The Diary Of A Nobody – Détails, épisodes et analyse

Charles Bukowski - Bluebird

Written:

Bluebird was written in the 1990s, published as part of Bukowski’s 1992 poetry collection The Last Night of the Earth Poems. This was one of the last collections Bukowski released before his death in 1994. The poem reflects a more contemplative side of Bukowski’s work as he faced the later years of his life, exploring themes of mortality, introspection, and the complexities of human emotion.

Theme: 

The theme of Bluebird by Charles Bukowski revolves around vulnerability, emotional suppression, and the conflict between one’s inner self and societal expectations. The "bluebird" in the poem symbolizes Bukowski’s softer, more sensitive side, which he keeps hidden from the world. Bukowski was known for his gritty, tough persona and raw, unapologetic writing style, often portraying himself as a hardened, cynical character. However, in Bluebird, he reveals a gentler, more introspective side, suggesting that beneath his rugged exterior lies a desire for love, acceptance, and tenderness. The poem captures the struggle to maintain this vulnerable self in a world that often demands strength and resilience, highlighting the human tendency to guard one's emotions and present a fortified facade.

Poem:

there’s a bluebird in my heart thatwants to get outbut I’m too tough for him,I say, stay in there, I’m not goingto let anybody seeyou.there’s a bluebird in my heart thatwants to get outbut I pour whiskey on him and inhalecigarette smokeand the whores and the bartendersand the grocery clerksnever know thathe’sin there.

there’s a bluebird in my heart thatwants to get outbut I’m too tough for him,I say,stay down, do you want to messme up?you want to screw up theworks?you want to blow my book sales inEurope?there’s a bluebird in my heart thatwants to get outbut I’m too clever, I only let him outat night sometimeswhen everybody’s asleep.I say, I know that you’re there,so don’t besad.then I put him back,but he’s singing a littlein there, I haven’t quite let himdieand we sleep together likethatwith oursecret pactand it’s nice enough tomake a manweep, but I don’tweep, doyou?

Credits: poem by Charles Bukowski, 1990. / many thanks for the music and its creator, Chillpac / @chillpac_.

Artist links:

https://www.instagram.com/chillpac_/

https://open.spotify.com/artist/3k8dN7ttBtz3ce20RS6BQl?si=Grhd8zqsRYO9pV0NNt4y0g

The theme of "Love After Love" by Derek Walcott is self-rediscovery and self-love after a period of loss or heartbreak. The poem is a gentle and reassuring meditation on the importance of reconnecting with oneself, emphasizing the need for self-acceptance and the idea that true love for oneself can be found within.

Walcott writes about a future moment when you will meet "yourself arriving at your own door," symbolizing a reunion with the parts of yourself that may have been neglected or forgotten. The poem encourages readers to "feast on your life"—to cherish their own experiences, memories, and identities rather than seeking fulfillment solely from external relationships.

Ultimately, "Love After Love" speaks to the healing process of learning to love oneself again after facing the pain of separation or emotional hardship. It beautifully conveys the idea that wholeness and peace come from within.

Anonymous St Swithun's Parishioner - The Messiah

Source: It was published in a parish newsletter of St Swithun's church. 

Story:

Most of us are familiar with the words and music of the great Oratorio but Bill Jones of Golcar, a little village in the West Riding of Yorkshire, had never been to a performance and he tried to persuade a friend to go with him to the Huddersfield Town Hall to hear the famous Choral Society, but his friend refused. “Nay” he said “that sort ‘o music’s nowt in my line.  I like a good comic song or a lively jig, but I reckon nowt to this sacred stuff as they call it.  It’s beyond me. An’ another thing – there’1l be none of our sort there. It’1l be mostly religious folk and swells done up in boiled shirts and wimmen wi’ nowt much on.  Nay, you go by theesen and then you can tell me all about it sometime”.

So Bill went by himself.

The next time the old pals met, the fo1lowing conversation took place.  “Well cum on, how did you get on at Messiah? 

“Ee well” said Bill – “It were fair champion. I would’na missed it for al’t tea in China.  When I got there, Town Hall were crowded, it was chock full and I had a job to get a seat, and no wonder, it were all them singers – they took up half the gallery.  There were a chap larkin’ about on the organ.  He weren’t playing anythin’ in particular, just runnin’ his ‘ands up and down as if he was practising.  Well after a while a lot of chaps came in carrying fiddles.  Then…….they brought in the Messiah!

Wel1 – that’s what I took it to be.  It were’t biggest instrument on the platform and it were covered in a big green bag.  Any road, they took bag off it and then a bloke rubbed its belly wi’ a stick and you should have heard it groan. It were summat like the last expiring moments of a dying cow.  I were just thinking of going when a little chap came on, all dolled up in a white waistcoat and wi’ a flower in his buttonhole and everything went dead quiet.  You could have heard a pin drop.  He ‘ad a stick in his ‘and and he started waving it about and all the singers stared at him.  I reckon they was wondering what were the matter we ‘im.

Then they started to sing and they hadn’t been going long before they were fighting like cats.  I reckon he should have walloped one or two of them with that  stick.  First one side said they were King o’ Glory, then the t’other side said they were, and they went at it hammer and tongs.  But it fizzled out, so I’ve no idea which side won.  Then there was a bit of bother about some sheep that was lost. I don’t know who they belonged to but one lot of singers must have been very fond of mutton ‘cos they kept on singing  “All we like sheep “.  I couldn’t help saying to the chap sitting next to me that sheep’s alright in moderation but I like a bit of beef meself and he looked daggers at me and said “Shush!!” – so I shushed.

Then a bloke stood up and sang by hisself.  They must have been his sheep ‘cos he said every mountain and hill should be made low and I thought they’d be sure to find them.  Then the organist started banging, and the rest of the band was just as mad, ‘cos the way they were sawing them fiddles I thought they were going to go through ’em.  I bet everyone was glad when that chap sat down.

A lot of wimmen stood up after that and all of ’em looked as is they were well – getting on a bit.  Some of ’em must a bin 65 if they were a day.  They sang, “Unto us a child is born” and the chaps shouted back “Wonderful”, and I thought “Wonderful? It’s a blummin miracle”.  After that they sobered down a

Lord Byron - Childe Harold's Pilgrimage [There is a pleasure in the pathless woods]

Written/Published: 3rd March 1812

Theme:

In these lines of ‘Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage,’ the poet engages with themes of change, the sea, and power. The latter is used to reference the power of the sea as well as humankind’s lack of power in the face of the indomitable ocean. It has raged the same since the dawn of creation, and no human force can control or tame it. This is something that brings the speaker great joy rather than fear. He relishes in the idea of what the ocean harbours and its ability to refuse humankind that which it desires. The sea represents true freedom to the speaker and to Byron. It’s untamed, pathless, and unpredictable, like the woods in which no one has ever tread. By the end of the poem, Byron admits that things have changed. He and his speaker are not the same as they were at the beginning of the poem, at the beginning of Byron’s journeys, or at the beginning of life. It’s time to move on, he says.(PoemAnalysis, 2022)

Poem:

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,   There is a rapture on the lonely shore,   There is society where none intrudes,   By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:   I love not Man the less, but Nature more,   From these our interviews, in which I steal   From all I may be, or have been before,   To mingle with the Universe, and feelWhat I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

   Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!   Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;   Man marks the earth with ruin--his control   Stops with the shore;--upon the watery plain   The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain   A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,   When for a moment, like a drop of rain,   He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.

   His steps are not upon thy paths,--thy fields   Are not a spoil for him,--thou dost arise   And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields   For earth's destruction thou dost all despise,   Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies,   And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray   And howling, to his gods, where haply lies   His petty hope in some near port or bay,And dashest him again to earth: —there let him lay.

Credits: George Gordon Byron - Lord Byron (1812), PoemAnalysis (2022), Poets.org (2022)

Mark Strand - Lines For Winter

Written/Published: 1979, Selected Poems

Theme: "The echo of “as it gets cold” implies the language could be seen as appealing to readers for separate stages of understanding, not just the physical “cold” of winter, but also the coldness that comes with loss of emotion and possibly death, or at least accompanying the sober recognition of one’s own mortality. Surely, images of winter or night frequently signal acknowledgement of one’s mortality and the “gray” in line two hints at a common sign of ageing. Even the poem’s title, “Lines of Winter,” may be seen as reference to later life’s facial lines, those wrinkles gained through age and experience, particularly for anyone who has endured a history of painful events." (Edward Byrne, 2008)

Poem:

Edgar Allan Poe - The City in the Sea

Published: 1831

Theme: 

The poem takes the reader through Death’s city. He rules this place from a throne and towers over it “gigantically”. The city is lit by nothing but the light from the sea. By following its progression a reader can see the towers, palaces, friezes, and spires that fill the city-scape. Towards the end of the poem, a change comes over the usually very still ocean. It starts to move, as does the city itself. The city sinks, slowly, down into the water, consumed by its shiny surface. This dark place is compared to a more terrible version of hell in the last lines. A place that hell would worship. (PoemAnalysis.com (2022)

Poem:

Lo! Death has reared himself a throne In a strange city lying alone Far down within the dim West, Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best Have gone to their eternal rest. There shrines and palaces and towers (Time-eaten towers that tremble not!) Resemble nothing that is ours. Around, by lifting winds forgot, Resignedly beneath the sky The melancholy waters lie. No rays from the holy heaven come down On the long night-time of that town; But light from out the lurid sea Streams up the turrets silently- Gleams up the pinnacles far and free- Up domes- up spires- up kingly halls- Up fanes- up Babylon-like walls- Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers- Up many and many a marvellous shrine Whose wreathed PoemAnalysis.com (2022)

Lord Byron - All Is Vanity, Saith the Preacher

Written/Published in: Hebrew Melodies nr. 21 1815

Theme: Lord Byron’s poem is inspired by the Book of Qohelet. He transfers Qohelet’s feeling of life into a psalm, thereby condensing the Biblical material in his own way. He makes Qohelet, whom he conventionally identifies with King Solomon, look back at the happy times in his life. He interprets the Preacher’s resignation and depression by introducing the serpent from Genesis 3; this aspect helps to generalize Qohelet‘s pessimistic outlook on human life. Zsengellér, J. 2022. Understanding Texts in Early Judaism: Studies on Biblical, Qumranic, Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature in Memory of Géza Xeravits. Berlin, Boston: De Gruyter. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110768534

Poem:

I.Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine,And health and youth possess'd me;My goblets blush'd from every vine,And lovely forms caress'd me;I sunn'd my heart in beauty's eyes,And felt my soul grow tender:All earth can give, or mortal prize,Was mine of regal splendour.II.I strive to number o'er what daysRemembrance can discover,Which all that life or earth displaysWould lure me to live over.There rose no day, there roll'd no hourOf pleasure unembitter'd;And not a trapping deck'd my powerThat gall'd not while it glitter'd.III.The serpent of the field, by artAnd spells, is won from harming;But that which coils around the heart,Oh! who hath pwer of charming?It will not list to wisdom's lore,Nor music's voice can lure it;But there it stings for evermoreThe soul that must endure it.

Credits: Lord Byron 1815, József Zsengellér 2022

Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken

Published: 1915

Theme: 

"Robert Frost’s poem “The Road Not Taken” is often interpreted as an anthem of individualism and nonconformity, seemingly encouraging readers to take the road less traveled. This interpretation has long been propagated through countless song lyrics, newspaper columns, and graduation speeches. But as Frost liked to warn his listeners, “You have to be careful of that one; it’s a tricky poem—very tricky.” In actuality, the two roads diverging in a yellow wood are “really about the same,” according to Frost, and are equally traveled and quite interchangeable." (theatlantic.com, 2018)

Poem:

Don McLean - Crossroads (Song) 

Written/Released: 1971

Album: American Pie

Theme & Story: "I think this line is the essence of the pop ballad; the sense of regret, the wish to turn back time, the fear of the road lying ahead. Textually, the song is about a man who returns to a long lost love and begs for salvation. But that’s far too linear interpretation. I read the entire second verse in a far more spiritual way. Hope and salvation lie with anything that will join you on the inevitable journey of life. But it doesn’t necessarily have to be a person – it can be an idea, a thought, an emotion and even an absence. Sometimes absences are stronger than presences. “But there’s no need for turning back, ’cause all the roads lead to where I stand.”" (inartematt.com,2019) 

Lyrics:

I've got nothing on my mind,Nothing to remember,Nothing to forget.And I've got nothing to regret.But I'm all tied up on the inside,No one knows quite what I've got,And I know that on the outsideWhat I used to beI'm notanymore.You know I've heard about people like meBut I never made the connection.They walk one road to set them freeAnd find they've gone the wrong direction.But there's no need for turning backCause all roads lead to where I stand;And I believe I'll walk them allNo matter what I may have planned.Can you remember who I was?Can you still feel it?Can you find my pain?Can you heal it?Then lay your hands upon me nowAnd cast this darkness from my soul.You alone can light my way.You alone can make me wholeOnce again.We've walked both sides of every streetThrough all kinds of windy weather;But that was never our defeatAs long as we could walk together.So there's no need for turning backCause all roads lead to where we stand;And I believe we'll walk them allNo matter what we may have planned.

Listen to the original song by Don McLean HERE

Credits: Don McLean, 1971, American Pie

Kabir Das - Songs of Kabir (songs 6 and 9)

Written: 1398 - 1518

Published: One Hundred Poems of Kabir 1915

Translated: Rabindranath Tagore

Theme: 

Songs:

Song 6 

I.83 candā jhalkai yahi ghat māhīn 

The moon shines in my body, but my blind eyes cannot see it: The moon is within me, and so is the sun.

The unstruck drum of Eternity is sounded within me; but my deaf ears cannot hear it. 

So long as man clamours for the I and the Mine, his works are as naught:

When all love of the I and the Mine is dead, then the work of the Lord is done.

For work has no other aim than the getting of knowledge:

When that comes, then work is put away. 

The flower blooms for the fruit: when the fruit comes, the flower withers.

The musk is in the deer, but it seeks it not within itself: it wanders in quest of grass. 

Song 9 

I.104 aisā lo nahīn taisā lo 

O How may I ever express that secret word?

O how can I say He is not like this, and He is like that?

If I say that He is within me, the universe is ashamed:

If I say that He is without me, it is falsehood.

He makes the inner and the outer worlds to be indivisibly one;

The conscious and the unconscious, both are His footstools.

He is neither manifest nor hidden, He is neither revealed nor unrevealed:

There are no words to tell that which He is.

Credits: Songs of Kabir. Authored by: Kabir Das (Trans. by Rabindranath Tagore).