Friday, February 11, 2011
Plunderverse
From "Evaluation of an Unwritten Poem"
by Wislawa Szymborska
In the poem's opening words
the authoress asserts that while the Earth is small,
the sky is excessively large and
in it there are, I quote, "too many stars for our own good."
In her depiction of the sky, one detects a certain helplessness,
the authoress is lost in a terrifying expanse,
she is startled by the planets' lifelessness,
and within her mind (which can only be called imprecise)
a question soon arises:
whether we are, in the end, alone
under the sun, all suns that ever shone.
Evaluation of an Unwritten Poem
by Wislawa Szymborska
In the poems opening words
the authoress asserts that while the Earth is small,
the sky is excessively large and
in it there are, I quote, "too many stars for our own good."
In her depiction ofsky detects a certain helplessness,
the authoress is lost in a terrifying expanse,
she is startled by the planet' lifelessness,
and within her mind (which can only be called imprecise)
a question soon arises:
whether we are, in the end, alone
under the sun, all suns that ever shone.
by Wislawa Szymborska
In the poem's opening words
the authoress asserts that while the Earth is small,
the sky is excessively large and
in it there are, I quote, "too many stars for our own good."
In her depiction of the sky, one detects a certain helplessness,
the authoress is lost in a terrifying expanse,
she is startled by the planets' lifelessness,
and within her mind (which can only be called imprecise)
a question soon arises:
whether we are, in the end, alone
under the sun, all suns that ever shone.
Evaluation of an Unwritten Poem
by Wislawa Szymborska
In the poems opening words
the authoress asserts that while the Earth is small,
the sky is excessively large and
in it there are, I quote, "too many stars for our own good."
In her depiction ofsky detects a certain helplessness,
the authoress is lost in a terrifying expanse,
she is startled by the planet' lifelessness,
and within her mind (which can only be called imprecise)
a question soon arises:
whether we are, in the end, alone
under the sun, all suns that ever shone.
7 comments:
Plunderverse? Is that like, a universe of loot? Mm, loot. Like the stars, it's pretty, and there is an unending quantity of never enough of it.
Yeah, sorry. I should have said; there's a write-up on this form and the prompt for writing on english1080.blogspot.com
Old 333,
Lots of loot in poems. That's why we're all raking in the big bucks!
Loot shmoot i do it for toots.
I may follow the link but not at this rate; loud NoMeansNo and red wine have plundered my verse. I neither write nor rede when like this; but thanks.
PG
I can conceive one being one alone under all the suns and one with them. Why need their be two?
the plundered poem is quietly beautiful; i am taken by how compelling it is.
neat
Quite a good plunder you have here John. Good work!
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