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I have a confession to make. I once thought, and perhaps still think Emily Dickinson's "If You Were Coming in the Fall" was my favorite love poem of all time. It's beautiful in its simplicity and the imagery is vivid. It also has a wonderfully musical meter that makes it incredibly pleasing to hear. But it is not the sort of poem that an intellectual should list as their favorite. It's somewhat juvenile stylistically and the symbolism therein is either very obvious or nonexistent. Understanding it didn't take a lot of effort. I don't sound more intelligent for being able to decipher what it means. Essentially, my love of this poem is as if I thought Taylor Swift's lyrics were better than Of Montreal's.

http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/emilydickinson/10463

Now, I may have a new favorite love poem. It is T. S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock". Eliot is the more intelligent choice, and I do think his poetry has more depth than Dickinson's. It still has the beautiful flow, vivid imagery, and simplicity that I liked in "If You Were Coming in the Fall", but it's the grown-up version. I read or hear "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", and instead of the warm fuzzy feeling I get from Emily Dickinson's poetry, I get a feeling of a deep stillness, a wisdom that I seldom find in myself. This poem is a love story for adults, for realists, for those who have loved and those who have lost, and for those who are still searching. It's a poem that embodies longing, a motif I've touched on in previous posts. It sees beauty in the everyday sadness of the last glowing embers of a passion. It sees that love is ironic sometimes and that nothing, as unique as it feels to you, is ever really as new to the world as it is to you. In essence, this isn't a love poem at all, not in the traditional sense. Regardless, it's beautiful and perhaps you, dear reader, should take a look.

http://www.bartleby.com/198/1.html

"Sweet and matchless Josephine, how strangely you work upon my heart"

I am generally not a sucker for a love story. See “Romance” under “Things Everyone But Me Likes”. Yet, I am and always have been captivated by the story of Napoleon and Josephine. The basic plotline is as follows, played out in a serious of passionate letters:

Napoleon Bonaparte, a young Revolutionary soldier, meets the unbelievably beautiful Josephine Beauharnhais, a widowed socialite and mother of two.

He courts her, eventually obtaining her hand in marriage.

Napoleon goes off to war. Josephine is home, lonely and bored. She takes on many lovers, and eventually Napoleon finds out.

He is heartbroken and angry and feels he must ask for a divorce, though he loves her still. Josephine convinces him otherwise. He never lets her live down her infidelity, but they move past this obstacle.

Napoleon is crowned Emperor, and in a touching ceremony, bestows the title Empress on Josephine.

They seem to be unable to conceive a child, a problem Napoleon blames on himself. The pressure increases for him to bear an heir.

One of Napoleon’s mistresses (he is the cheater now, still making up for Josephine’s adultery) has a baby by him, which he cannot claim legally. He then realizes he is able to conceive children after all and begins blaming the problem on Josephine.

He divorces Josephine and marries 18-year-old Marie Louise of Austria. Napoleon and Marie Louise conceive a son, Napoleon’s heir.

Napoleon is exiled to Elba. He and Josephine continue to write letters as they always had. She asks to be permitted to join him in Elba in the last letter she ever writes, dying before she receives his reply.

When Napoleon escapes and returns to Paris, the first thing he does is ask Josephine’s doctor what happened to her. The doctor tells him she died of a broken heart.

Napoleon dies. His last words are rumored to have been “France, the army, Josephine”.

Hola, bonjour, and bonjourno!

Good afternoon, bloggity-followers! I hope you are all doing swimmingly.

Today, I am nearly finished Christmas shopping. I have but two items remaining to purchase, and I believe I will head to Kohl's and fight the masses in order to purchase them. In other news, I had a scrumptious dinner with my parents at The Twisted Fork last night. I do highly recommend the restaurant for moderately-priced, interesting takes on old favorites. There's a little something to excite every palate- I personally selected a lamb sirloin burger with tzatziki sauce and a cappuccino truffle for dessert. Twas delish. Our server, Chad, was very amusing. If you go to this restaurant and would rather have a laugh than fast service, he's the one for you!

Thought of the day: there is a thin line between love and hate. We only hate people we care enough about to be hurt by.

Tcaio, lovely ones!

Poem-type Thing

Word Exercises

Cat stares out the window at a
Cool Guy walking with a
Woman, down the street.
Are they in love?
A rose grows nearby-
A flower, looking at the various
Fauna.
Does it know Latin?
Can it comprehend Greek?
Like the architecture of the city that curls around.
Build! Build! Bigger-
Brick by brick, the contractors turn the world into
Mud brown, no longer blue and green.

Cool Guy tomorrow
Doesn’t notice the sun.
Cher plays in his ears,
Pop strains blurring the world.
A bottle lies on the street. Leaves it.
A fly lands on his finger. Brushes it off.
Airplanes float in
The sky, unnoticed-
Dark clouds drift by, unseen.
As the weather changes, bolts of
Lightning pierce the atmosphere, bright
Gold in their glory, leaving
Silver streaks before his eyes

Silver
Like the hair of aging Society Women
They know the truth.
Innocence is purity.
So sad it is for the jaded crowds that
Loneliness always equals
Emptiness.
An equation that adds up to
Lives not full of the substantial.
And for this, our future is unclear-
Almost like glass, when broken
We’ve shattered.

Letter to You

This is a letter to you. You will likely never read it, but that's all right. I just know I had to write it. First, I love you. I am very glad you're alive. You can be mad at me forever and I will never regret helping to save your life. You know, I prayed to a God I'm not even sure I believe in for you. I did everything I knew to do, and it must have worked, because here you are. I wrote a poem for you, love.

Step back from that ledge, my dear-

Can't you see we need you here?

In a world that's full of hurt and pain,

Can't you see we're all the same?

You never really can escape,

No matter what dark road you take.

So stay here and join the dance

I'm only asking that you give it a chance.

Alas, alack, you're still not free-

But I'm relieved that you're still here with me.

This life is how it was meant to be,

And if you stay, I know you'll see

That a day of love is worth a year of pain

And life is something you can't regain

But if you choose to yourself reclaim

I'll be with you, one and the same.