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Brief Poetry Deconstructed, Briefly

Deceptive Archetypes and Death in “Roses are red”

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Sugar is sweet,
And so are you.

The erotic realism at the end of this well known work is overshadowed by the chromatic generalizations of the first two lines. The inherent declaration that (all) roses are red and violets blue rings rather false, certainly now that we understand, after significant research, this is not the case at all. Aware of this incongruous feature in the poem, we are forced to look closer at the flowers’ descriptions, and at once can see the use of inacccurate universalities as a deliberate attempt by the author to draw the reader not to the sweetness of sugar and the alluded objective of attention (the “you” of the last line), but to the final completion of life, when such things will no longer be sweet.

Through this abstract twist the red of the rose, normally a symbol of love, becomes transformed to demonstrate an innate confusion over death and loss of a loved one. Also within this context, the blue of the violet shows not a faithful attachment, but instead the total disenfranchisement of the soul as it passes from the world in which the flowers, as well as all physical elements, reside. With these changes in our viewpoint on the poem’s definitional structure, the previously assumed strongest focus in the poem now becomes its opposite: a souring towards crystalline condiments and sentimental love.

A Knowing Intricacy to the Self-Referential Couplet

I’m a poet,
and didn’t know it.

The challenge wonderfully taken in this poem is not in providing a depth of description through a brevity of words, but by stepping knowingly through multiple layers of self-reference, and displaying a deeper understanding, or knowledge, of the form.

One should know that the choice by the author to knowingly refer to himself leads to a knowledge of the poet’s first nature, which is to rhyme (a poet may write unmetered, non-rhyming “modern” poetry, but that does not negate this knowledge). Yet the designation of what is known and not known within the poem does not focus on knowing one is a poet, but on not knowing one is one. That is, the knowledge one was not a poet knowingly, whereas they unknowningly had been one all along. This knowing level of circular knowledge in a poem is not often surpassed. That it’s found within a poem for which the original author is unknown makes it no less a poem one should not ignore.

Passing Rhyme: Poetry’s Flatulence-Music Dualism

Beans, beans,
The magical fruit.
The more you eat,
The more you toot.

Whether well executed or not, the attempt at provoking a thematic parallel between that of wind instruments and breaking wind typically stands out in the genre of flatulential conceptualization in poetry and poetic prose. Most authors laboring with the release of intestinal gases as an elemental factor tend to steer clear of any such musical relationship, either through ignorance of it’s potential resonance when successful, or fear of it’s odorous complexity. This avoidance tends to stain such writing.

For example, the lack of any binding strength can be seen when Shakespeare, in A Comedy of Errors, has Dromio of Ephesus say “A man may break a word with you, sir, and words are but wind: Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind.” Also somewhat less emitting is the apochryphal lines attributed to Wordsworth: “Your smell apparent; I must say; It’s in the air and drifts this way.”

Sadly, there are few works which one can compare to Beans beans for similar topic structure. Apparently, the true art between music and farts lie only with the ears that hear them, and the poet who cuts them.