Opportunity

by Edward Rowland Sill


     Before I get started here, I just want to state that I actually quite like this poem. It will not always be the case, as with "The Children's Hour," that works I make fun of are works I dislike. Heck, Shakespeare will probably end up on here one day (cuz fuck Romeo and Juliet).

This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream: --

     We're off to a good start here! The man doesn't even know if this actually happened, or if he dreamed it. Either we've got some opium use going on, or Sill's got some majorly realistic dreams. Either way, this line is pure filler. It doesn't matter one bit if the events of the poem are supposed to have happened in real life or in the author's head. It's just a goddamned poem, we all know it's not really "real." You've only got three fucking stanzas here! If you must preface your poem with this kind of shit, pick which one you want the reader to temporarily believe, then write a better opening line that establishes that premise. Or, better yet, just get on with it!

The Children's Hour

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

     What utter sentimental crap.
     My mother used to read this poem to me when I was a child, and I've always hated it, so I figure this is a good one to start this new venture on. Presumably, she thought that, because I was a child, I would appreciate a poem about children. I didn't. (I wanted her to flip the pages of her slim volume of poetry a few to the right and read "The Raven," which has a beautiful musical quality to it even if you don't get the allusions or understand quite what is happening.)
     The entirety of the poem is quoted here, in purple italics. Let us begin.

Between the dark and the daylight,
     When the light is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations
     That is known as the Children's Hour.

     Oh God, you just know this is going to be awful. "THIS IS A POEM. IT HAS METER AND RHYME LIKE A NURSERY RHYME BECAUSE IT'S ABOUT CHILDREN, SEE?" Not to mention, for a first stanza that rhyme is just damned lazy. Throughout this whole poem, Longfellow doesn't really seem to care about when he uses lazy rhymes or perfect rhymes, like he never even wanted to write this poem in the first place. Well, you know what, Henry? We all wish you hadn't.

Change of Plan

So, obviously, I haven't been updating this blog in, like, years. College was happening, sorry. And... buying a house and.. God, how long has it been since my last update here? Damn.

Anyway, my husband came up with a great blog idea the other night, based on some of the conversations I've had with him about literature. I have some very strong opinions about books and poems and plays that are considered "classics" and capital-I "Important." After all, I do have a Bachelor's in English. Oftentimes, though, my more negative opinions spill out of my mouth laced with expletives and curses upon the now-dead author. I mean, have you read Moby Dick? It is probably the most boring, long-winded piece of shit I have ever slogged through. Its sole redeeming feature is Chapter 95. But it must be read; it's capital-I "Important." And I don't argue that. It has had a lot of influence on our culture, and in summary it creates a beautiful metaphor for life. But it's a terrible read.

So, basically, I will still be reviewing books here (and poems and plays), but I won't be giving star-ratings, I won't be reviewing new things, and I won't be dwelling too long on the positive aspects of whatever I'm reviewing.

I hope to update about once a month, maybe more often if I'm feeling particularly opinionated.