the enso

"Tropical Snowflakes" by marlowe

the poem

Look at this prairie. Those snowflakes
on the tropical breeze are a fluttering flock
of white egrets, birds whose lives
are re-negotiated with each beat
of their elegant wings. It takes
time to get used to, time to repeal.
The bayou looks stagnant, water
green with algae and turtles,
yet currents move
under it, propelling it
to an existence neither
you nor it can foresee. Before
the fisherman’s line becomes
taunt, there is a sea of possibility,
each destiny waiting
to be chosen. In that moment,
you can transform
anything.

A favorite poem is like that first great kiss: you never forget it. The mere mention of it makes your face blush and your heart beat a little faster.

I first read “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” when I was just a junior in High School. I immediately fell in love, hard. Its gauzy spell never shook loose, never left me. To this day, I squeal when I find fragments of the poem reused, whether wrapped in pop culture or an academic treatise.

Why?

You see, unlike the very heady and often cryptic “Waste Land” (T.S. Eliot‘s most famous poem), “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” beckons to you from the first stanza. The language teases you, takes you for a walk, and leaves you breathless.

Its modern sensibility, its bleakness, its layered definition of love remain fresh despite the staleness of the title character. We may now measure our days with text messages instead of coffee spoons, but Prufrock’s cautionary tale about the perils of an ordinary adulthood nonetheless resonate. The bitter angst still bites. The wistful hope still lingers. And the unmatched desire remains almost inaudible.

Read It

Check out the full poem at Bartleby.com.

Hear It

Hear T.S. Eliot read his poem:

What’s your favorite poem?

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