Can anybody help me with literary critiscm for emily dickinson's he put the belt around my life?
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Wow, I love searching for answers on questions like this- this is a tough one!\n\nThis was the ONLY thing I could find, a comment someone wrote...\n\nIt could be a man controlling her life--her father, Wadsworth, Higginson?--but it makes more sense to identify the "He" and "Whom" with god. The belt is some kind of sign of office, the one who puts the belt on the speaker is a "Duke" with "imperial" stature. Once belted, the speaker becomes a member of the elite and ethereal "Cloud." (If you wanted to you could read this a some kind of kinky bondage thing--The Story of E--but that would be inappropriate and less than tactful.)\n\nWith the second eight lines in place, I see the poem as a wry and witty, even slightly rueful, comment on ED's famous reclusivity. There might not have been a train she wouldn't take as it lapped up its miles, but in fact she did take very few, and she did care where they were going!\n\nAnd of course, like most of ED's other poems, you can sing it to the tune of "The Yellow Rose of Texas" or "Amazing Grace," or any other song in psalm meter.\n\nCiarog from United States \n\n\nAlternatively, I guess maybe background on Dickinson's usual themes might help?\n\nEmily Dickinson is such a unique poet that it is very difficult to place her in any single tradition—she seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Her poetic form, with her customary four-line stanzas, ABCB rhyme schemes, and alternations in iambic meter between tetrameter and trimeter, is derived from Psalms and Protestant hymns, but Dickinson so thoroughly appropriates the forms—interposing her own long, rhythmic dashes designed to interrupt the meter and indicate short pauses—that the resemblance seems quite faint. Her subjects are often parts of the topography of her own psyche; she explores her own feelings with painstaking and often painful honesty but never loses sight of their universal poetic application; one of her greatest techniques is to write about the particulars of her own emotions in a kind of universal homiletic or adage-like tone (“After great pain, a formal feeling comes”) that seems to describe the reader’s mind as well as it does the poet’s. Dickinson is not a “philosophical poet”; unlike Wordsworth or Yeats, she makes no effort to organize her thoughts and feelings into a coherent, unified worldview. Rather, her poems simply record thoughts and feelings experienced naturally over the course of a lifetime devoted to reflection and creativity: the powerful mind represented in these records is by turns astonishing, compelling, moving, and thought-provoking, and emerges much more vividly than if Dickinson had orchestrated her work according to a preconceived philosophical system.\nOf course, Dickinson’s greatest achievement as a poet of inwardness is her brilliant, diamond-hard language. Dickinson often writes aphoristically, meaning that she compresses a great deal of meaning into a very small number of words. This can make her poems hard to understand on a first reading, but when their meaning does unveil itself, it often explodes in the mind all at once, and lines that seemed baffling can become intensely and unforgettably clear. Other poems—many of her most famous, in fact—are much less difficult to understand, and they exhibit her extraordinary powers of observation and description. Dickinson’s imagination can lead her into very peculiar territory—some of her most famous poems are bizarre death-fantasies and astonishing metaphorical conceits—but she is equally deft in her navigation of the domestic, writing beautiful nature-lyrics alongside her wild flights of imagination and often combining the two with great facility.\n\nTo be perfectly honest, I think your best bet is to borrow a book from the library with criticism...\nAll the best, hope that helps somehow!
750380
Summarizing each paragraph as a simple sentence:\n\nPeople in America are fatter today than they have ever been.\n\nPundits keep trying to tie this phenomenom to a ressurgence in historical interest in the reign of King Henry VIII, who was VERY fat, but just wanted to live life to the fullest.\n\nThe author doesn't believe in the Plantagenet/obesity connection.\n\nNeither should you.
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What do *you* think?  \n\nLiterary criticism is worth nothing until you learn to form your own opinions of creative works.  I can tell you what *I* think but how are you going to know if I'm right unless you try and sort it out for yourself?\n\nUpdate: Actually I don't think much of this poem. It's far too literal and falls into plain diatribe by the end.  But anyway, update your question with your own opinions and I'll tell you if I think you're on the right track.\n\nUpdate: NO!  You're off to a great start!  Excellent thinking!  \n\nConsider the rock, the river, and the tree are obviously not supposed to be literally a rock, river, and tree, but metaphors. What do they stand for?  What are the characteristics of each?  What are the differences between them?  What is the promise of each?\n\nHint:  The rock never changes but provides a solid base.  The river flows and provides life-giving water.  The tree grows and always changes and gives comfort and shade.  What three things are also related like this?  One never changing below us, one always flowing by us, and the last always growing above us?\n\nOnce you see these the rest of the poem makes a lot more sense.\n\nAs for "tone", look for repetitive sounds in the poem.  What words rhyme?  What words repeat?  What vowel sounds are repeated?  Repetition and rhyme are used to emphasize certain words -- do you see any patterns?\n\nFinally most scholars interpret this poem to be a celebration of diversity and united effort, not necessarily about everyone having a second chance.  But I suppose that's a possibly sub-theme of the poem.\n\nUpdate: if you want more help please post in my 360 page.  This forum doesn't work well for repeated postings.
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I liked it and thought it was quite good and imaginative.  The only thing I didn't think was plausible about it was the name for your mother, as it does not fit in with common names of Roman or Greek goddesses.  Sorry.  Other than that, here are just a few editing suggestions for you.  Feel free to take them or leave them, as this is your story, after all.  \n\nedit: (I had anger issues at the time).\nreplace with: \nI guess you could say I had some anger issues at the time.  (makes it sound more playful)\n\nIn the sentence after that, reword it so that it doesn't use the words "many different plagues, many different disasters" repetitively.  \n\nedit: I also tried to destroy the world, but my mother brought this curse upon me first"--you should just change it to brought *A* curse upon me first (flows better).  \n\nedit: "Unfortunately for me, I always cause some sort of trouble in each of my lives, whether I'm using my magick for evil, or just being naughty and mischievous."  replace it with that, because it'll flow better.\n\nedit:  As many people know, it's forbidden for a goddess to love a mortal, but I still went to down to earth, pretended to be human and tried to make him fall for me. \nreplace with:\nNaturally it's forbidden for a goddess to love a mortal, yet I went down to earth anyway so that I could pretend to be a human and make him fall for me.  (flows better)\n\nSorry, I get very focused on editing.  Good luck, and it's very creative.  I enjoyed reading it.
980657
Awesome essay! You have very poetic writing. The essay had barely any errors, but there are just a couple small things I would change:\n\nMakes sure you underline A Tale of Two Cities. I know you can't do that in Answers, but just in case you didn't know.\nIn the first sentence, the colon should be a comma. In the second paragraph (first sentence) conveys shouldn't be capitalized, and in the last sentence, "thing" should be "things." Also, the second sentance isn't complete. I would probably rephrase the first sentence of the last paragraph, "This section in chapter five describes the miserable condition of the peasants in Paris, France during the 1800's, and the Jokers graffiti foreshadows the war that is soon to come." There's also a period missing at the end.\n\nOther than that, it was very, very good and you should be very, very proud. Nice vocabulary, by the way.
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It's a recounting of the biblical story of Abraham and Isaac.  Here's a really good essay I found that includes a section on Emily Dickinson, and this poem in particular.\n\nhttp://www2.sjsu.edu/depts/english/Warnerabraham.htm\nQuoting, "Dickinson's New England Puritanism images a God of relentless demand--Tyranny, the speaker names Him--and unflinching observation; God is a Mastiff, who can be cajoled by manners and obeisance.  Dickinson, like Powers in "Abraham," identifies Abraham's amazing faith which causes him to act without "a hesitation."  Unlike like Powers' voicing, Dickinson's portrayal is terse and tight.  The condensed wording and the economy achieved through the dashes highlight the silence from Sarah, Isaac, Abraham, and readers who articulate questions that remain unanswered.  Her word is "obeisance," emphasizing the subordinant stance of respectful submission.  Humans, on Dickinson's reading, can only appease this God-ruler with humble acquiesence."
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Here are two very good articles.  Be sure to quote your sources!\n\n"Another poem of hers that I love, "The Soul has Bandaged moments," concludes, referring to moments too horrible and personal to tell to just anybody, "These, are not brayed of Tongue." Perhaps the meaning is: "These ought not to be brayed of tongue," given that in a number of poems she seems to do just that. For a poet to conceive images and phrases that can be said to "bray," which are equivalents of the harsh, grating, dissonant sounds made by donkeys, in order to say what is too terrible to be said, would be like a singer attempting sounds the human voice cannot make without risk to itself and could possibly damage the psyche permanently."\n\n\n------------------------\n"Many of human experiences can fit well into Emily Dickinson's poem. Living a life as rich and colorful in its spiritual detail and as desperately sensitive to meaning and context, it was as quiet in its conduct as it was unremarkable in its demographics. She lived in Amherst, Massachusetts and composed a great deal of terse poetry, dense with metaphor about the human experience, and about coping and managing in the loneliness of her isolation. \nThere are two internal figures here, one godly one demonic, vying to conquer the soul. She is not only bandaged because of some hurtful wound but also bandaged as enslaved or caught up in the pain. A classic battle between good an evil. She begins the first stanza from within herself frightened by her fear, then imagines her fear personified in the second verse as some entity that has taken her captive; the self is numb to itself. By the third stanza, as she does so brilliantly well, she uses nature as metaphor in her landsacpe with a happy moment of escape; the 'bee who swings upon the hours' Emily collects the 'fuzz ordained' only to be caught again by shackling and stapled fears in the fifth stanza. A wonderful contrast of the human condition; a way of putting two elements side by side using one to highlight the other then finally she sums it all up with a compressed, hard, and blazingly vivid stanza she laments in this tiny poem, they are to "not brayed of Tongue" perhaps because to her these moments are too horrible and personal to tell to just anybody. \n\nBy using the context of the history of ideas from Calvinism to Transcendentalism she shows us the tension between the affirmative and the negative which is at the core of her work as a writer. By 1862, she had written nearly half of her work and at his time suffered a great loss. "I had a terror," she told Higginson her mentor and friend, "I could tell to none." It easy to understand her detachment and the desire for silence, a seeking for understanding. \n\nLess than a dozen of Dickinson's poems were printed during her lifetime -- some without her permission, some were full of radical "improvements" "Publication - is the auction of the mind..." she noted, with haughty resentment, maybe in some way trying to comfort herself, and she tied her poems in bundles and put them in a drawer."
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Nice poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Now, to answer your question, between me and either of my children - no contest. They get everything.
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check out this website:\nhttp://www.sparknotes.com/lit/grapesofwrath/\ngood luck!
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Here's a resource. Go check it out. For more, just type "T.S. Eliot 'the Wasteland', mythology" into your search engine and look it up, the old-fashioned way!\n\nDon't forget Five-paragraph construction, especially on a 12-page paper!
945563
The christmas eve of 1836 me and my maid. Phylosopic Delirium\n\nNumber 24 is fatal for me, if I needed to try it I would say that I was born on the 24th. Twelve times a year is day, although, im supersticious. cause a man´s heart needs to believe in somethingand he believes lies when there´s no truths to believe. Thats why, with out a doubt the lovers believe the married and the little towns to their idols, to their goverments and one of my supersticions is to believe that theres no a good day 24th. the day 23th is on my calendar a call to the pain and to the imitation of that rusian chief policeman who order to have ready the bombs before the fire happens, thats why i prevent myself since the 23 day, to the next day of pain and suffer and before twelve in the clock I don´t even take a glass with my hand so I don´t broke it, and I don´t point letter so i don´t lose it and i don´t try to make a women to fall in love with me cause i don´t want her to tell me yes, cause if we get to the point of talking of love i have another supersticion: i imagine that the worst misfortune that could happen to a men, is that a woman tell him that she loves him. if you don´t believe it, is a torment and if you believe it: ¡ lucky one the one whom the woman says that she doesnt want himm, cause at leas that one listen the truth!\n\nThe last 23 of the year 1836 just finish, with my pendulum showing and because of that on my supersticious principles, I was bended waiting for the rain and without sleep. I stay like that a lot of hours at night, longer for the lonely awake that a civil war; til´morning finally comes with steps of intervention, i mean, really slowly, to paint with purple and pink color the courtains of my stay.\n\nThe day before that one, was gorgeous, and i dont why my heart was telling that the day 24th it was going to be day of water. it was even worst, it was snowing. i look the thermometer and it marks a lot of under zero degrees; just like the State´s credit.\n\nI was so convince that i wasn´t going to move myself because i need to do it all the luck of the month, i bend my forhead, heave just like the sky with the cold clouds, and i stand my elbows on the table and i just standby that everyone could say i was a public writer in time of free expresion, or maybe a national military, staying ther by appointment waiting for an exercise. Now I was drifting my look all over the multitud of articules and papers that are there since six months ago without finish it just started over my desk, and just the titles are there, just like those vault on the cemetery that doesn´t wait for anything else than a corpse, exact comparation, cause in each article I buried all hope and ilusion. now i turn my eyes to the my balcony´s window, i saw them misted and just like if they were crying in the inside; the condensated vapor it was sliding like tears on the window; and just like that drop by drop tears fall down all over the heart. the ones who sees the windows from outside they saw it clean and shining; the one´s who sees just the faces, they see them happy and quiet.\n\nI will make a favor to my reader from the more of my meditation; there´s not enough newspapers in Madrid, in that case there not enough reader ethier. lucky one the one who have an office, lucky one the employee, that even with out a salary or with out collect it is just the same one. at least hes not forced to think, he can smoke and he can read the gazette.\n\n¡Four o´clock! ¡Lunch! - told me the voice from a maid, a quite and submissive voice, in the man that serves, even the voice sounds like wants to ask for permission.\n\nI TRY!!!\nHOPE IT WORKS!!
974415
Despite about 25 minutes of searching I haven't been able to find this poem.  Could you call or e-mail someone you know who has to do the same assignment and possibly get the poem that way?  \n\nThese sites may be of some help to you.  My only other advice would be to get to a bookstore in your area if there is one and you might find it there.  Best of luck with it.
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Looks good to me...  Try placing a comma in the sentence, \nIn 1814(,) when she was seventeen, she eloped ...\n\n\nOther than that little bit, and the occasional typo that spell check didn't catch (see, I noticed the difference!), it is well-written and organized.  Good theme, but I have a personal disagreement with you about how well you liked the book (it happens to be one of my top 10 favorites of all time... \n "The Modern Prometheus"  was the alternate title of the novel; you may want to mention that in the beginning of the report somewhere.
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I will not and cannot write the introductory paragraph for you, but I will tell you how to approach it. \n\nFrom all of the books you are referencing choose a character and a single common theme or event that relates to your life, your hopes/aspirations or your fears - pick an emotion. \n\nThen think through what that means to you.  Do not think about the assignment -  think realistically.  Compare the characters' experiences to yours.\n\nYou should be able to summarize what you intend to expand on for the main sections of the essay. \n\n Dividing each section into a single topic and ending with another summary of how you wish to use what you've learned from the the characters' lives.\n\nI hope this helps.
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First, let me suggest a great book called "Eats, Shoots, Leaves" by Lynn Truss. I think you would appreciate it.\n\nSecond, let me embarrass myself by tackling your sentence.\n\n(H)ey, what(')s or what is up with my gramm(a)r?\n\nThose were the obvious errors. Of course, I reserve the right to find more, but that is it for now.
134236
That poem rocks.  I know that it is controversial.  I would be interested to see what people thought of a choice line or two from the poem.
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Quotation\n***********\n"Look how we live, an’ wheer we live, an’ in what numbers, an’ by what chances, an’ wi’ what sameness; and look how the mills is awlus a-goin’, and how they never works us no nigher to onny distant object-‘ceptin awlus Death. Look how you considers of us, and writes of us, and talks of us, and goes up wi’ your deputations to Secretaries o’ State ‘bout us, and how yo are awlus right, and how we are awlus wrong, and never had’n no reason in us sin ever we were born. Look how this ha’ growen an’ growen sir, bigger an’ bigger, broader an’ broader, harder an’ harder, fro year to year, fro generation unto generation. Who can look on’t sir, and fairly tell a man ‘tis not a muddle?"\n********************************************************\nExplanation of quotation\n**************************\n\nStephen Blackpool’s speech to Bounderby, from Book the Second, Chapter 5, is one of the few glimpses that we receive into the lives of the Hands. His long sentences and repetition of words such as “an’” and “Look” mimic the monotony of the workers’ lives. Similarly, Stephen’s dialect illustrates his lack of education and contrasts with the proper English spoken by the middle-class characters and by the narrator. In spite of his lack of formal education, however, Stephen possesses greater insight about the relationship between employer and employee than does Bounderby. Stephen notes that “yo” (the factory owners and employers) and “us” (the Hands) are constantly opposed, but that the Hands stand no chance in the contest because the employers possess all the wealth and power. However, he does not blame the employers solely for the suffering of the poor, concluding instead that the situation is a “muddle” and that it is difficult to determine who is responsible for society’s ills. Stephen also suggests that the monotony of factory labor seems futile to the Hands, who need to strive for some larger goal in order to make the endless round of production seem worthwhile. The “distant object” or larger goal that he mentions here is later symbolized by the bright star on which he gazes while trapped at the bottom of the mine shaft.\n\n*********\n hey,pal you can find all details on  http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/hardtimes/