|
1 2 3 [4] 5 6
Comment 25 of 55, added on October 19th, 2005 at 7:12 AM.
One measure is the number of comments garnered. Is it really her "suicide
note" -- what if we didn't know anything about her life. Perhaps she
couldn't help but write it. It is eloquent, and darkly beautiful. Languid.
Even sensual. Profound. Very sad. She could not live. She is not
giving excuses. She bravely and dangerously wrests her inner turmoil and
illness out into the open -- not to impress or for praise or any of that
(-- thus the epigram by Artaud -- she did it because she had to -- ) such
private intimate visceral things so personal she couldn't know them herself
until she put them out for the public to ooo, ahh, gawk and spit upon.
Yes, what a sad life. What a loss. What if she had kept it all inside?
Even a greater loss.
Robert from United States
Comment 24 of 55, added on October 17th, 2005 at 7:28 PM.
right. sure. whatever. you don't have to be ill to be a poet. i know plenty
of miserable assholes out there and they're not writing poetry. there is no
valid point in what todd has said that hasn't been said before. he's just
waxing it. as for youif you want to blow him then blow him, just don't
think your two cents added on to his-has any value.
zoo
Comment 23 of 55, added on October 3rd, 2005 at 3:05 AM.
Actually Todd said something very important in my opinion. I don't know a
single poet who is not tortured. I think the illness creates the Poet.
Jade
Comment 22 of 55, added on September 21st, 2005 at 8:05 PM.
todd is stupid. you don't know what you're talking about. you just like to
put things into neat little packages with broad labels. say something
original or don't say anything at all.
zoo from United States
Comment 21 of 55, added on June 21st, 2005 at 9:55 PM.
So do we have the Poet because of the illness, or the illness because of
the Poet. You can't show me a Poet that is not troubled or tormented or
demonized. Even the Poets that write of trees, bees and dandelions must
face the everyday hell we call society. Tortured from the inside, tortured
from the outside- take your pick.
Todd from United States
Comment 20 of 55, added on May 26th, 2005 at 4:01 PM.
I think that in the last stanza, Anne is trying to make the reader
understand that she does not picture the afterlife to be a beautiful place
that she can escape to, she does not expect people to feel remorse for her
when she is gone. That's not the point of her "suicide". I don't think she
really states a point to her suicide, rather she states all the reasons
that she ISN'T doing it.
Matt from United States
Comment 19 of 55, added on May 22nd, 2005 at 7:32 AM.
well, she did commit suicide...she actually sipped vodka in her red
convertible with the garage closed until it filled up with carbon monoxide
and she died of asphixiation...im doing a research paper on her for my LA
class and although she was very privaleged, her father and mother sexually
abused her...her closest familial relationship was to her aunt who was also
chronically depressed and died of suicide as well. she had a terrible
life...she also was chronically depressed, and suffered from anxiety
disorder. She actually ONLY began writing because her therapist told her
to...she was also a model...she is now known as one of the greatest
confessional poets of her time...but those of you who believe that suicide
is NOT the answer...i totally agree. There are support groups for that. =]
interested reader from United States
Comment 18 of 55, added on May 12th, 2005 at 6:45 PM.
I've just read all your comments, and I've been thinking this entire
time...who are we to judge another person over their oppinion of a poem no
one can ever be RIGHT on? hmm... well, personally, I think suicide is not
the best choice, and may seem completely irrationalto some while seeming
the only way out for others. I have come close to hurting myself, but
thoughts of others have always held me back. I think it depends the person
and how they are feeling at the moment. The problem with suicide is it's a
mistake one cannot regret later. Well, I'm using mistake in replacement
for a better word that i cannot think of. But most things in this world
one can regret after they have done them. Suicide is one of the few, or
possibly the only, that leaves no room for remorse or second chances.
I think Anne Sexton in this poem is accepting the consequences of suicide,
or maybe she is trying to put them in words. The phrase "Of course guitars
will not play!" caught my attention because she seems almost exasperated
with the reader, almost as if it is the READER that just simply cannot
understand how she feels and what she means. It is a poem that can be
interpretted many ways, and though there may be some religious allusions,
Sexton simply does not seem to care she about religion or that she would go
to hell. These are just my thoughts--everyone else is open to their own
interpretations, of suicide AND of the poem. I hope my thoughts maybe gave
deeper meaning to the poem, and gave all other readers some more food for
thought.
WOW I wrote an epic....awesome! sorry....I didn't mean to write an english
paper.... haha! Well... I hope everyone else enjoys this and all the other
poems as much as I do!
caroline from United States
Comment 17 of 55, added on May 4th, 2005 at 4:29 PM.
Amanda, you are stupid...you poopy head.
Kelsey/Tom/Arlo from United States
Comment 16 of 55, added on April 30th, 2005 at 4:02 PM.
wow she seems pretty trobled like she had a deep deep secret i think her
poems are beautiful i write poems to but never as good as hers
Laura from Ireland
This poem has been commented on more than 10 times. Click below to see the other comments.
1 2 3 [4] 5 6
|
One measure is the number of comments garnered. Is it really her "suicide
note" -- what if we didn't know anything about her life. Perhaps she
couldn't help but write it. It is eloquent, and darkly beautiful. Languid.
Even sensual. Profound. Very sad. She could not live. She is not
giving excuses. She bravely and dangerously wrests her inner turmoil and
illness out into the open -- not to impress or for praise or any of that
(-- thus the epigram by Artaud -- she did it because she had to -- ) such
private intimate visceral things so personal she couldn't know them herself
until she put them out for the public to ooo, ahh, gawk and spit upon.
Yes, what a sad life. What a loss. What if she had kept it all inside?
Even a greater loss.
Robert from United States