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Category Archives: Poetry – General
Something There Is That Doesn’t Love a (Big, Beautiful) Wall
The “something” in the first line of Frost’s “Mending Wall” is the physical world. To be specific, it’s a phenomenon that shares the poet’s name: frost heaving. A native San Franciscan like me, Frost would have seen frost heaving in … Continue reading
‘And Don’t Have Any Kids Yourself’: Philip Larkin, Charles Darwin, and the Biology of Choice
In graduate school I loved Larkin’s poem “This Be the Verse” – who doesn’t? – but I was determined to find it somehow ironic. I’d like to say that I had read enough of Larkin’s to know that much of … Continue reading
Thoughts on Richard Hugo’s “To Women”
Richard Hugo’s poem “To Women” was included in the Norton Anthology that we used as a poetry text in A.P. English. We weren’t assigned to read this poem, but I found it anyway when I was flipping through the book … Continue reading
You Know You’re in A.P. English When Some of the Sentences Start With ‘Me’: Some Brief Thoughts on Paradise Lost With More to Come Soon, I Promise!
If I had to pick a single sentence in Paradise Lost that is most linguistically intriguing (so far, anyway), it would be this one, from Book II, lines18-24: Me though just right, and the fixed laws of Heav’n Did first … Continue reading
Book II of Paradise Lost, Part II (by Bethany)
After they conclude their parliamentary debate about whether or not to wage another war against God, the rebel angels make plans to scout the cosmos out to see if the rumor they’ve heard about the creation of mankind is true. … Continue reading
Mornings with Milton, Day 2: Book II of Paradise Lost (first part only) – by Bethany
Death is not – as Wallace Stevens supposes – the mother of beauty. In fact, Death is the father of the hell hounds. What? Yes, I’m serious. I’ve read Book II of Paradise Lost, and I know these things. Book … Continue reading
Mornings With Milton: Book I of Paradise Lost (by Bethany)
Paradise Lost is hard. It’s hard and intimidating and impossible to read without hearing Milton’s throaty voice laughing at you from wherever he is now – probably Purgatory. It’s also fascinating. This poem reminds me how much I love blank … Continue reading
Postcards From Purgatory 