Apr 1, 2023·edited Apr 1, 2023Liked by Bridget Phetasy
For Want of a Nail
"For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a nail."
I read this poem in a comic book when I was around 13 and thought, "This writer is legendary! Comics are so profound!" Only years later did I discover the truth.
This poem is used in a favorite show of mine. Two, actually. The Mentalist and BONES; both aired on different networks and were semi-competitive with each other. My best friend and I bonded over our love of these shows. The Mentalist also heavily quoted this poem as a plot device for our antagonist, because it was supposed to represent him.
This poem brings back so many memories for me and how I ended up bonding with my best friend. As it became more than just a TV show for me - it became a lifelong friendship. So, this poem reminds me of the friendship that I have to this day.
Annabelle Lee - I experienced this poem first as a teen who felt it as only a broody, goth-oriented teen can: with every vacuous, naive cell, with exception of brain cells.
When revisited as a teacher, it struck me that this poem is deranged, written by someone unwell. Naturally, that made it more appealing. Yet, professional that I am, I teach it through the twin critical lenses of "poetic sound devices" and "the female objectified." Students are smarter than I was - they identify the narrator as a creepy stalker, and wonder if Annabelle Lee even existed at all, or was just a psychos fantasy.
Should we be sad at the glaring loss of innocence, or encouraged by the rejection of passive acceptance of female objectification and agency deficiency?
But the ending:
"For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea." - EA Poe
F×ck it! This is poem is a mood and I will never not love it.
For Want of a Nail
"For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a nail."
I read this poem in a comic book when I was around 13 and thought, "This writer is legendary! Comics are so profound!" Only years later did I discover the truth.
The Tyger by William Blake
“Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?”
This poem is used in a favorite show of mine. Two, actually. The Mentalist and BONES; both aired on different networks and were semi-competitive with each other. My best friend and I bonded over our love of these shows. The Mentalist also heavily quoted this poem as a plot device for our antagonist, because it was supposed to represent him.
This poem brings back so many memories for me and how I ended up bonding with my best friend. As it became more than just a TV show for me - it became a lifelong friendship. So, this poem reminds me of the friendship that I have to this day.
I have loved this poem by William Mearns since the first read. Perhaps because of the mystery and absurdist imagery:
Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
I wish, I wish he'd go away...
When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn't see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don't you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door... (slam!)
Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
Oh, how I wish he'd go away...
Annabelle Lee - I experienced this poem first as a teen who felt it as only a broody, goth-oriented teen can: with every vacuous, naive cell, with exception of brain cells.
When revisited as a teacher, it struck me that this poem is deranged, written by someone unwell. Naturally, that made it more appealing. Yet, professional that I am, I teach it through the twin critical lenses of "poetic sound devices" and "the female objectified." Students are smarter than I was - they identify the narrator as a creepy stalker, and wonder if Annabelle Lee even existed at all, or was just a psychos fantasy.
Should we be sad at the glaring loss of innocence, or encouraged by the rejection of passive acceptance of female objectification and agency deficiency?
But the ending:
"For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea." - EA Poe
F×ck it! This is poem is a mood and I will never not love it.
And this is always good - Douglas Murray at the Free Press, every Sunday
https://open.substack.com/pub/bariweiss/p/things-worth-remembering-william?r=3ezew&utm_medium=ios&utm_campaign=post
And this, which someone random sent me the other day:
Refugees
They have no need of our help
So do not tell me
These haggard faces could belong to you or me
Should life have dealt a different hand
We need to see them for who they really are
Chancers and scroungers
Layabouts and loungers
With bombs up their sleeves
Cut-throats and thieves
They are not
Welcome here
We should make them
Go back to where they came from
They cannot
Share our food
Share our homes
Share our countries
Instead let us
Build a wall to keep them out
It is not okay to say
These are people just like us
A place should only belong to those who are born there
Do not be so stupid to think that
The world can be looked at another way
Now read it from the bottom up.
Written by Brian Bilston
Just blundered into this, and sort of echoes bridget’s choice
We would rather be ruined than changed.
We would rather die in our dread than climb
the cross of the present and let our illusions die.
W. H. Auden
You are drawing me to you.
It is your art.
I am drawn.
- Saul Williams