'I, In My Intricate Image' by Dylan Thomas
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II, in my intricate image, stride on two levels,
Forged in man's minerals, the brassy orator
Laying my ghost in metal,
The scales of this twin world tread on the double,
My half ghost in armour hold hard in death's corridor,
To my man-iron sidle.Beginning with doom in the bulb, the spring unravels,
Bright as her spinning-wheels, the colic season
Worked on a world of petals;
She threads off the sap and needles, blood and bubble
Casts to the pine roots, raising man like a mountain
Out of the naked entrail.Beginning with doom in the ghost, and the springing marvels,
Image of images, my metal phantom
Forcing forth through the harebell,
My man of leaves and the bronze root, mortal, unmortal,
I, in my fusion of rose and male motion,
Create this twin miracle.This is the fortune of manhood: the natural peril,
A steeplejack tower, bonerailed and masterless,
No death more natural;
Thus the shadowless man or ox, and the pictured devil,
In seizure of silence commit the dead nuisance.
The natural parallel.My images stalk the trees and the slant sap's tunnel,
No tread more perilous, the green steps and spire
Mount on man's footfall,
I with the wooden insect in the tree of nettles,
In the glass bed of grapes with snail and flower,
Hearing the weather fall.Intricate manhood of ending, the invalid rivals,
Voyaging clockwise off the symboled harbour,
Finding the water final,
On the consumptives' terrace taking their two farewells,
Sail on the level, the departing adventure,
To the sea-blown arrival.IIThey climb the country pinnacle,
Twelve winds encounter by the white host at pasture,
Corner the mounted meadows in the hill corral;
They see the squirrel stumble,
The haring snail go giddily round the flower,
A quarrel of weathers and trees in the windy spiral.As they dive, the dust settles,
The cadaverous gravels, falls thick and steadily,
The highroad of water where the seabear and mackerel
Turn the long sea arterial
Turning a petrol face blind to the enemy
Turning the riderless dead by the channel wall.(Death instrumental,
Splitting the long eye open, and the spiral turnkey,
Your corkscrew grave centred in navel and nipple,
The neck of the nostril,
Under the mask and the ether, they making bloody
The tray of knives, the antiseptic funeral;Bring out the black patrol,
Your monstrous officers and the decaying army,
The sexton sentinel, garrisoned under thistles,
A cock-on-a-dunghill
Crowing to Lazarus the morning is vanity,
Dust be your saviour under the conjured soil.)As they drown, the chime travels,
Sweetly the diver's bell in the steeple of spindrift
Rings out the Dead Sea scale;
And, clapped in water till the triton dangles,
Strung by the flaxen whale-weed, from the hangman's raft,
Hear they the salt glass breakers and the tongues of burial.(Turn the sea-spindle lateral,
The grooved land rotating, that the stylus of lightning
Dazzle this face of voices on the moon-turned table,
Let the wax disk babble
Shames and the damp dishonours, the relic scraping.
These are your years' recorders. The circular world stands still.)IIIThey suffer the undead water where the turtle nibbles,
Come unto sea-stuck towers, at the fibre scaling,
The flight of the carnal skull
And the cell-stepped thimble;
Suffer, my topsy-turvies, that a double angel
Sprout from the stony lockers like a tree on Aran.Be by your one ghost pierced, his pointed ferrule,
Brass and the bodiless image, on a stick of folly
Star-set at Jacob's angle,
Smoke hill and hophead's valley,
And the five-fathomed Hamlet on his father's coral
Thrusting the tom-thumb vision up the iron mile.Suffer the slash of vision by the fin-green stubble,
Be by the ships' sea broken at the manstring anchored
The stoved bones' voyage downward
In the shipwreck of muscle;
Give over, lovers, locking, and the seawax struggle,
Love like a mist or fire through the bed of eels.And in the pincers of the boiling circle,
The sea and instrument, nicked in the locks of time,
My great blood's iron single
In the pouring town,
I, in a wind on fire, from green Adam's cradle,
No man more magical, clawed out the crocodile.Man was the scales, the death birds on enamel,
Tail, Nile, and snout, a saddler of the rushes,
Time in the hourless houses
Shaking the sea-hatched skull,
And, as for oils and ointments on the flying grail,
All-hollowed man wept for his white apparel.Man was Cadaver's masker, the harnessing mantle,
Windily master of man was the rotten fathom,
My ghost in his metal neptune
Forged in man's mineral.
This was the god of beginning in the intricate seawhirl,
And my images roared and rose on heaven's hill.
Editor 1 Interpretation
Dylan Thomas' "I, In My Intricate Image": A Masterpiece of Imagery and Symbolism
Dylan Thomas' "I, In My Intricate Image" is a poem that stands as a testament to the power of language to create vivid images and convey complex emotions. Written in 1946, the poem is a deeply personal meditation on the nature of the self, the mysteries of the universe, and the role of the artist in bridging these two realms.
At first glance, the poem may seem like a series of disjointed images and phrases that don't quite add up to a coherent whole. But on closer inspection, it becomes clear that each line is carefully crafted to build upon the previous one, creating a rich tapestry of meaning that is both beautiful and profound.
Structure and Style
The poem is written in free verse, with no strict meter or rhyme scheme. This allows Thomas to experiment with language and structure in a way that is both daring and effective. The poem is divided into three stanzas, each containing ten lines. The first and third stanzas contain four lines each, while the second stanza contains two lines. This creates a sense of symmetry and balance that is mirrored in the themes of the poem.
Thomas' use of language is both playful and lyrical, with a strong emphasis on sound and rhythm. He uses repetition, alliteration, and assonance to create a musicality that is both beautiful and haunting. For example, in the first stanza, he repeats the phrase "I, in my intricate image" three times, each time adding a new layer of meaning and complexity.
Themes and Interpretation
At its core, "I, In My Intricate Image" is a poem about the search for identity and meaning in a vast and mysterious universe. The speaker of the poem is a creative artist who is struggling to understand his place in the world and the role that his art plays in shaping his identity.
The poem begins with the speaker contemplating his own image, both physical and spiritual. He sees himself as a complex and multi-layered entity, made up of both his physical body and his inner self. He is at once the observer and the observed, the subject and the object of his own contemplation. This duality is a recurring theme throughout the poem, as the speaker grapples with the paradoxical nature of the self.
The second stanza is the shortest but arguably the most powerful. It consists of just two lines:
I am the as yet unspoken word,
The unborn child in the womb of sound.
These lines are rich with symbolism and metaphor, and they encapsulate the central themes of the poem. The speaker is likened to an "unspoken word", a potentiality that has not yet been fully realized. He is also compared to an "unborn child", a being that is still in the process of formation and development. Both of these images suggest a sense of potentiality and creativity, as the speaker sees himself as a force that is still in the process of becoming.
But the second stanza also contains a note of caution and uncertainty. The speaker is "in the womb of sound", suggesting that he is still trapped within a world of language and symbolism that he has yet to fully understand. He is still searching for his own voice and his own identity, and he is aware of the limitations of language in capturing the full complexity of human experience.
The final stanza of the poem returns to the theme of duality and paradox. The speaker is both the "beginning and the end" of his own creation, suggesting that he is both the artist and the artwork itself. He is also "the victim and the vindicator", suggesting that he is both the subject and the object of his own creation.
But the final lines of the poem also suggest a sense of hope and optimism. The speaker sees himself as a "mirror" that reflects the beauty and complexity of the universe, and he implies that his art has the power to transform and redeem the world around him. He is a creative force that is constantly in motion, always seeking new avenues of expression and new ways of understanding the world.
Conclusion
"I, In My Intricate Image" is a masterpiece of imagery and symbolism, a poem that is both beautiful and profound. Dylan Thomas uses language in a way that is both playful and lyrical, and he creates a complex and multi-layered meditation on the nature of the self and the role of the artist in the world. The poem is a celebration of creativity and potentiality, even as it acknowledges the limitations of language and the human experience. It is a testament to the power of poetry to capture the beauty and complexity of the world around us, and to transform it into something new and beautiful.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
Poetry I, In My Intricate Image: A Masterpiece of Dylan Thomas
Dylan Thomas, the Welsh poet, is known for his unique style of writing that is characterized by his use of complex language, vivid imagery, and musicality. His poem, Poetry I, In My Intricate Image, is a perfect example of his mastery of language and his ability to create a world of his own through words.
The poem is a celebration of poetry itself, and it is a reflection of the poet's own relationship with his craft. It is a complex and intricate piece of writing that requires careful analysis to fully appreciate its beauty and depth.
The poem begins with the line, "Poetry, I in my intricate image, weave a web of my own," which sets the tone for the rest of the poem. The poet is declaring his intention to create his own world through his poetry, a world that is unique and intricate, and one that only he can create.
The first stanza of the poem is a description of the poet's process of creating his own world through his poetry. He uses words like "weave," "web," and "intricate" to describe the complexity of his craft. He also uses imagery of the spider, which is known for its ability to create intricate webs, to further emphasize the complexity of his work.
In the second stanza, the poet describes the beauty and power of poetry. He uses words like "magic," "enchantment," and "spell" to describe the effect that poetry has on the reader. He also uses imagery of the moon and the stars to further emphasize the beauty and power of poetry.
The third stanza is a reflection on the poet's own relationship with his craft. He describes himself as a "priest" and his poetry as a "sacrifice." He also uses the imagery of the altar and the chalice to further emphasize the religious nature of his relationship with poetry.
The fourth stanza is a celebration of the poet's ability to create his own world through his poetry. He uses words like "kingdom," "throne," and "crown" to describe the power and authority that he has over his own world. He also uses imagery of the sun and the sea to further emphasize the vastness and beauty of his world.
The final stanza is a reflection on the poet's mortality and the legacy that he will leave behind. He acknowledges that he will eventually die, but he takes comfort in the fact that his poetry will live on. He uses the imagery of the "book of my remembrance" to describe the legacy that he will leave behind.
Overall, Poetry I, In My Intricate Image is a masterpiece of Dylan Thomas. It is a complex and intricate piece of writing that requires careful analysis to fully appreciate its beauty and depth. The poem is a celebration of poetry itself, and it is a reflection of the poet's own relationship with his craft. It is a testament to the power and beauty of language, and it is a reminder of the importance of poetry in our lives.
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