1. The mock epic poem Don Juan is considered by many scholars to be Lord Byron's greatest work. What are your thoughts as to the literary worth of the first two cantos that we have read? Are they good poetry?
The poem Don Juan is certainly rich in themes and messages, but I find that it is the way he portrays the themes to be masterfully powerful and effective. His use of historical, Biblical and autobiographical allusions not only makes the poem more interesting to read, but also gives the reader further insight on the discussed theme. His views on love and human nature are very interesting, love being a central theme of the first two cantos. He elaborates on how he believes love should be constant and loyal between two people, but realises that it is impossible. There is some sarcastic humor in the cantos so far, as with Don Juan's fightng "heroically" to protect the alcohol as the ship is sinking. I find it difficult to evaluate these cantos as poems though, because of their narative style. The cantons seem more like stories with a rhyme scheme and stanzas, and it is difficult to evaluate the poetic elements due to the sheer length and amount of information of the cantos. As a story, so far yes they are good, expressing themes concerning society and humanity, and giving a new more "natural" and realistic twist to love and relationships. So in conclusion, in terms of literary worth, they are puissant in terms of theme and use of iterary elements, but perhaps is too difficult to evaluate as a poem.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Compass for Change
I can give you many reasons
why I lick healed wounds and pet old scars
why there's always a margin to scribble on
why I peek between closed curtains
on audiences cloned into one cold droopy mask
why some yester hopes with molded crusts
remain on my fridged shelf
Forget the why's and excuses
I realise they are a display of clutter and misplacements.
What I really need is a compass
to lead me forth
perhaps a glass manegerie of horses
on right corners of afflicted rooms
wooded wind chymes on entry gates
to keep away bad debt collectors
Next time I'll use slingers,
not jingle-belled boomerangs
why I lick healed wounds and pet old scars
why there's always a margin to scribble on
why I peek between closed curtains
on audiences cloned into one cold droopy mask
why some yester hopes with molded crusts
remain on my fridged shelf
Forget the why's and excuses
I realise they are a display of clutter and misplacements.
What I really need is a compass
to lead me forth
perhaps a glass manegerie of horses
on right corners of afflicted rooms
wooded wind chymes on entry gates
to keep away bad debt collectors
Next time I'll use slingers,
not jingle-belled boomerangs
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