Time
There’s a certain untapped majesty
To this great urban sprawl.
Hanging steel beams from the sky
Seems not much work at all.
Sunlight gleams off interstate
Upon each rusted rose.
But all this praise has come too late
As my unfinished prose.
To this great urban sprawl.
Hanging steel beams from the sky
Seems not much work at all.
Sunlight gleams off interstate
Upon each rusted rose.
But all this praise has come too late
As my unfinished prose.
An age before in times long past,
When logic science was
The first to be considered last
And there truly was no cause,
When the gods still walked the earth
And beauty filled the air,
When humanity still had worth
And love lived without a care
When logic science was
The first to be considered last
And there truly was no cause,
When the gods still walked the earth
And beauty filled the air,
When humanity still had worth
And love lived without a care
Life first began in Eden
(Or so by the church we’re told),
But quickly spread to even
Land still yet unsold.
Purple mountain’s majesty
And amber waves of grain,
Land that’s kept so chastely
Might never be found again.
(Or so by the church we’re told),
But quickly spread to even
Land still yet unsold.
Purple mountain’s majesty
And amber waves of grain,
Land that’s kept so chastely
Might never be found again.
While war raged across Europe
(Or maybe science, religion, art),
Across the sea was caught up
In the silence of their heart.
We missed out on some eras
On Enlightenment, Romance;
We largely forget what once was
With our Industrial stance.
(Or maybe science, religion, art),
Across the sea was caught up
In the silence of their heart.
We missed out on some eras
On Enlightenment, Romance;
We largely forget what once was
With our Industrial stance.
But in this land we’re free,
And we can think as well.
Just because we’re young, you see,
Doesn’t mean that time won’t tell.
Our history yields greats,
Immortalized and loved.
Who cares about the dates?
It’s this country I’m proud of.
And we can think as well.
Just because we’re young, you see,
Doesn’t mean that time won’t tell.
Our history yields greats,
Immortalized and loved.
Who cares about the dates?
It’s this country I’m proud of.
This poem is an imitation of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s writing
style. Its subject matter is based in part off of “Ozymandias” and how time can
wash away things that once seemed mighty or great. After learning about solely
American history for most of my educational life, learning about things like
the Renaissance, the Age of Enlightenment, and the Romantic Movement as they
occurred in Europe kind of makes me feel left out. I know we didn’t totally lack
all of these things (I know we had a
Romantic Movement too and that our entire system of government is derived from
the Age of Enlightenment), but America is so young in comparison to the
European countries, that it feels like we ‘missed out’ on a lot more. The era
that I really consider ‘ours’ is the Industrial Revolution, which changed
everything about America. Everywhere we go now is pretty much an urban sprawl;
I’ve never been to somewhere where you couldn’t hear car horns beeping. I
consider this a direct result of Americans’ zeal for industry. I decided
focusing on this aspect of America could work in the poem. In it, the narrator
mourns the loss of nature in favor of urbanity and tries to reconcile it with
the odd beauty of what the country has become. However, it also considers what
we as a country have missed, due to our isolation from the rest of the
continents. “Ozymandias” influenced its writing because of the ‘ababcdcd…’
rhyme scheme as well as its consideration of how time changes.
Link: Okay, so I've spent forty-five minutes trying to format and embed the Soundcloud thing, and it isn't working so before I completely lose my mind, I'll just post the link instead and hope it works.
Excellent imitation of Shelley's "Ozymandias." A line I particularly enjoyed:
ReplyDelete"Sunlight gleams off interstate / Upon each rusted rose."
Good analysis as well of how your poem conforms to the conventions of the Romantic era. I liked how your poem wasn't simply a jeremiad against urban sprawl, but attempted to reconcile our industrial ways with natural beauty. Good job.