Saturday, 14 January 2012

A Poetic Expression of Symbolism

This element of Symbolism poetry seems to be the hardest to grasp because the interpretation may vary from reader to reader. These symbols are figures or things mentioned or implied in the poem which means or signifies another thing.

A sword can be used as a symbol of power, violence, justice, and much more depending on how the author used. Wind may symbolize a problem or support. Symbolic interpretation requires a thorough reading and meditating on and off. You may also need to check cross-references in the poem and other works to confirm the meaning of the symbol as shown by the poet.

***symbolism poem1***

Snake in Mouth Symbolism

symbolism poems 1

The snake; in its mouth, its tail
appears on a headstone ordered by mail
signifies an eternal life in heaven
put above the body at eleven
significant grief from the friends
does not cease as life ends
found on the headstones of the deceased
in hopes for their spirit’s forever peace

***symbolism poem2***

my tempo

symbolism poems 2

I'd close my eyes and start to see,
Which was not yet in front of me.
Ill start to type, form a rhyme.
Then continue with my pouting.
These beats I form start to mourn

And show a cried out ego
Hear my tempo slow to time
Then ill march on forward proudly
You've seen my tears, you've heard me cry
But now I'm done with trying

***symbolism poem3***

The Healthy Tree

symbolism poems 3

The healthy tree
Swayed in the wind
And lived many years with the glass half full
But, eventually it came to its death
Now, in the afterlife, its on a marble gravestone
Now, it symbolizes the life of the person below it
The tree lived such a blissful life
As did the person-
The symbol represents the life of a fulfilled, peaceful ...

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Friday, 13 January 2012

Weakness is a highway robber which destroys life

Weakness is a highway robber which destroys life,

Her real form has not been recognized.

People have placed different veils on her face,

Mildness and compassion are sometimes the veils across her face.

She done the garb of humility at other times.

She is occasionally hidden under the plea of compulsion.

When analyzed it is nothing but a love of ease,

It takes the heart out of an individual

who could have been strong


by Sylvia Plath

Since hristmas they have lived with us,
Guileliss and clear,
Oval soul-animials
taking up half the space,
moving and rubbing on the silk

Invisible air drifts,
giving a shriek and pop,
when attacked, then scooting to rest, barely trembling.
Yellow cathead, blue fish ----
such queer moons we live with

Instead of dead furniture!
Straw mats, white walls
and these traveling
globes of thin air, red, green

The heart like wishes or free
peacocks blessing
old ground with a feather
beaten in starry metals.

Brother is making
his balloon squeak like a cat.
Seeming to see
a funny pink world he might eat on the other side of it,
he bites,

then sits
back, fat jug
contemplating a world clear as water.
A red
shred in his little fist.

the dove

the war was over,
a dove was spread around,
the war was finally over,
in this tiny town

Mark but this fle

Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deny'st me is;
It sucked me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more than we would do.

Bright are the stars that shine

Bright are the stars that shine,
Dark is the sky;
I know this love of mine
Will never die.

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it's like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.