Just a fun prompt from my Coursera course: “Sharpened Visions: A Poetry Workshop”

“Breaking Good”:

Re-poemifying a famous poem that has been de-poemifyied:

The line breaks have been removed from a well-known poem. The task was to turn this bit of writing back into a poem, creating lines and stanzas where we felt it made sense. Inevitably, the meaning of the poem would be altered, showcasing the importance of the “line” and “line break”. It was fun – give it a try!

ORIGINAL PROMPT

tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time; and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. out, out, brief candle! life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

 

MY VERSION

tomorrow,

and tomorrow,

and tomorrow,

creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

to the last syllable of recorded time;

and all our yesterdays

have lighted fools

the way to dusty death.

 

out, out, brief candle!

life’s but a walking shadow,

a poor player,

that struts and frets

his hour upon the stage

and then is heard no more.

it is a tale told by an idiot,

full of sound and fury,

signifying nothing.

 

ORIGINAL POEM

Speech: “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow”

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

(from Macbeth, spoken by Macbeth)

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

Drunk on Nature in Dickinson’s World

I read aloud this poem several times before any sort of meaning emerged. Interpreting poetry is still a weakness of mine, but I think I have deciphered a bit about Dickinson’s poem.

The poem inspired by this critical analysis essay:

A poem by Emily Dickinson, known by its first line, “I taste a liquor never brewed.”

I taste a liquor never brewed —
From Tankards scooped in Pearl —
Not all the Vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an Alcohol!

Inebriate of Air — am I —
And Debauchee of Dew —
Reeling — thro endless summer days —
From inns of Molten Blue —

When “Landlords” turn the drunken Bee
Out of the Foxglove’s door —
When Butterflies — renounce their “drams”
I shall but drink the more!

Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats —
And Saints — to windows run —
To see the little Tippler
Leaning against the — Sun —

First, the form, particularly how each line is either punctuated by dashes or rolls into the next line, is essential to realize connections between stanzas. There is an unmistakable rhythm and musicality that is pleasant to the ear, but more importantly, the long stops serve to showcase how nature is a central theme in the poem. Resting on “Dew”, “Butterflies”, “Inebriate of Air” especially… this emphasis on key nature-derived phrases paints a picture that the writer is not inebriated by alcohol, which one would assume if a person is drunk: “Not all the Vats upon the Rhine/Yield such an Alcohol”. Note the capitalization of Vats and Alcohol, drawing attention to the inadequacy of man-made liquor.

Second, the narrator is inebriated by nature itself, demonstrated by numerous metaphors throughout the entirety of the poem. The “Landlords” turn the drunken Bee out of Foxglove, a flower, while Butterflies abandon their “drams” (a medieval liquor flask), which allows the writer to drink all the more. She — presumably she, since we don’t know if the narrator is Dickinson herself, is drunk on summer days, reveling in her mirth as a “Debauchee of Dew”, which sends her “Reeling”, out of control, until the Seraphs (angels) of winter interrupt her drunken state.

I have discovered at least one interpretation of this poem, but I am sure there are many others unknown to me. I am stuck on the last stanza’s meaning and significance, and I have yet to figure out what happens to the writer in the end. What consequences might she suffer? I cannot uncover the meaning of the last three lines: “And Saints — to windows run –/To see the little Tippler/Leaning against the — Sun –“. I sense the results of the narrator’s actions are present in these lines, but the meaning is unclear to me.

If this poem were to reveal the inner mindset of Emily Dickinson, I would say that it suggests she would find herself among the naturalist writers of the 19th century, like Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau. She doesn’t state, necessarily, the importance of communing with nature, or preserving it, but instead becoming completely entranced by it. If you’ve ever stood on the grass, in the sunlight, focusing on nothing but the sun’s rays beating down on you, you can feel the power of nature – how it fills you with unencumbered joy and a sense of wonderment, how it makes you feel stronger and more aware of your natural surroundings, while the man-made world seems dim and gray in comparison. This is what I think of as I read her words. Nature is so potent that one can become drunk on the dew. If I were to guess at the idea presented here by Dickinson, broken down into its simplest form, it would be “Nature trumps civilization.”

 

*I feel it is my responsibility to note the possibility of bias on my part in this interpretation because I subscribe to the transcendental, naturalist view of the above mentioned writers. I may be attributing ideas to Dickinson that are of my own design, but I have attempted to read this poem with an open mind and no predetermined expectations.