Tuesday, November 24, 2009

I would never be the wife of a poet. This is what Matthew Arnold chooses to write on his honeymoon at Dover Beach.

Honeymoon at a beach. Sand grains glistening on wet skin. Bright sails fluttering in the breeze. What a radiant picture of classic romance. Right? Jaast you take a look.

...the waves...
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,

That's like saying- 'let's love each other, because hey, love doesn't exist. So let's try honey, shall we?' No wonder he didn't publish this poem until Much Later.

Then there's Coleridge. I've heard this version of his life where he married his wife just because she was pregnant.

Then he had to go and fall in love with another woman who-

a)Was Wordsworth's sister. (This just confirms my belief that W.W was at the root of all mischief. Such unperturbed self-satisfaction had to rise out of pure evil. His heart may have danced with the daffodils, but one can only wonder what else he danced with.)

b)Had the same name as his wife- Sarah!

Oh Wily Wordsworth-
What is this, some form of higher poetry?
Life imitating art maybe?
A joke for you to share
As you sit on your wooden chair*
Lay out your porcelain with flair
And sip on organic tea?

*Note: (Yes wooden. Cut off a blessed tree.)

To make matters worse, Sarah Coleridge had to go spill boiling milk on her husband's foot. Boiling milk. How bland. Some opium concoction or even hot chocolate would have been more glamorous.

And then STC goes and writes a l.o.n.g. poem about his experience, where his calls his friend Charles 'gentle-hearted' no less than thrice. But not Once does he mention his wife. Not in accusation of her klutzy behaviour. And definitely not in thankfulness for the spiritual revelation that he had, once he was done crying over the Spilt Milk.

No, poets do not make good husbands.

20 beep/s:

Tongue Trip said...

haha are you kidding me...a big time Coleridge aficionado, some `spiritual' revelation this! laughed and smiled, very much amused. :) cheers! tata

soin said...

some part dint make sense..anyways if you have a poet for a husband you can fuck someone else and call it poetic justice...maybe not..free

Diwakar Sinha said...

point taken...
and disagreed ;)

The Girl With The Broken Smile said...

Very witty..totally agree with u on the fact that wordsworth's self-satisfaction has its roots in pure evil!

But 1 question 4 u darling...u've established that poets don't make good husbands but what about musicians??(pun fully intended)

Arse Poetica. said...

This is an end semester post! It means you're studying. I too have to study Victorian paykhana.But this is making me feel happy. :)

Arse Poetica. said...

Your post is making me happy, NOT the Victorian paykhana.You're going to be an astute critic.

Deeptesh said...

Ah!Trust me poets r such mischievous creatures.Tagore with his looks which may be n epitome of devotion is an altogether different being once u read between the lines.

Poets don't make good husbands.....may be it's true....but wait, Anushka u r giving me goosebumps.U know why!

Sugar Magnolia said...

I loved Dover Beach despite all the allegations of tight-assed-ness and worse :'(

Maybe it's just hard for him to be mushy, y'know? Isn't that kinda cute? KINDA?

Sugar Magnolia said...

Also, agree with Arse Poetica :)

Anushka said...

@Tongue Trip- Thanks :) I'll drop by your blog.

@Sreejata- Hehehe. Actually, they generally don't but they've been reported to make very good lovers. 'Reported.' :P

@Arse Poetica- *grin*

@Deeptesh- Why? Because You're a poet? Or because you think I'm studying more than you?

@Deboleena- I like both Arnold And Coleridge :)(Not 'This Lime-Tree Bower...' though)

Riddhi G.D said...

This Lime Tree Bower. I remember that one, might be a pretty poem, but class e puro snooze-fest chilo! Back in ye good olde days :)
And I think your prime example of poets not making good husbands would be your beloved Hughes na? I notice you don't mention him *wicked grin*

Anushka said...

But. But. But.
He wrote such hot poems for her.

Ok, fiiiine. I agree. But I wasn't talking about the Moderns anyway :P

rapunzel. said...

haha briliant post!

Roshni said...

I was torn between actually laughing out loud and going,'E baba!I didn't know that' while reading this post.
Whattatreasure,Anushka.I love this,did you know?I'll keep coming back to this,especially when I'm in need of a laugh.

Prince of Mirkwood said...

So..how many poems does one need to have published to be called a poet?...I've always wondered..

Tangled up in blue... said...

I wholeheartedly agree with that first line..

If you like the poet, buy the book, DO NOT fall in love with him. :)

I love the blog..I follow now.. :)

and yes, W.W. was at the root of a lot of mischief! how can I say this with such certainty? its his poetry..someone who's that pious in writing must be absolutely debauched in real life.. :D

and I think people with colourful lives are the ones who write all the amazing poetry..

so one must always, only, buy the book. :D

Sherry Wasandi said...

Haha! Love this!

Excuse me while I re-read and re-laugh.

And for the record, boiling milk? Really? Pooh.
A poet deserves more pain. At least there just might be art made out of a blistered little toe.

Anushka said...

@Choi, Upasana and Sherry- *elated smile*

@Tangled up in Blue- I follow now too =D You, that is.

joey said...

Really?I always thought that Ogden Nash would make the best husband ever...

Anushka said...

@Joey- True! Well, this wasn't meant to be taken TOO seriously :P Actually writers of comic verse are a different species altogether.