READ E-PUB ⚓ All You Who Sleep Tonight: Poems ⚖

I have always loved poems, appreciating the lyrical storytelling My love was reignited recently after reading Vikran Seth s The Beastly Tales...Mr Seth has a way with prose and lyrical verses which I really enjoy reading The poems in first and the last chapter are the ones which really struck a chord with me and I read them again and again They transported me back to my past in some ways.All in all, a nice collection of poems to read. Can t fault a student of rhyme and meter for employing the tools, but I feel here they are inartfully aggressively applied Some gorgeous moments in these poems The beauty though is offset by vagueness and a distance from what is examined. READ E-PUB ♨ All You Who Sleep Tonight: Poems ♳ Certainly Not Since Byron Has Anyone Been Elegantly And Literally Amusing In Verse Philadelphia DailyNewsVikram Seth S Novel In Verse, The Golden Gate, Was Hailed By Gore Vidal As The Great California Novel And By The New Republic As A Tour De Force Of The Transcendence Of The Mere Tour De Force Now He Brings His Romance With The English Language, His Effortless Access To The Deepest Reservoirs Of Feeling, And His Ability To Light Up The Plain Surfaces Of Everyday Life To This Stunning Collection Of PoemsIn All You Who Sleep Tonight Seth Delves Into The Varieties Of Love Love Lost, Remembered, And Deferred He Evokes The Unspeakable Ironies Of Auschwitz And The Light Blasted Streets Of Hiroshima He Conducts The Reader Through Lion Grove In Suzhou, China, And Across The Golden Gate Bridge On Its Fiftieth Anniversary Throughout, He Displays The Lyricism And Attentiveness That Distinguish The Best Poets Of Every Era Clear As A Glacial Pool, Often As Deep, Vikram Seth S New Poems Shine With Unfashionable Virtues Seth Gives Joy By Writing Brilliantly Well, Unafraid To Feel And To Start Us Feeling X J Kennedy Possibly my favorite book of poetry Simply written, but perfectly beautiful And funny without being tongue in cheek The author doesn t take himself too seriously. Dreadful The good ones can t cancel out certain odious rhymes. PRANDIAL PLAINT My love, I love your breasts I love your nose.I love your accent and I love your toes.I am your slave One word, and I obey.But please don t slurp your coffee in that way VOICES Voices in my head,Chanting, Kisses Bread.Prove yourself Fight Shove.Learn Earn Look for love Drown a lesser voice.Silent now of choice Breathe in peace and beStill, for once, like me The two I liked best. All you who sleep tonight Far from the ones you love, No hand to left or right, And emptiness above Know that you aren t alone The whole world shares your tears, Some for two nights or one, And some for all their years.This book evokes some very strong emotions Three poems were particularly haunting to me Lithuania Question and Answer , Work and freedom which both talk about the atrocities inflicted by the Nazis from different perspectives a Jewish woman and a commandant respectively The third poem that was pretty hard hitting was A Doctor s Journal Entry for August 6, 1945,, which is about the effect of the atom bomb that hit Hiroshima. Comically, I started All You Who Sleep Tonight during a bout of insomnia the other night This was a recommendation from my sister, who found the title poem a source of solace upon the death of her cat and later ex Reading poetry for the first time in ages, I was forced to slow down and reread a lot, but Seth s poems in this collection are eclectic some simple Night Watch, about insomnia , others difficult Ghalib , a few light hearted Round and Round , and many grim Soon, Passage, Poet One of my favorites, Southward Bound, mixed geography, time, and climate, all in a quatrain, to describe the views on a train ride in China. After a long and wretched flightThat stretched from daylight into night,Where babies wept and tempers shatteredAnd the plane lurched and whiskey splatteredOver my plastic food, I cameTo claim my bags from Baggage ClaimAround, the carousel went aroundThe anxious travelers sought and foundTheir bags, intact or gently battered,But to my foolish eyes what matteredWas a brave suitcase, red and small,That circled round, not mine at all.I knew that bag It must be hers.We hadnt met in seven years And as the metal plates squealed and clatteredMy happy memories chimed and chattered.An old man pulled it of the Claim.My bags appeared I did the same The only poem I remember from the book It was the first one, and had me hooked. ProtocolsWhat can I say to you How can I now retractAll that that fool, my voice, has spoken Now that the facts are plain, the placid surface cracked,The protocols of friendship broken I cannot walk by day as now I walk at dawnPast the still house where you lie sleeping.May the sun burn away these footprints on the lawnAnd hold you in its warmth and keeping.