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Friday, August 26, 2011

The Critique Corner: Classical Poetry


O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

The Sick Rose by William Blake was first published in 1794, and yet its theme resonates with the modern reader.  Thirty four words from his pen, inspired by the times in which he lived, have been inherited by our generation with their relevance intact.  How does the poet get this right?
There is a rose; there is a worm; there is a bed and there is a world of associations.

What strikes you as being the one over-riding factor in the success of this poem?
Is it a key-word, or the imagery? Perhaps it is the symbolism that strikes you. Maybe you think the poem is entirely over-rated.

Let's see if we can get to the bottom of what makes great poetry great... Leave your thoughts in the comment box.

Robb will continue to offer his Critique Corner in the Tuesday slot from Sept 6.

11 comments:

Old Raven said...

I love this poem. And no, I have not read it previously. So to answer your question from my perspective is:

is to say that blame, a negative behavior is placed nowhere. This allows the reader to experience him or herself comfortably within the poem.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Thanks for offering your angle on the poem, Liz. Yes, common morality would teach us to be ashamed of our crimson joy... though some may argue that the colour crimson could denote shame on the cheek of a secret lover. Perhaps the poet wants us to embrace the darker nature of human passion.

jen revved said...

Being of somewhat literal mind I see the invisible impassioned worm as death come for the rose..at the root. But of course the whole thing could be a metaphor for passion of the erotic sort. xxj

Kerry O'Connor said...

Ooh, yes! That's a wonderful interpretation. The death that arrives unseen in the night, and cuts short the crimson joy of the life blood. Certainly an enduring image.

Ed Pilolla said...

some who lay in our beds kill us. chose your lovers carefully:)

Kerry O'Connor said...

Haha! Too true, Ed. Thanks for joining the discussion.

Mary said...

I will be the devil's advocate, Kerry. Truly this poem does nothing for me, means nothing to me. I must prefer modern poetry to classical. Classical poems such as this one seem too stilted and contrived to me.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Fair comment, Mary. The rigid rhyme pattern may be the cause of the stiltedness you have experienced.

Tiaden said...

To me, this poem reads as a beautiful life destroyed by someone's inner demons. A carefully constructed facade which is being pulled apart from the inside out. It's interesting in the manner which such universal and well used images can be put into different contexts and theories.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Oooh, yes! I can see this so clearly: the demon worm feeding on the heart of the rose. Thanks for joining the discussion Shen.

Ostensible Truth said...

like Jen Revved I saw that association

but it actually screams of depression to me or other such mental illnesses - red rose that is sick by the invisible worm that flies in the night! or rather him watching someone, a lover perhaps, unable to help... then of course the obvious "passion" connotations - the secret lover - promiscuity perhaps, adultery even - but no I stick with my first interpretation -