|
Post by wildchild on Jan 20, 2005 22:02:35 GMT 6
Hey that's no way to say good bye by Leonard Cohen I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm, your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm, yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new, in city and in forest they smiled like me and you, but now it's come to distances and both of us must try, your eyes are soft with sorrow, Hey, that's no way to say goodbye. I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time, walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me, it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea, but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie, your eyes are soft with sorrow, Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm, your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm, yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new, in city and in forest they smiled like me and you, but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie, your eyes are soft with sorrow, Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
|
|
|
Post by Finlip on Jan 21, 2005 10:02:13 GMT 6
Thanks for the heart-touching poem.
|
|
|
Post by wildchild on Feb 20, 2005 21:03:23 GMT 6
Your welcome, Finlip. Here is another one. My teacher brought this poem in my class, and asked us to interpret it in our own way. We all had very different understanding of it. Lets play the same game here. What do you think is happening in this poem? Lets hear from you all.
My Papa's Waltz (by Theodore Roethke)
The whiskey on your breath could make a small boy dizzy, but I hung on like Death such waltzing was not easy.
We romped until the pans slid from the kitchen shelf, My mother's countenance Could not unfrown itself.
The hand that held my wrist was battered on one knuckle at every step you missed my right ear scraped a buckle.
You beat time on my head with a palm caked hard by dirt then waltzed me off to bed still clinging to your shirt.
|
|
|
Post by whitepepper on Feb 20, 2005 21:34:15 GMT 6
Isn't this about waltzing?
|
|
|
Post by wildchild on Feb 20, 2005 21:38:44 GMT 6
No Tara, it's not. Hey, try to read between the lines. Do you find this poem sad or happy?
|
|
|
Post by whitepepper on Feb 20, 2005 21:41:20 GMT 6
It's about abuse then.
|
|
|
Post by whitepepper on Feb 20, 2005 21:43:40 GMT 6
On second thought, it IS about waltzing with a drunken father.
|
|
|
Post by Finlip on Feb 25, 2005 9:52:43 GMT 6
Your welcome, Finlip. Here is another one. My teacher brought this poem in my class, and asked us to interpret it in our own way. We all had very different understanding of it. Lets play the same game here. What do you think is happening in this poem? Lets hear from you all. My Papa's Waltz (by Theodore Roethke) The whiskey on your breath could make a small boy dizzy, but I hung on like Death such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans slid from the kitchen shelf, My mother's countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist was battered on one knuckle at every step you missed my right ear scraped a buckle. You beat time on my head with a palm caked hard by dirt then waltzed me off to bed still clinging to your shirt. Yeah there's a drunken father and an angry mother out there. The poet is a young boy. He looks to be loving as well as being afraid of his dad. This wasn't very easy to understand. If I hear the writer recite his poem, it might be easier.
|
|
|
Post by whitepepper on Feb 25, 2005 13:03:46 GMT 6
I don't think the mother is 'angry' here...she's just helpless and disapproves of her husband's habit.
And I'm a little confused as to whether the child here is a male or a female. Anup, if you could explain why you said 'boy' particularly.
|
|
|
Post by Daredevil on Feb 25, 2005 16:24:26 GMT 6
i've heard this early .. but it's about child abuse i think... i'm not good at understanding well written poem... haha... this is bitter fact... but as far as i could understand this is poem bout the son who loves his father .... tea totaler...
|
|
|
Post by Finlip on Feb 25, 2005 18:56:15 GMT 6
I don't think the mother is 'angry' here...she's just helpless and disapproves of her husband's habit. And I'm a little confused as to whether the child here is a male or a female. Anup, if you could explain why you said 'boy' particularly. Read the second line of the poem, Tara.
|
|
|
Post by whitepepper on Feb 25, 2005 19:36:07 GMT 6
It could refer to any boy right? It doesn't point at the person who wrote the poem.
|
|
|
Post by Finlip on Feb 25, 2005 19:59:52 GMT 6
It could refer to any boy right? It doesn't point at the person who wrote the poem. The whiskey on your breath could make a small boy dizzy, but I hung on like Death such waltzing was not easy. I think its clear enough. ;D
|
|
|
Post by whitepepper on Feb 25, 2005 20:08:09 GMT 6
That's so literal. But anyway, different people see the poem in a different light.
|
|