Quiet was the eminent morning, the slow journey of the twilight across the morning sky. Highlighted by streaks of color that danced across the arcing night sky, the morning was revealing to everyone yet another day of infinite possibility and wonder, tempting the inhabitants of all towns and grand palaces to stir and awaken from their nocturnal haven to make reality the greatest they could. As they pushed their minds to achieve and strive, others did not have the fortitude. The day was too daunting and prodigious for them to be achieved. And as they lay, endeavoring on to hope and find a way to mitigate this goal, they’re own thoughts became poisonous and morose, shaming them for trying again and reinforcing the set principles. These poor souls, these hollow people began to …show more content…
Many had fallen, many still were influenced still. But, as the light of kindness was steadily nurtured throughout the centuries, hope was never allowed to extinguish. Hope is the only force that can drive on willpower, and it is willpower that shapes the world and how it is operated. If willpower is fed with hate and corruption, the world being shaped by these forces will come out jagged and cruel, a grim shadow of our true beasteal desires that were born out of strive. This is happening right now, people are being haunted by strive, war, and alienation from others. These people will not just go away, and the more these problems are pushed away, the stronger they become, to the point of mass destruction. We must stop these horrible atrocities from becoming our reality, and we must keep passing the flame of courage and reliability, and we must keep removing these demons when we see them instead of not looking. Only through action can anything be accomplished, and we need action now more than ever, even down to the tiniest grains of pure kindness and scrupulous
In the stanzas of Elizabeth Bishop’s poem, the speaker very honestly observes the scenes from outside her apartment. From her point of view, she sees a both a bird and a dog in the process of sleeping. The speaker views these animals as having simple lives unbothered by endless questions or worries. Instead, the two live peaceful, uninterrupted existences, rising every morning knowing that “everything is answered” (ln. 22). However, the speaker lives in contrast to this statement instead anxiously awaiting the next day where uncertainty is a likely possibility. Unlike the dog and the bird, the speaker cannot sit passively by as the world continues in its cycle and she carries a variety of emotions, such as a sense of shame. It is evident here that the speaker has gone through or is currently undergoing some sort of struggle. When she states that “Yesterday brought to today so lightly!” she does so in longing for the world to recognize her for her issues by viewing the earth’s graces as so light of actions, and in doing so, she fails to recognize that she can no longer comprehend the beauty of nature that it offers her. In viewing the light hitting the trees as “gray light streaking each bare branch” (ln. 11), she only sees the monotony of the morning and condescends it to merely “another tree” (ln. 13.) To her, the morning is something
Edgar Allan Poe was born in Boston, Massachusetts, the son of actress Elizabeth Arnold Hopkins Poe and actor David Poe, Jr. His father abandoned the family in 1810, and his mother died of tuberculosis when he was only two, so Poe was taken into the home of John Allan, a successful tobacco merchant in Richmond, Virginia. Although his middle name is often misspelled as "Allen," it is actually "Allan" after this family. After attending the Misses Duborg boarding school in London and Manor School in Stoke Newington, London, England, Poe moved back to Richmond, Virginia, with the Allans in 1820. Poe registered at the University of Virginia in 1826, but only stayed there for one year. He was estranged from his foster father at some point in this period over gambling debts Poe had acquired while trying to get more spending money, and so Poe enlisted in the United States Army as a private using the name Edgar A. Perry on May 26, 1827. That same year, he released his first book, Tamarlane and Other Poems. After serving for two years and attaining the rank of Sergeant-major, Poe was discharged. In 1829, Poe's foster mother Frances Allan died and he published his second book, Al Aaraf. As per his foster mother's deathwish, Poe reconciled with his foster father, who coordinated an appointment for him to the United States Military Academy at West Point. His time at West Point was ill-fated, however, as Poe supposedly deliberately disobeyed orders and was dismissed. After that, his foster father repudiated him until his death in March 27, 1834.
Known for his mystery, macabre and detective fiction genre, Edgar Allan Poe is one of the most remembered poets of all time. Usually when people think of him, mind images of premature burials, murders, madmen, and mysterious women who are taken back from pure death like some zombie-like creatures comes to mind. In 1809, Edgar was born the second son out of three, two of which became actors. After the death of his mother and father at the age of three, John and Francis Allan raised him in Virginia. Edgar was sent to the best boarding schools and later on attended the University of Virginia where he was successfully academic. He was forced to leave due to refusement to pay his gambling debts. In 1827, he moved back to Boston and enlisted in the United States Army where his first poems titled Tamerlane, and Other Poems were published.
The vision of the mind is easily portrayed through the art of literature, painting a picture with the stroke of words. The natural inspiration that influences the creation of these works is derived from the life and the experiences of the creator. For some, these tales become stories and those stories become novels, but for one man it meant so much more. The works of Edgar Allan Poe became his life; he expressed every feeling and every moment of his existence through ink and paper. Poe involved his entire life in his writing, leaving no element of the story untouched by his trademark of a past. His work became so unique and unorthodox, yet it did not lack the attention it deserved. The American critic, Curtis Hidden Page, suggested that “the essence of his work is logic, logic entirely divorced from reality, and seeming to arise superior to reality” (Quinn 31). The foundation of Poe’s stories seems simple enough, but beneath the surface remains unanswered questions and undiscovered truths, which have yet to be uncovered. The people and experiences throughout Edgar Allan Poe’s lifetime have influenced various themes including: insanity, revenge, death, and guilt which can be distinguished through a collection of his works.
Edgar Allan Poe was born in Boston, Massachusetts, to parents who were traveling actors. His father David Poe Jr. died probably in 1810. Elizabeth Hopkins Poe died in 1811, leaving three children. Edgar was taken into the home of a merchant from Richmond named John Allan. The remaining children were cared for by others. Poe's brother William died young and sister Rosalie later became insane. At the age of five Poe could recite passages of English poetry. Later one of his teachers in Richmond said: "While the other boys wrote mere mechanical verses, Poe wrote genuine poetry; the boy was a born poet." Poe was brought up partly in England (1815-20), where he attended Manor School at Stoke Newington. Later it became the setting for his story 'William Wilson'. Since Poe was never legally adopted, he took Allan's name for his middle name. Poe attended the University of Virginia (1826-27), but was expelled for not paying his gambling debts. His expulsion led to a quarrel with Allan, who refused to pay the debts. Allan later disowned him. In 1826 Poe became engaged to Elmira Royster, but her parents broke off the engagement. During his stay at the university, Poe wrote some stories, but not much is known of his beginning works.
“All we ever see or seem is but a dream within a dream.” This was a quote by Edgar Allan Poe that was included in his poem A Dream Within A Dream. This quote basically means that life is nothing but a dream, a long one perhaps, but it is one that you only awaken from when you died, or about to die. I really like this poem because sometimes I often wonder, what if life was really just a dream, and death is when you awaken and cross into another world; one that is more perfect and jovial than the one that existed in “life.”? Edgar Allan Poe was an American writer in the Poe often wrote about death and fear, for these two things seem to be the main focus points of Poe literary works. Edgar Allan Poe’s writing are often serious, talking about dark things, and they usually seem to reflect his childhood,his love life, and his view of what life basically is.
Throughout the life of Edgar Allan Poe, he suffered many unfortunate events and endured several difficult situations. Some speculate that it was these experiences that helped to formulate the famous writing style of Edgar Allan Poe. His dark tales such as "The Masque of the Red Death" and "The Tell-Tale Heart" are horrific, and his poems such as "Alone" and "The Raven" show evidence that his life experiences influenced their dreariness. Poe's story plots and his own life are undeniably related and this relationship is intricately defined in many of his works.
Edgar Allan Poe was not your typical poet. He had a very depressing life, and that has influenced the majority of his works. He was in the military, had his wife die prematurely, and had the constant struggles of life crashing down on him. Edgar Allan Poe was a great writer who used mystery and lost love as popular themes to intrigue many readers to pose questions regarding death and romance. His parents supported him, allowing him to be educated, but that would eventually lead to failure.
The life of Edgar Allan Poe, was stuffed with tragedies that all affected his art. From the very start of his writing career, he adored writing poems for the ladies in his life. When he reached adulthood and came to the realization of how harsh life could be, his writing grew to be darker and more disturbing, possibly as a result of his intense experimenting with opium and alcohol. His stories continue to be some of the most frightening stories ever composed, because of this, some have considered this to be the reason behind these themes. Many historians and literature enthusiasts have presumed his volatile love life as the source while others have credited it to his substance abuse. The influence of his one-of-a-kind writing is more than likely a combination of both theories; but the main factor is the death of many of his loved ones and the abuse which he endured. This, not surprisingly, darkened his perspective considerably.
Lauter, Paul. The Heath Anthology of American Literature Fifth Edition Volume B Early Nineteenth Century: 1800-1865 2006
We all remember these grey gloomy days filled with a feeling of despair that saddens the heart from top to bottom. Even though, there may be joy in one’s heart, the atmosphere turns the soul cold and inert. Autumn is the nest of this particular type of days despite its hidden beauty. The sun seems foreign, and the nights are darker than usual enveloped by a thrill that generates chills to travel through the spine leaving you with a feeling of insecurity. Nevertheless, the thinnest of light will always shine through the deepest darkness; in fact, darkness amplifies the beauty and intensity of a sparkle. There I found myself trapped within the four walls of my house, all alone, surrounded by the viscosity of this type of day. I could hear some horrifying voices going through my mind led by unappealing suicidal thought. Boredom had me encaged, completely at its mercy. I needed to go far away, and escape from this morbid house which was wearing me down to the grave. Hope was purely what I was seeking in the middle of the city. Outside, the air was heavy. No beautifully rounded clouds, nor sunrays where available to be admired through the thick grey coat formed by the mist embedded in the streets. Though, I felt quite relieved to notice that I was not alone to feel that emptiness inside myself as I was trying to engage merchant who shown similar “symptoms” of my condition. The atmosphere definitely had a contagious effect spreading through the hearts of every pedestrian that day. Very quickly, what seemed to be comforting me at first, turned out to be deepening me in solitude. In the city park, walking ahead of me, I saw a little boy who had long hair attached with a black bandana.
The poem "Alone" by Edgar Allan Poe, written in 1830, is about how Poe was always different, and he could never really fit in, he was always sad. The meaning of the poem "Alone", is that of Poe being so different, being left out, not fitting in, and the feeling of sorrowness. The poem is attempting to teach the meaning by the way Poe writes of his sorrowness and his sense of being different, his seeking to solve the mystery of why he "lives" and why he was born, and finally why his life is so different, when others are living completely normal and happy lives.
Away from the immense sea, white foams from the waves gather gently onto the golden shore. Now, half of a glowing, radiant light looms across the water 's horizon. The sea turns blood-red and darkness creeps up like a thief. The necklace that once reflected its passionate energy of fury moments ago now resembled a mere costume jewellery. Perhaps the loss of the necklace’s elegance and sophistication was the reason to why it was disregarded. Pity the owner did not see the necklace radiating its splendour at its peak. Anyhow, the nightfall creates a sensation of joy and tranquillity in me. Every sight and sound stimulates a sense of composure and serenity; and the effect is heightened by the absence of the noisy bustle of our daily work, only to be exposed to the never-ending music of the waves, and to breathe the fresh air instead of the stale atmosphere of classrooms. It is not easy to describe the effect of this sight; it can only be strangely deciphered in my mind. It is however, a very tangible and distinct emotion, though its allure really depends upon the reality of the world from a further point of view, away from the definite predictabilities of the world, all in which an instant becomes like a translucent drape which almost consents me to catch a glimpse of a ideal and more breath-taking reality. The worldly desires, expectations, worries, schemes, suddenly cease to exist. It is as though all of
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.
During this specific night, an army of mysterious, murky clouds seized control of divine sky, devouring the sun. Favored by the troops, the moon, displaying its glorious luminescence upon a shadowy city, wins a triumphant victory over the sun. A ferocious leader of the army activates the withdrawal then leads dedicated soldiers to west as if they are tracking down a wild dog. On the other hand, the city transmits its vivid and righteous illuminations back to the sky to let people in the “second floor” know that “era of tranquility” began. Imagine the astonishing night, rigid and bright buildings lie elegantly on the moonlight sky, bring lights gaze from the thousands of bulbs. It is beautiful, yet no one knows what beauty is upon them.