Song Lyrics as Poetry

Death Can for Cuties--Follow You Into the Dark

Lyrics to I Will Follow You Into The Dark:


Love of mine some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark


No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark
If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs


If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark


In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles brusied by a lady in black
And I held my toungue as she told me
"Son fear is the heart of love"
So I never went back


If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs


If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark


You and me have seen everything to see
From Bangkok to Calgary
And the soles of your shoes are all worn down
The time for sleep is now
It's nothing to cry about
Cause we'll hold each other soon
The blackest of rooms


If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs


If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
Then I'll follow you into the dark

Follow You Into the Dark is full of symbols, similes, imagery, and allusion, and many other literary devices. The band, Death Cab for Cuties, uses ambiguity through out the song to describe love and death which is made clear with the lyric, "Love of mine some day you will die/But I'll be close behind/I'll follow you into the dark" The song is discussing suicide. Visual imagery is also used through out the song so that listeners can relate to it. 

Spring is like a perhaps hand

by E.E. Cummings

This years spring break, up until this week has been a "perhaps hand". From a sunny day to cloudy and rainy, back to cloudy and sunny. I think mother nature is bipolar. The beginning of spring break was nice and sunny, kids were given the opportunity to play outdoors and the older ones were given the opportunity to barbecue. As the weeks passed it got cloudy and the clouds started to form into rain clouds, at least I didn't have to wash my car. Now it is sunny and Bakersfield's nasty pollution has cleared up, for the moment. I can breath with ease, I'm loving it. I like this poem, because it reminds me of how constantly things change. Yet, regardless of the outcomes they will be good ones, as long as you don't allow those sudden changes in weather, or life, let you down.

Click the title to go to E.E. Cumming's poem.

Olde To Things

Ode to things
by Pablo Neruda

I have a crazy,
crazy love of things.
I like pliers,
and scissors.
I love
cups,
rings,
and bowls –
not to speak, of course,
of hats.
I love all things,
not just the grandest,
also the infinite-
ly
small –
thimbles,
spurs,
plates,
and flower vases.

Oh yes,
the planet
is sublime!
It’s full of
pipes
weaving
hand-held
through tobacco smoke,
and keys
and salt shakers –
everything,
I mean,
that is made
by the hand of man, every little thing:
shapely shoes,
and fabric,
and each new
bloodless birth
of gold,
eyeglasses,
carpenter’s nails,
brushes,
clocks, compasses,
coins, and the so-soft
softness of chairs.

Mankind has
built
oh so many
perfect
things!
Built them of wool
and of wood,
of glass and
of rope:
remarkable
tables,
ships, and stairways.

I love
all
things,
not because they are
passionate
or sweet-smelling
but because,
I don’t know,
because
this ocean is yours,
and mine:
these buttons
and wheels
and little
forgotten
treasures,
fans upon
whose feathers
love has scattered
its blossoms,
glasses, knives and
scissors –
all bear
the trace
of someone’s fingers
on their handle or surface,
the trace of a distant hand
lost
in the depths of forgetfulness.

I pause in houses,
streets and
elevators,
touching things,
identifying objects
that I secretly covet:
this one because it rings,
that one because
it’s as soft
as the softness of a woman’s hip,
that one there for its deep-sea color,
and that one for its velvet feel.

O irrevocable
river
of things:
no one can say
that I loved
only
fish,
or the plants of the jungle and the field,
that I loved
only
those things that leap and climb, desire, and survive.
It’s not true:
many things conspired
to tell me the whole story.
Not only did they touch me,
or my hand touched them:
they were
so close
that they were a part
of my being,
they were so alive with me
that they lived half my life
and will die half my death.


I chose Ode To Things, my understanding of the poem is that we shouldn't take the small things in life for granted. The author says, "I love all things, not because they are passionate or sweet-smelling but because, I don't know, because this ocean is yours, and mine", Meaning we should love things at all times, not because we like  a special feature of an item  or the smell of it. Everything on this earth should be cherished equally.

Wind and Window Flower

Wind and Window Flower 

By Robert Frost

  

    LOVERS, forget your love,

    And list to the love of these,

    She a window flower,

    And he a winter breeze.

    When the frosty window veil

    Was melted down at noon,

    And the cagèd yellow bird

    Hung over her in tune,

    He marked her through the pane,

    He could not help but mark,

    And only passed her by,

    To come again at dark.

    He was a winter wind,

    Concerned with ice and snow,

    Dead weeds and unmated birds,

    And little of love could know.

    But he sighed upon the sill,

    He gave the sash a shake,

    As witness all within

    Who lay that night awake.

    Perchance he half prevailed

    To win her for the flight

    From the firelit looking-glass

    And warm stove-window light.

    But the flower leaned aside

    And thought of naught to say,

    And morning found the breeze

    A hundred miles away.

I chose “Wind and Window Flower” because it displays a love in nature that is wanted, but is not meant to be. Robert Frost describes how the wind had an interest in the window flower, but he only passed her by.  I believe Frost was describing the wind as a person that was in love with the window flower, knowing little of love the wind was to hesitant to approach the window flower. Frost also describes the window flower as being shy and speechless; leaving the wind pondering if he would ever love.  

                Frost uses Imagery to convey the weather inside and outside of the house, the appearance of the window the wind was looking at the flower through, and audio to describe how nervous the wind was when he sighed. Foster also uses imagery to explain how far away the wind was from the flower after displaying his love to the flower. By giving the wind and the window flower human emotions, Foster is giving nature a since of personification.