Can somebody tell me why this is considered fine poetry?

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1

Yeah, I had to analyse this piece of litterature, a poem by Walt Whitman, according to my book regarded as one of the greatest of the American poets in the late 1800. And while I see that he’s got a few interesting and catchy poems, I can’t really come to terms with the one I was working with.
Yes, it starts out good and all, but wait for the “it shall be you!” part, and then start cracking the metafors in that one. You’ll see what I mean.

<u>Walt Whitman A Kosmos</u>

Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son,
Turbulent, fleshy, sesual, eating, drinking and breeding,
No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them,
No more modest than immodest.

Unscrew the locks from the dorrs!
Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!

Whoever degrades another degrades me,
And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.

Through me the afflatus surging and surging, through me the current and index.

I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy,
By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of on the same terms.

Through me many long dumb voices,
Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves,
Voices of the diseas’d and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs,
Voices of cycles of preparation ad accretion,
And of the threads that connect the stars, and of wombs and of the father-stuff,
And of the rights of them the others are down upon,
Of the deform’d, trivial, flat, foolish, despised,
Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of dung.

Through me forbidden voices,
Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil’d and I remove the veil,
Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur’d.

I do not press my fingers across my mouth,
I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart,
Copulation is no more rank to me than death is.

I believe in the flesh and the appetites,
Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.

Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touch’d from,
The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer,
This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.

If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of my own body, or any part of it,
Transculent mould of me it shall be you!
Shaded ledges and rests it shall be you!
Firm masculine colter it shall be you!
Whatever goes to the tilth of me it shall be you!
You my right blood! your milky stram pale strippings of my life!
Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you!
My brain it shall be your occult convolutions!
Rood of wash’d sweet-flag! timorous pond-snipe!
nest of guarded duplicate eggs! it shall be you!
Mix’d tussled hay of head, beard and brawn, it shall be you!
Trickling sap of maple, fibre of manly wheat, it shall be you!
Sun so generous it shall be you!
Vapors lightning and shading my face it shall be you!
You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you!
Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be you!
Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger in my winding paths, it shall be you!
Hands I have taken, face I have kiss’d, mortal I have ever touch’d, it shall be you.
I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious,
Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy,
I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of my faintest wish,
Not the cause of the friendship I emit, not the cause of the friendship I take again.

That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be,
A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.

To behold the day-break!
The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows,
The air tastes good to my palate.
Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising, freshly exuding,
Scooting obliquely high and low.

Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs,
Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven.

The earth by the sky staid with, the daily close of their junction,
The heav’d challenge from the east that moment over my head,
The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be master!

2

Whitman was the first American poet to really stand for the common person. In the stanza about the voices, he is saying that he will represent these people that no one generally listens to and allow their voices to be heard. Though his poetry may not seem to flow, that’s due to the fact he uses free verse with no rhyme or meter. I actually have found Whitman to be one of the better poets- you’ve just got to get used to him really. He didn’t always intend for you to understand his poetry completely the first few times you read it.

3

It’s like art; it’s supposed to convey the artist’s feelings at the time, as if you were peering into his very soul. Mr. Whitman apparently possesses the skill to write exactly what is running through his mind at the time. Try it yourself sometime; it’s really hard!

4

Think Wally was hittin’ the bottle during that last stanza? :smiley:

Can’t really add anything to what Kagon’s saying. He’s got it pretty much nailed down as far as I can see. The populist sentiment is really rather overt there. And there’s definitely a lot more free form action there than you’re going to find in general in 19th century poetry.

5

Oops, that’s not the full poem… how the heck did that get posted before I was done writing? O_o The complete one is in the other thread.

6

I can understand the populist sentiment, but mostly it’s left me confused.

7

There, fixed!
And yeah, I think that the part about voices and democracy is good, it’s all those self-loving cries of twisted metaphors that gets to me. Or am I a pervert to think that “Firm masculine colter” and “nest of guarded duplicate eggs” have another meaning?

8

Thanks! You gave me a headache!

9

Ugh, don’t ask me. I hate poetry like this :stuck_out_tongue:

10

i dont consider walt whitman to be a fine poet. hes the most overrated thing since ducks.

the USA has produced basically nothing in terms of good literature.

11

Originally posted by Silhouette
[b]i dont consider walt whitman to be a fine poet. hes the most overrated thing since ducks.

the USA has produced basically nothing in terms of good literature. [/b]

I agree, America Sucks

12

Originally posted by Silhouette
the USA has produced basically nothing in terms of good literature.
I bet alot of Mark Twain, Herman Melville, and Emily Dickenson fans disagree with you. Most modern novels that hit world-wide best-sellers lists come from the US.

Where was Jules Vernes from?

13

i like herman melville, edgar poe, jd salinger, and the great gatsby. i didnt say that not one good book ever came from here. also, most bestsellers are garbage. about 99.99999% of all fiction is utter bullshit.

14

Originally posted by Silhouette
[b]i dont consider walt whitman to be a fine poet. hes the most overrated thing since ducks.

the USA has produced basically nothing in terms of good literature. [/b]

Yes, there are crappy American poets. There are also crappy British poets, crappy German poets, crappy asian poets, crappy african poets, crappy canadian poets, crappy venezuelian poets, crappy…goes on for seven hours

In fact, for every one good poet from ANY place you find, you get nine hundred ones that don’t deserve to even have a pencil. Whitman, however, is a damn fine poet if you take the time to get into him. If you just skim his poem, it won’t do you any good.

15

almost all literature that i like comes from europe and asia. per capita, i would say that most of the good literature out there originates from europe.

16

Originally posted by Silhouette
almost all literature that i like comes from europe and asia. per capita, i would say that most of the good literature out there originates from europe.

I agree

17

the USA has produced basically nothing in terms of good literature

That is possibly one of the most ignorant things I have ever heard.

Saying that the United States has only been around for 200 years, as opposed to the thousands of years of Euopean and Asian history, I’d say we have produced a huge amount of brilliant work.

Have you even heard of William Faulkner? CC Cummings? Maya Angelou? Henry David Theroe? Someone who has actualy learned about American Literature, would probly never said the United States has never produced anything worthwhile.

Edit: You also have your favorate book listed as “Catcher in the Rye”!

18

I think the list of crazy metaphors is supposed to represent like, these things he lists are beautiful because they are part of him, part of an individual human being - but he uses nature metaphors to sort of, connect the human being to God and God to nature, and to glorify otherwise mundane humanity by describing these things so beautifully - and he sorta intertwines those descriptions with nature around the man, to…I guess, make the point that they’re connected and that connection is beautiful, and that’s what’s beautiful, that’s what’s holy, more holy than "churches, bibles, and all the creeds. " And that nature and the fact that he is part of it brings him far more joy and spiritual satisfaction than any books or teachings.

I guess…I mean, that’s what I got out of the poem. It’s pretty cool.

-Mazrim Taim

19

Originally posted by BlueMageOne
[b]That is possibly one of the most ignorant things I have ever heard.

Saying that the United States has only been around for 200 years, as opposed to the thousands of years of Euopean and Asian history, I’d say we have produced a huge amount of brilliant work.

Have you even heard of William Faulkner? CC Cummings? Maya Angelou? Henry David Theroe? Someone who has actualy learned about American Literature, would probly never said the United States has never produced anything worthwhile.

Edit: You also have your favorate book listed as “Catcher in the Rye”! [/b]

maybe you should read my other 15 posts in this thread before posting your absurd lunacy.

posts such as:

i like herman melville, edgar poe, jd salinger, and the great gatsby. i didnt say that not one good book ever came from here. also, most bestsellers are garbage. about 99.99999% of all fiction is utter bullshit.

do you know who the author of the catcher in the rye is? i also assume that you meant to say e.e. cummings rather than c.c., you scholar, you.

20

sigh Whatever, I don’t understand why you could say that nothing good came out of the United States. Yes it is EE Cummings, I’m very sorry. But you sound like everything that comes out of the United States is compleate crap, other then a handfull of authors. That simply is not true, and anyone with knowledge about american literature, would never say that.

Oh, Catcher in th Rye was writen by JD Salinger…