his demise, only to be interrupted by him.

Though this poem is broken into nine parts, its meaning is meant to be taken as a whole. Many times, the common people of everyday life look towards religion and hold those of a higher rank above themselves. These people or peoples that are places on these high horses are seen to be above human emotion. Even within their own circle they are supposed to be without greed, lust, envy, and so forth. Yet here, Browning shows that these people are still human and can feel just as strongly as anyone else. While this may be painful for others to see, it is meant to be refreshing in that we are all equal and not alone in these feelings.

To Love Intensely: E. Browning and Sonnet 43

It is written in many reviews that Elizabeth Browning’s sonnet 43 from “Sonnets from the Portuguese” is purely about the intense love she felt for her soon to be betrothed Robert Browning.  From the every popular quoted first line of “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways:” this seems to be an apt assumption. However, what is one to see when this poem is looked at through the eyes of someone who incapable of feeling much of anything? When the poem is broken down through the malevolent synapse of Ted Bundy, the words take a much more sinister air.

The first line, as mentioned above, is as sweet as sugar as it fawns over the love interest, creating a false sense of security. The narrator goes on to list all of the ways in which their love is felt, such as loving “...thee to the depth, and breadth, and height/ My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight.” Here, this line is misleading. The lines again are singing a melodious song of sweet love but they truly never say anything. A sociopath has no conscience which can also be interpreted into having no soul, as well, as this is the moral compass which guides humans. The theme of empty beautiful words being spun into a loving lullaby continue on with such lines as “I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;” “I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise;” as well as “I love thee with the passion put to use/ In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.”

The poem concludes with the lines “I love thee with a love I seemed to lose/ With my lost saints --- I love thee with the breath/ Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and if God choose,/ I shall but love thee better after death.” Here the true sociopath can be felt delivering a slice of truth as a sweet pale face falls onto his shoulder, lulled by his “loving” words. He confides just enough of himself within these lines to seal the trust of his victim. His torment of being lost, as seen in the “lost saints,” as well as just enough vulnerability, as seen in loving measurement through his breath, smiles and tears, locks everything he needs into place. The final line of loving one after death, if God so chooses, is the last narcissistic blow as the hand that was believed to be full of love takes the life of his victim sending them to this God who makes all these supposed choices when in fact it is he who is in true control.

It may be true that the original intent of this poetical work was to raise the praises of true love. However, shown here is the power of perception. When one takes a work and looks at through the eyes of another, works take on a whole new meaning, even if the work’s meaning seems to plainly stated as in Sonnet 43 of “Sonnet of the Portuguese.”

Dionysus, Maenads, and Kubla Khan

On the surface, Coleridge's “Kubla Khan” is a poem of a beautiful place that came to him within a dream with passionate and surreal undertones. However, if you look a bit deeper, you may see Greek mythology at play within one of Coleridge’s most well known poems. Through a journey of words that bring the audience through hills and valleys, a story of Greek mythology with a focus on the life of Dionysus takes form.

The poem opens with “In Xanadu did Kubla Khan/ A stately pleasure dome decree:” continuing on to describe this pleasure dome. The river Alph runs through, which is a nod to Alpheus, a Greek mythological river and river god. The author’s description furthers this assumption of the Greek theme by stating it runs through caverns measureless to man and down into a sunless sea denoting the might and depth the god has. He continues on to tell of the fertile ground, grand gardens, fragrant trees, and forest spotted with green landscapes. In keeping with his theme, this all points to the lands of the Dionysus cult of the maenads and lived quite a hedonistic lifestyle. Their lifestyle is told more in the following lines, stating:

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

The first three lines tell of the maenads, inciting thoughts out their sexualized passions brought on by their god Dionysus. The final two have a dual meaning: the frenzied women would dance in the night in passion as well as Dionysus’ creation between Semele and Zeus, as he came to her in the night invisible. Semele was pleased with her invisible lover and his taking of her could be preserved as a demon like possession.  

The poem then continues on with continued dual meaning within lines 17 through 30. These state:

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain momently was forced:

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:

And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion

Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

Then reached the caverns measureless to man,

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;

And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

Ancestral voices prophesying war!

These lines have a dual meaning, as well. Not only is this the conception of Dionysus but it is also the demise of his mother, Semele.  The burst that rushes forth and meets which later foretells of war is his conception and the later wrath of Hera who becomes jealous of Zeus’ love for Semele. The volcanic like burst is also when Semele finally saw Zeus in his true form and was incinerated by his image.

The poem continues on to tell of the dome once more, but this time it has a cavern of ice. This could very well be the place where Dionysus was raised. Hera’s wrath was never ending and for protection Zeus sent him to be raised with the mountain nymphs.

Next, Coleridge jumps back to the maenads as they are enticing the narrator with music. Still, there are those who know tell him to beware. Maenads were known to tear apart both animals and mean and feast upon their flesh when in their frenzied states.  Yet the narrator  weaves a protective circle around himself, for he can no longer resist, as he has tasted the milk and honey of Dionysus, which is true paradise.

Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan” is the great poetical work of Dionysus. He wove in Greek mythology perfectly within the lines of surreal beauty that it seeps into the veins of the reader as if they have themselves tasted the milk and honey. It is impossible to not be moved by the musicality and beauty set in Xanadu through Coleridge's amazing words.

A Sister’s Love: “We Are Seven”

As many with siblings know, our brothers and sisters become our protectors. Through out our lives, they are our playmates, our friends, and the ones that look out for us in times of great peril. There is little that can end this bond, especially the one a sister has for her siblings. In Wordsworth’s “We Are Seven,” this loving bond is shown through the conversation held between that of a small child and the narrator as she shows not even death can break blood ties.

“We Are Seven” opens with the narrator taking pause as he watches this small cottage girl. He begins to questions what “it” knows of death. He uses “it” rather than “her” to dehumanize her, thus establishing that his character is one of an outsider. As being such can remove himself from her situation and have a completely logical position. The narrator continues on describe the girl, who is sweet and cherub like with her thick head of curls, fair eyes, and beauty that brought him happiness. The reason she is described as such is the author is setting the tone for her future actions within the poem, for she is not only angelic in her looks.

Finally, the narrator speaks aloud to the girl and ask her “’Sisters and brothers, little Maid,/ How many may your be?’” The exchange continues on with the girl telling of her seven brothers and sisters: two of which dwell in Conway, two are at sea, and “Two of us in the church-yard lie,/ My sister and my brother.” The narrator, curious as to how this can still make a sum of seven, questions the little girl to her logic. To this, the angelic reply was simply a parrot response in disbelief that this person could not understand her. At further prodding, she explains more in depth the story of her sister and her brother, which is as follows:

          "Their graves are green, they may be seen,"

          The little Maid replied,

          "Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,

          And they are side by side.                                  

          "My stockings there I often knit,

          My kerchief there I hem;

          And there upon the ground I sit,

          And sing a song to them.

          "And often after sunset, Sir,

          When it is light and fair,

          I take my little porringer,

          And eat my supper there.

          "The first that died was sister Jane;

          In bed she moaning lay,                                     

          Till God released her of her pain;

          And then she went away.

          "So in the church-yard she was laid;

          And, when the grass was dry,

          Together round her grave we played,

          My brother John and I.

          "And when the ground was white with snow,

          And I could run and slide,

          My brother John was forced to go,

          And he lies by her side."             

These lines give great merit to how her angelic looks tie in, as mentioned above. Not only does she look like an angel, but she is the angelic protector of her brother and sister. She speaks a bit backwards, as at first she tells of them in death. She speaks of how in death she watches over them, taking on many of her daily task with them where they lie. Then, she then continues with a bit more back story as she tells of her sister’s fate. She was neither sad nor angry when she passed away, but felt G-d had released her and took her away. Her phrasing with her sister’s passing further drives home the angelic protector that she is. She then moves on to her brother and that though her sister had passed she did not forget him but rather played with him while still including her sister’s memory until he fell ill. Even though these two are gone and she can no longer protect them from earthly ills, she can protect their memory and does so with a child like innocence personified through cherub qualities. Still, the narrator, ever the outside logic, questions her but this little girl remains firm, stating “Nay, we are seven!”

There are few that will protect you from all the harms and ills of the world. So much is out there that tries to destroy, yet the love of a sister will keep a light burning for all time, even if it to just protect a memory. Wordsworth grasped innocent love of a family through a child’s eyes within “We Are Seven” and the small cherub will keep her siblings alive for years to come.

The Changing Seasons: A Song by Christina Rossetti

          The changing of the seasons have always been poetic in the motions they take. As the cycle keeps going, there is life, death, and a rebirth with every year that passes. However, there is also a human element to these changes, as Spring takes on such innocence while Fall remains all knowing of the impending death that each cycle must take. Christina Rossetti captures this natural poetry in her work “Song.”

          The poem is spoken as if the narrator is telling the story to her audience. The opening four lines “She sat and sang alway/ By the green margin of a stream/ watching the fishes leap and play/ Beneath a golden sunbeam” first tell of Spring. Here, the audience can clearly begin to picture the life that Spring takes on, as sun beams shoot down from the sky and awaken the fish as they swim upstream to create life once more. The green grass has sprouted and the songs of the season can be heard in her voice, from the tiniest bird to the babbling brook. The use of “always” at the opening also reemphasizes that this is in fact Spring, as it will always be returning within the life cycle.

The narrator then states, “I sat and wept alway/ beneath the moon’s most shadowy beam, / Watching the blossoms of the May/ Weep leaves into the stream.” Here, it is seen that the narrator is Spring’s counterpoint: Fall. Fall knows of the impending death that each life cycle must take, again by the use of “always,” and thus weeps as stated above. Fall in general takes on a saddened tone of shadows, longer nights with reduced light, and, as shown here, watches as the life that Spring brought fall into the stream that once teemed with life.

Next, the lines present a comparison of how Fall truly knows what is to come and Spring knows so little. These lines state: “I wept for memory/ She sang for hope that is so fair; / Me tears were swallowed by the sea; / Her songs died on the air.” Fall continues to weep for the memories that once were. Her knowledge is a lack of innocence which Spring still posses, as she still sings for hope. However, the life cycle will forever press on with no change, thus the narrator’s tears falling into an endless sea while Springs songs will fade into Fall’s chill air.

In this poem, Rossetti does an amazing job of humanizing the seasonal cycle. Here, we are presented not only the seasons of change but change in itself. Through her words, one can watch the seasons and gain a better understanding of the seasons of life. 

A Prayer for Death: Sonnet of Sleep

There are many times in our busy lives we have all prayed for sleep to overtake our heavy lids and pass us into the world of the sandman where dreams abound and time loses meaning. These restful states allow us to reset from the day to day grind we experience, and REM sleep organizes out thoughts so our brains can handle the next onslaught of screaming children, memos, and traffic jams. Yet there are times where life is too much and sleep simply is not enough. On the surface, the John Keats sonnet appears to be a man pleading for a restful night wrapped in the blanket of morbid words. However, his morbid words are no mood setting imagery, but in fact true pleas for the calls of the true sleep which one can not return from due to the pains of addiction.

Keats shows the reader of his intentions with the first line, calling upon the soft embalmer of the still midnight. Just by using the term “embalmer,” a tone has been set of morbidity and mortality that he wishes to meet. He goes on to paint a picture of death overtaking him as he states, “Shutting with careful fingers and benign/ Our gloom-ples’d eyes, emboer’d from the light.” Keats continues on with “Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:/ O soothest Sleep! If so it please thee, close,/ In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,” The use of the word divine is a play on words, as death is not only a welcome joy but a G-d send. This idea is further cemented in “Sleep” being capitalized in the next line and as he continues to plead with his angel of death as if it is a divine being or G-d himself. The sonnet continues on to state “Or wait the Amen ere thy poppy throws/ Around my bed its lulling charities.” At the time of the sonnet, Opium was in common use for both recreation as well as medicinal purposes. However, side effects of its use included depression, anxiety as well as sleep deprivation. Though the high gained from the addiction may be soothing, the effects are only exasperating his condition which could also mean this line is used with quite a bit of sarcasm. The poet continues to beg for fear of the next day’s light, and ends with “Save me from curious conscience, that still hoards/ Its strength for darkness, burrowing like the mole;/ Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,/ And seal the hushed casket of my soul.” He pleads again to be released from his pain that is now eating away at his soul. The “curious conscience” that blackens him so is in fact his addiction that is slowly taking him away, burrowing deeper and deeper within him as glazed sleepless eyes look out calling for relief.  The author ends with a casket as do all physical human forms. At the last line the reader can almost hear a held in sigh as hopes are held high that a prayer will be answered.

Anyone who has suffered from waking pains with no rest can attest to praying for sleep. Still, there are times in which the pain of life bores into your soul and the only relief one can feel is the sweet release that only death can bring. At these times, only a true ode to lasting sleep will do.

Rapacious Vanity: Ozymandias

As humans, we all crave appreciation for our great works and deeds. For most a simple pat on the back for a job well done is enough to assuage this desire. Yet for others, a G-d complex makes them thirst for more. Their life becomes nothing but a linear trajectory towards their advancement paved with the poor souls left behind in the battle for greater things. All other of life’s great enjoyments are frivolous and deemed distractions. Yet, what happens when this G-d reaches their end? Percy Bysshe Shelly captures the answer to this question in the cautionary tale Ozymandias.

Shelly opens the poem with the framing device of a speaking traveler; one who knows life, has lived it fully, and seen it for its various wonders. Here, the wanderer begins with the image of sandblasted, broken, and trunk-less statue in the desert. Upon further reading, it is found that this statue is of none other than Ozymandias, or Ramses II of Egypt. The inscription at the bottom of this tells all who pass that this is in fact the king of kings, to look upon his works and despair! Just in the inscription one can see this was a man who lived a life of vain trajectory who relied solely upon his works to define him. He set out to have great statues placed in his honor all about the lands and here one stands in sand. Yet, the legs are trunkless, much like the missing heart and soul of a ruthless leader. The shattered visage that lies upon the soft sands, mocked to perfection by the sculpture, shows a cold sneer and wrinkled lips. This is not a face of joy but one of bitterness for never achieving true happiness. And all of this is found in the middle of the desert by a single wonderer as the level sands stretch far and wide. Ozymandias’ single passion in life became all for which he was known. Happiness met vanity in the desert and happiness was able to walk away where as the statue, being vanity incarnate, was cursed to stand still in the sands of time.

Life is truly a balance of all things and Shelly was well aware of this. Through the use of a framing device to dichotomize the two extremes, the reader can see where a balance is needed in life to avoid being left as a shattered image in the timeline of history. By finding this balance, one can avoid the lone and level stretch of sands. 

Jewish Spirit: The Tyger from a Holocaust Prisoners Prosepective

When one thinks of the atrocities that were the Holocaust, the first thing that comes to mind is typically not The Tyger by William Blake. However, this poem speaks of the same sentiment felt by all those within the walls of various work camps throughout Europe: How could a loving G-d that creates such beauty also create such pain for his people?

The first four opening lines "Tyger! Tyger! burning bright/ In the forests of the night/ What immortal hand or eye/ Could frame thy fearful symmetry?" begin this image of such beauty in the world with a fire that burns within it. There is a pain and hate masked in beauty that prowls the night and G-d made this, leaving one to ask: how could this be?

Following is "In what distant deeps or skies/ Burnt the fire in thine eyes?" These are the lines where the Jew begins to not only see deeper into the eyes but feel the fires; these fires are of hate and of the painful ways in which they are their loved ones much die. Later again, the image of the furnace is revisited as madness in which this "tyger" was forged is spoken of. This use of words only reinforces sentiment of atrocities faced, all burning within the fevered brain of this prowling beast.

The lines continue on with "When the stars threw down their spears/ And water's heaven with their tears,/ Did he smile his work to see?/ Did he who made the Lamb make thee?" In these four lines you have the full hell of Jewish thought throughout this dehumanizing period of history. When G-d sent these atrocities, these men and women, this "tyger," and G-d's chosen people cried out to Him, did He smile or even care or were the Jews truly abandoned in the endless night?

Though written well before the time of the atrocities felt by the Jewish people, the betrayal of one's higher power felt in this poem transcends time. These emotions are something as primal as the tiger and its pain will continue to burn on as we search for answers as to why we have all become lost.

-Please note that due to the author's beliefs, G-d will be spelled as such out of respect.

Shakespeare and Cialis: Aging and Sex in Sonnet 73

Many of Shakespeare’s sonnets consist of allusions to time, love, and sex. Most of these rest upon the broad and strapping shoulders of the impulsive young  as they face their own mortality and how they should bask in these youthful ways while they still can. This theme is really driven home in Sonnet 73, as the protagonist is at the brink of his mortality and is facing the worst ailment imaginable in the Shakespearean world: male impotence. The use of imagery in sonnet 73 paints the picture of not only an aging man, but an aging man who has lost the ability to achieve the sexual satisfaction of his youth.

As the sonnet opens, we read of a bleak fall scene. This image of a coldness with bare trees, empty choirs with barely any singing, and no birds paint the tone of sadness but also begin to set the idea of the sexual undertones of what this man is experiencing. The beauty of sexual release and the ability to pleasure his lover has escaped him. There is no heavenly choirs singing upon pent up release, no birds chirping, all of which are common equations to such an act. Building upon the ever used “tree of life” theme, his own has become so bareen only a few leaves cling; yet another image indicating his age. As the sonnet moves forward, lines 5-7 only cement the aging mans disdain for his impending mortality. However, in line 8, there is a play on words from mortality to a very different type of death. “Death’s second self that seals up all in rest” is bridging his own death to le petit mort, or the little death, a French term for orgasim. The next line goes one to say the ashes of his youth lie. This is the first direct omission of the character that he is no longer able to have such a youthful release. All the pain and sadness built up in the preceding lines comes to a head at this point at line 10 of the sonnet. The final two lines are a signal of his defeat, stating he can not strengthen love, love being of a sexual nature, and now must leave this part of him behind for good.

It is very common of any time period to have sex as a theme, yet to have a character speak so candidly of his loss is breathtaking. Human sexual nature has always been prevalent, even if not so open as it is in the present day. Due to this, much of it had to be spoken in code and even more so just for simple entertainment purposes; but the raw emotion, portrayed through such amazing imagery, being felt in this piece is amazing and makes it worth discussing.