Metaphysical Poetry

 

Introduction

“Metaphysical Poets” is a term coined by poet & critic Samuel Johnson, who describes a loose group of English lyric poets of the 17th century, whose work was characterised by ample use of conceits, guess & speculation about topics such as love, religion etc.

These poets were not formally affiliated; most of them did not know each other or read each other’s work. Metaphysical poetry is extremely intelligent & witty. It is deeply religious but is also ironical.

It is a little bit different from other types of poetry. Poems classified in this category do share the same characteristics. They are all of highly intellectualised, use strange imagery & contain complicated thoughts.

Meaning & Origin

The word “meta” means “after”. Thus metaphysics deals with the questions that can’t be explained by science. It questions the nature of reality in a philosophical way. Metaphysics can cover a broad range of topics from religious to consciousness. Metaphysics is about exploration & philosophy, not about science & mathematics.

Characteristics

Themes:

Metaphysical poetry is spiritual & has often religious themes. Moreover, it focuses on love, as the union of soul.

Literary Devices: 

Metaphysical poetry uses metaphors, puns, paradoxes & meter to create drama & tension. 

In addition, Metaphysical poetry uses scientific, medical & legal words & phrases to create arguments about the philosophical aspect of life.

Poets:

 Metaphysical poets were men of high intellect. They were all graduated from Oxford University, Cambridge University or they studied at one of the Inns of Court in the city of London. With the help of their vast knowledge, they presented new ideas & stories to their readers.

Unclarity:

 Metaphysical poetry is considered highly ambiguous & obscure due to high intellect & knowledge of metaphysical poets. The poetry is greatly challenging to understand at the first reading. It needs full concentration & full attention to getting to the roots of the matter.

Short Poems:

 Metaphysical poetry is considered to be brief & concise. Every line conveys a lot of meanings in a few words. Every word is adjusted in every line like a brick in a wall & conveys the message of the author. Hence there is no wastage of words.

Sayings in the Poetry:

 Metaphysical poetry is a vast collection of maxims & sayings. Thus epigrammatic quality is part & parcel of the metaphysical poetry. John Donne is a pioneer in this regard.

Metaphysical Conceits:

 A significant feature of metaphysical poetry is the use of metaphysical conceits. It is the unique quality of metaphysical poetry. A conceit is a comparison of two dissimilar things, which may have very little in common. E.g. Abraham Cowley in his poem “The Mistress” compares his love for ladies to his habit of travelling in various countries of the world.

Originality: 

Originality is the hallmark of metaphysical poets. All the metaphysical poets were unique & original in their ideas & thoughts. They didn’t follow the path of their contemporary poets. They stood against their contemporaries & followed their own way of writing poetry.

Wit:

 Metaphysical wit is also a noteworthy feature of metaphysical poetry. Metaphysical wit is the expression of one’s idea & thoughts, using aptly & technically, the words & various figures of speech in such a manner as to provide pleasure to the readers. John Donne is called the “Monarch of Wit” in the history of metaphysical poetry.

Platonic Love: Platonic love is another feature of metaphysical poetry. Platonic love means, spiritual love, which is free from elements of physical love.

Conclusion

Metaphysical poetry is not intended to be read in a passive way. Its use of paradox, imagery, conceit & wit is meant to awaken the reader. Metaphysical poetry asks the philosophical questions about religion, faith, spirituality & being.

Metaphysical poetry

 

Death (John Donne)

Flea(John Donne)

The Sun Rising (John Donne)

Ecstasy (John Donne )

The Collar (George Herbert)

To His Coy Mistress(Andrew Marvell)

Summary of Poem Death 

The speaker directly addresses and personifies Death, telling it not to be arrogant just because some people find death scary and intimidating. In fact, death is neither of these things because people don’t really die when death—whom the speaker pities—comes to them; nor will the speaker truly die when death arrives for him.

Comparing death to rest and sleep—which are like images of death—the speaker anticipates death to be even more pleasurable than these activities. Furthermore, it’s often the best people who go with death—which represents nothing more than the resting of the body and the arrival of the soul in the afterlife.

Death is fully controlled by fate and luck, and often administered by rulers or people acting desperately. The speaker points out that death is also associated with poison, war, and illness. Drugs and magic spells are more effective than death when it comes to rest. With all this in mind, what possible reason could death have for being so puffed up with pride?

Death is nothing but a mere sleep in between people’s earthly lives and the eternal afterlife, in which death can visit them no more. It is instead death—or a certain idea of death as something to be scared of—that is going to die.

Summary of Poem Flea

Look at this flea and you'll see how small the thing that you deny me really is. It bit me first and now it bites you. In the flea, our two bloods are mingled together. You know that this isn’t sinful or shameful; it’s not a loss of virginity. And yet the flea gets to enjoy your blood without courting you first, and it grows fat digesting our combined blood. And that is more than we are allowed to do.

Wait, don’t kill the flea and kill us with it! In the flea’s body, we are almost, no, more than, married. The flea is you and me. It is our marriage bed, our wedding chapel. Though our parents’ disapprove, we are safe within these dark, living walls. Though you may want to kill me, do not add suicide and sacrilege to your list of sins: three sins will come from killing the flea.

Cruel and unpredictable woman, have you stained your nails purple with the flea’s innocent blood? The flea is guilty of nothing but sucking a drop of blood from you. Yet you exalt in your victory over the flea and say that neither you nor I are weaker for killing it. That’s true enough and you should learn from that how false your fears are. You will lose as much honor when you give your virginity to me as this flea’s death took from you.

Summary of Poem The Sun Rising 

sun, you old, disruptive busybody, why are you shining past the windows and closed curtains to pay an uninvited visit to me and my girlfriend? Do lovers really have to structure their schedules around your movements across the sky? You rude, inflexible, and insensitive jerk, go scold boys who are late to school and apprentices who are sulky about their early morning. Go tell the king's hunting party that the king is about to ride out on a hunt, and urge lowly farm workers to start their harvesting duties. Love, in all its forms, is above the influence of seasons and weather. It is also above the influence of hours, days, and months, which, unlike love, wear out like old rags as time passes.

Why should you think your beams are so worshipped and strong? I could block them out by closing my eyes, except that I wouldn't want to stop looking at my lover that long. Assuming that her eyes aren't so bright that they've blinded yours, go check, and tomorrow evening tell me whether both the East Indies and West Indies are where you left them, or whether they are right here next to me. Ask to see the kings you saw yesterday, and you will hear that they are all lying here in this bed.

My lover is every country, and I am every prince. Nothing else exists. Princes only pretend to be us; compared to our love, all honor is a cheap copy, and all wealth is a futile attempt to attain riches. You, sun, should be half as glad as we are that the whole world fits here in the bedroom. Your old age demands that you take it easy. Because your job is to keep the world warm, you can do your job by keeping us warm. By shining here on us, you can shine everywhere; this bed is your center, and the bedroom walls are the outside boundaries of the solar system.

Summary of Poem The Collar 

The poem begins with the speaker stating that he will stand for his present life no longer. It is time for him to make a change and he intends to resurrect the parts of himself the lost in his youth. He will seek out real pleasures and no longer worry about what is right and wrong. 

As the poem continues, the extent of his confinement is revealed. He has crafted a prison for himself out of his own belief. The ropes will no longer keep him and he will utilize his fears to his own benefit. He will be a stronger man.

The final lines bring the speaker back to his religious reality. The voice of God penetrates through his “raving ” and calms his ardor. He will not do as he said he would; he has been taken back into the fold of the church.

Summary of Poem To His Coy Mistress

 If we had all the time in the world, your prudishness wouldn't be a problem. We would sit together and decide how to spend the day. You would walk by the river Ganges in India and find rubies; I would walk by the river Humber in England and write my poems. I would love you from the very start of time, even before the Biblical Flood; you could refuse to consummate our relationship all the way until the apocalypse. My slow-growing love would gradually become bigger than the largest empires. I would spend a hundred years praising your eyes and gazing at your forehead and two hundred years on each of your breasts. I would dedicate thirty thousand years to the rest of your body and give an era of human history to each part of you. In the final age, your heart would reveal itself. Lady, you deserve this kind of dedication—and I don't want to accept any lesser kind of love. But I am always aware of time, the way it flies by. For us, the future will be a vast, unending desert for all of time. Your beauty will be lost. In the grave, my songs in praise of you will no longer be heard. And worms will take the virginity you so carefully protected during life. Your honor will turn to dust and my desire will turn to ashes. The grave may be a quiet, private place—but no one has sex there. Therefore, while your beauty sits right at the surface of your skin, and every pore of your body exudes erotic passion, let's have sex while we can. Let's devour time like lovesick birds of prey instead of lying about letting time eat away at us. Let's put together our strength and our sweetness and use it as a weapon against the iron gates of life. We may not be able to defeat time in this way, but at least we can make it work hard to take us.