An essay on a contemplation upon flowers

Some of them are unedited while some of them are. I apologise for not citing the sites as references.

An essay on a contemplation upon flowers

So as to try to follow that, I've got to disclose a bit of an embarrassment. Baudelaire was, for me, the kind of poet only certain kinds of people liked.

By this I don't mean Francophiles or the merely pretentious but there was something that set a devotee of C. It's hard to http: It's hard to put it into words- maybe you know it when you see it- but there was something sort of I'm no stranger to French poetry or literary bleakness, believe you me, but there was always something slightly creepy about Baudelaire, I could never put my finger on why I recoiled from it and what this meant.

There's the languid, morbid Romanticism, fond of grand statements and magnificent imagery; the surgically precise mastery of rhyme and meter I don't speak more than toddler's French but you can pretty much get a good sense of this stuff with the original text facing the English translations ; the utterly bleak yet exotic, nigh- perfumed insights, metaphoric associations and twists of phrase; the poet's own and those of his poetic subjects addictions and rhapsodies; the deep, indescribable longings muddled with spleen; the detestation of smug comfort and propriety with the love of the 'perverse', the 'occult' and the melodious rumination mixed with ominous, pervading ennui Well, call me a hardheaded New England Pragmatist, but there was something sort of suspiciously sickly about this guy.

I mean, here I am, I'm very ok with this.

An essay on a contemplation upon flowers

Not necessarily dying to be anywhere else or doing much else. I'm content, in my clean, well-lighted place down the street from the apt. My oldest friend, a fine poet and a dedicated teacher and a loving husband and father, just loved this stuff when we were growing up.


Still does, in fact. I never quite got it- I mean, there's plenty to take from the poems AS poems but really, where does one relate? I wasn't outraged by Baudelaire, I was given the willies. I was just pretty definitively turned-off by an elaborately detailed, mockingly erotic poem about finding a maggot-teeming corpse, spreadeagled, in the middle of a spring stroll with your lover I get it, I get it, but I'm gonna start slowly backing away now, ok?

I didn't get it, and I didn't even really want to.

King Lear: Entire Play

Now that's totally changed. I don't quite know why. I think it's got something to do with reading Walter Benjamin's interesting take on Baudelaire's style and literary achievement on a bus on the way to visit said friend.LETTER I. By your permission I lay before you, in a series of letters, the results of my researches upon beauty and art.

I am keenly sensible of the importance as . Feb 09,  · Compare and Contrast “Flowers” and “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” In “Flowers” written by Margaret Atwood there is a looming feeling of the last time for many things. The poem opens with the line “Right now I am the Flower girl”; this line gives a time frame for the narrator.

Fifty Essays

In ‘A Contemplation Upon Flowers’, King presents a message that states that we humans live through a cycle that we must learn to accept. King masterfully explained this message by comparing our life cycle with that of a flower. A Contemplation Upon Flowers Words Jun 5th, 8 Pages In the poem A Contemplation Upon Flowers by Henry King the comparison of the life of a simple flower is made to the life of a human, in the sense that we both are born, we both live, and we both must die.

Paul Kingsnorth is a writer and poet living in Cumbria, England. He is the author of several books, including the poetry collection Kidland and his fictional debut The Wake, winner of the Gordon Burn Prize and the Bookseller Book of the Year Award. Kingsnorth is the cofounder and director of the Dark Mountain Project, a network of writers, artists, and thinkers.

That is the secret of all culture: it does not provide artificial limbs, wax noses or spectacles—that which can provide these things is, rather, only sham education.

Commenting and Commentaries by C. H. Spurgeon