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Continual Conversation With A Silent Man Analysis



Author: poem of Wallace Stevens Type: poem Views: 9

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The old brown hen and the old blue sky,

Between the two we live and die--

The broken cartwheel on the hill.



As if, in the presence of the sea,

We dried our nets and mended sail

And talked of never-ending things,



Of the never-ending storm of will,

One will and many wills, and the wind,

Of many meanings in the leaves,



Brought down to one below the eaves,

Link, of that tempest, to the farm,

The chain of the turquoise hen and sky



And the wheel that broke as the cart went by.

It is not a voice that is under the eaves.

It is not speech, the sound we hear



In this conversation, but the sound

Of things and their motion: the other man,

A turquoise monster moving round.






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||| Analysis | Critique | Overview Below |||

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“Your mom asked menot to tell youover the phone.Just come home.Ok,but,promise you’ll stay calm.Are you sure?Your fahter died today.He was mowingthe lawn and he hada heart attack.”I couldn’t hear anythingafter that except the soundof my youthslamming shutand themockingbird laughterof Fate forever silencingmy Answer Man. x x

| Posted on 2013-11-17 | by a guest


.: :.

Last ConversationYou calledto wish me Happy Birthday,sweet sitxeen,from your hospital bedbut you repeated wordsand your thoughts were on a ramble,confused by trails I could not followI pointed out your blunder,which spurred your frustrationand spawned your angerending the call abruptly.Saddened that your mindwas decaying as fast as your body,I told myself the cancerwas talking, not really my Dad,but even so,our conversation on my birthdaylingered with underlying hurt,greedy with the needfor a more loving conversationon my birthday.

| Posted on 2013-11-15 | by a guest


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PHILOMELACircuits of sun over classroom,kindergarten that will last a lmeftiie –sweaters hung in rows in the cloakroom,cough drops in sticky pockets –and at last, it’s the blessed Hour of Art.Blunt-tip scissors and blank sheetsof paper. Poster paint, andcrayons stubbed and broken, but brightas jewels of the crown.One small girl squeals “here comethe easels!” A child’s gladdest hour,when she’s in love with color.But Teacher sits her head-downin the black canyon of Time-Out. No colors for this unpaintednight-bird, no plaint. Her fingers gripthe table’s wooden limb. x x

| Posted on 2013-11-13 | by a guest


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I love playing in flikcr (picnik). These photo-poem things are so much fun; the only problem I have is I end up taking way too many pictures, thinking oh, this would make a good poem! (it's probably a good thing I don't have an iphone.)

| Posted on 2013-11-12 | by a guest


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A review is *not* about whheetr you like something. It's an essay of sorts, so it is, by nature, your opinion, but the form requires that you evaluate your poem by the standards of what great poetry *ought* to be. It's no different from reviewing a movie in that regard. No one cares whheetr you liked the movie. If that it even mentioned, it should be briefly. Readers want to know whheetr *they* will like it. Your job is to tell us whheetr this is a great poem, a good one, a fair, one, or a lousy one, and to give us a *detailed* account of how you evaluated it. For example, tell us about its rhyme and meter, but then explain why/how they are appropriate (or not). Look at other language devices and do the same. What is the poem's theme? Is it something worthwhile. (Again, the big question is *not* whheetr you agree with the theme. You may mention that if you wish, but don't dwell.)Get the idea?Best wishes!

| Posted on 2013-11-10 | by a guest


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So far as I can tell, this poem is a religious allegory, and there are multiple symbols to tie this into death and other mortal coils. An example is the broken cart, symbolizing affairs of a person coming to the immediate halt after death, and leaving unfinished business behind. Other stanzas leave me thinking that Stevens was trying to further push his critique of himself and how he views religion into his poems, as he has done in many others. But, honestly, if you can get anything deeper than I pulled out of this, more power to you,and good luck in your future endeavors.

| Posted on 2011-11-21 | by a guest


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It is a beautiful but complex poem of Stevens\'..in which he shows a man\'s struggle with x his life he tries to maintain link between this world & hereafter,he always entangled between the afairs of life and with it ,he also want to get good position in the life-after death...so his life is like a cartwheel which breaks by DEATH..
DEATH IS THE GREATEST REALITY OF LIFE ,ONE CAN\'T ESCAPE FROM THAT.

| Posted on 2011-04-08 | by a guest




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