Here at Modern Art Quotes we like to honor our dead poets properly, (really it's just my blog, but 'we' sounds more official somehow). And yes Dead Poets Society remains as one of my all time favorite movies, call me a poetry nerd if you want to, that is okay with me. So, in that vein (not that she is a nerd, but she is certainly a dead poet to be celebrated) I would like to present the Emily Dickinson (whose birthday was today's date; December 10th in 1830) poem, Reticence:
RETICENCE.
The reticent volcano keeps
His never slumbering plan;
Confided are his projects pink
To no precarious man.
If nature will not tell the tale
Jehovah told to her,
Can human nature not survive
Without a listener?
Admonished by her buckled lips
Let every babbler be.
The only secret people keep
Is Immortality.
I took some time to re-read some of Dickinson's poetry to decide which one I was going to pontificate about and this one attracted my attention as one of my favorites. Reticence, by the way, (I had to look it up) means: reluctant, especially in regards to speaking freely. What I really like about the poem is especially the last four lines. There is something about those words that really speaks to me and to my sense about the power of words to inspire mystery, Admonished by her buckling lips, Let every babbler be, the only secret people keep, is immortality, I mean it's simple yet brilliant. It's something I have been striving for in my own style of late, mystery and beauty wrapped in a simple but powerful form.
The mystery of course is the lava inside the volcano; the knowledge. It's there, but not there to the casual observer. The sleeping, but not sleeping giant, with it's power unknown to fragile mankind. You need to listen (let every babbler be) and observe nature (the volcano) if you want to understand the mystery and power of immortality (can human nature survive without a listener) or what some people could refer to as 'God' or the immortal soul, consciousness. The mystery of the cosmos can be found in the observation of nature. At least that is what I take from the poem.
Dickinson's work in general has that element to it that some of Stephen King's novels have, of being able to be deeply personal but at the same time universal, speaking to our core. I am not trying to compare King's writing to poetry, (I know some of you out there just gasped). What I mean is that he has those moments and layers in a lot of his stories that intentionally strive for that inner core/universal chord experience.
The theme of the work can be basic and univeral (the experience of life and the journey to enlightenment) but wrapped up in a way that makes the journey more personal to you the reader, more direct to our own experience. Dickinson's work does this for me with her very extensive and properly placed vocabulary. Words like reticence, admonished, buckled, and many more well placed, thoughtfully chosen words in her other poems. Her very classic style combined with the striving towards spiritual experience, tapping into that universal stream of conciousness but with her own very kind of proper victorian style, I really dig it.
Some say her work is sad and depressing and I can see why they experience it like that, but for me there is joy to be found in the work in the sense that this was her meditation, this was her ecstasy if you will, her bliss. This is the window into her favorite past-time, the thing that allowed her to escape and be free - the act and process of writing and creating. I think her message is one of striving for joy and enlightenment.
RETICENCE.
The reticent volcano keeps
His never slumbering plan;
Confided are his projects pink
To no precarious man.
If nature will not tell the tale
Jehovah told to her,
Can human nature not survive
Without a listener?
Admonished by her buckled lips
Let every babbler be.
The only secret people keep
Is Immortality.
I took some time to re-read some of Dickinson's poetry to decide which one I was going to pontificate about and this one attracted my attention as one of my favorites. Reticence, by the way, (I had to look it up) means: reluctant, especially in regards to speaking freely. What I really like about the poem is especially the last four lines. There is something about those words that really speaks to me and to my sense about the power of words to inspire mystery, Admonished by her buckling lips, Let every babbler be, the only secret people keep, is immortality, I mean it's simple yet brilliant. It's something I have been striving for in my own style of late, mystery and beauty wrapped in a simple but powerful form.
The mystery of course is the lava inside the volcano; the knowledge. It's there, but not there to the casual observer. The sleeping, but not sleeping giant, with it's power unknown to fragile mankind. You need to listen (let every babbler be) and observe nature (the volcano) if you want to understand the mystery and power of immortality (can human nature survive without a listener) or what some people could refer to as 'God' or the immortal soul, consciousness. The mystery of the cosmos can be found in the observation of nature. At least that is what I take from the poem.
Dickinson's work in general has that element to it that some of Stephen King's novels have, of being able to be deeply personal but at the same time universal, speaking to our core. I am not trying to compare King's writing to poetry, (I know some of you out there just gasped). What I mean is that he has those moments and layers in a lot of his stories that intentionally strive for that inner core/universal chord experience.
The theme of the work can be basic and univeral (the experience of life and the journey to enlightenment) but wrapped up in a way that makes the journey more personal to you the reader, more direct to our own experience. Dickinson's work does this for me with her very extensive and properly placed vocabulary. Words like reticence, admonished, buckled, and many more well placed, thoughtfully chosen words in her other poems. Her very classic style combined with the striving towards spiritual experience, tapping into that universal stream of conciousness but with her own very kind of proper victorian style, I really dig it.
Some say her work is sad and depressing and I can see why they experience it like that, but for me there is joy to be found in the work in the sense that this was her meditation, this was her ecstasy if you will, her bliss. This is the window into her favorite past-time, the thing that allowed her to escape and be free - the act and process of writing and creating. I think her message is one of striving for joy and enlightenment.
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