1. Love Poems about Love Poetry
Engl1001/UNBSJ/ /Dr. M. Jones

2. Today William Shakespeare, Sonnet 130, p493 Scansion Interpretation
Eavan Boland,“Against Love Poetry,”p736
bpNichol,“[dear Captain Poetry],” p738

3. analysis of verse into metrical patterns
SCANSION “
analysis of verse into metrical patterns ”

4. William Shakespeare
The Cobbe portrait (1610), The Chandos portrait (early 1600s) and the Droeshout portrait (1622)

5. My mistress’eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red, than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head;
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

6. My mistress’eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red, than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head;
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare. a b c d e f g

7. My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red, than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head;
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare. a b c d e f g

8. My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red, than her lips’ red;

9. ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ′ ˘ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′
˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′
My mist / ress’ eyes / are no / thing like / the sun;
′ ˘ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′
Coral / is far / more red, / than her / lips’ red;

10. Eavan Boland b. 1944 in Dublin lived in London, NYC, Killiney
Trinity College Dublin
Professor at Stanford U
prolific author of poems and literary criticism

11. — Eavan Boland to Alice Quinn, the New Yorker online
Against Love Poetry
pub. 2001 “
So much of European love poetry is court poetry, coming out of the glamorous traditions of the court…There’s little about the ordinariness of love.
— Eavan Boland to Alice Quinn, the New Yorker online ”

12. We were married in summer, thirty years ago. I have loved you
AGAINST LOVE POETRY
We were married in summer, thirty years ago. I have loved you
deeply from that moment to this. I have loved other things as well.
Among them the idea of women's freedom. Why do I put these
words side by side? Because I am a woman. Because marriage is not
freedom. Therefore, every word here is written against love poetry.
Love poetry can do no justice to this. Here, instead, is a remembered
story from a faraway history: A great king lost a war and was paraded in chains through the city of his enemy. They taunted him. They brought his wife and children to him—he showed no emotion. They brought his former courtiers—he showed no emotion. They brought his old servant—only then did he break down and weep. I did not find my womanhood in the servitudes of custom. But I saw my humanity look back at me there. It is to mark the contradictions of a daily love that I have written this. Against love poetry.

13. bpnichol
1944 — 1988
b. Vancouver
known best for concrete poetry: “poetry in which the meaning or effect is conveyed partly or wholly by visual means, using patterns of words or letters and other typographical devices.”
collaborative work

14. Captain Poetry
originally published in via mimeograph

15. 'dear Captain Poetry'
dear Captain Poetry,
your poetry is trite.
you cannot write a sonnet
tho you've tried to every night
since i've known you.
we're thru!!
Madame X
dear Madame X
Look how the sun leaps now upon our faces
Stomps & boots our eyes into our skulls
Drives all thot to weird & foreign places
Till the world reels & the kicked mind dulls,
Drags our hands up across our eyes
Sends all white hurling into black
Makes the inner cranium our skies
And turns all looks sent forward burning back.
And you, my lady, who should be gentler, kind,
Have yet the fiery aspect of the sun
Sending words to burn into my mind
Destroying all my feelings one by one;
You who should have tiptoed thru my halls
Have slammed my doors & smashed me into wall
love
Cap Poetry

16. Look how the sun leaps now upon our faces
Stomps & boots our eyes into our skulls
Drives all thot to weird & foreign places
Till the world reels & the kicked mind dulls,
Drags our hands up across our eyes
Sends all white hurling into black
Makes the inner cranium our skies
And turns all looks sent forward burning back.
And you, my lady, who should be gentler, kind,
Have yet the fiery aspect of the sun
Sending words to burn into my mind
Destroying all my feelings one by one;
You who should have tiptoed thru my halls
Have slammed my doors & smashed me into wall

17. Look how the sun leaps now upon our faces
Stomps & boots our eyes into our skulls
Drives all thot to weird & foreign places
Till the world reels & the kicked mind dulls,
Drags our hands up across our eyes
Sends all white hurling into black
Makes the inner cranium our skies
And turns all looks sent forward burning back.
And you, my lady, who should be gentler, kind,
Have yet the fiery aspect of the sun
Sending words to burn into my mind
Destroying all my feelings one by one;
You who should have tiptoed thru my halls
Have slammed my doors & smashed me into wall a b c d e f g

18. Look how the sun leaps now upon our faces
Stomps & boots our eyes into our skulls
Drives all thot to weird & foreign places
Till the world reels & the kicked mind dulls,
Drags our hands up across our eyes
Sends all white hurling into black
Makes the inner cranium our skies
And turns all looks sent forward burning back.
And you, my lady, who should be gentler, kind,
Have yet the fiery aspect of the sun
Sending words to burn into my mind
Destroying all my feelings one by one;
You who should have tiptoed thru my halls
Have slammed my doors & smashed me into wall a b c d e f g

19. Look how the sun leaps now upon our faces
Stomps & boots our eyes into our skulls

20. ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′
˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘
Look how / the sun / leaps now / upon / our faces
′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′ ˘ ′
Stomps & / boots our / eyes in / to our / skulls

21. 'dear Captain Poetry'
dear Captain Poetry,
your poetry is trite.
you cannot write a sonnet
tho you've tried to every night
since i've known you.
we're thru!!
Madame X
dear Madame X
Look how the sun leaps now upon our faces
Stomps & boots our eyes into our skulls
Drives all thot to weird & foreign places
Till the world reels & the kicked mind dulls,
Drags our hands up across our eyes
Sends all white hurling into black
Makes the inner cranium our skies
And turns all looks sent forward burning back.
And you, my lady, who should be gentler, kind,
Have yet the fiery aspect of the sun
Sending words to burn into my mind
Destroying all my feelings one by one;
You who should have tiptoed thru my halls
Have slammed my doors & smashed me into wall
love
Cap Poetry