Dante Gabriel Rossetti

March 18, 2009 at 7:31 pm (Uncategorized)


In 1841, Rossetti entered the Sass’s Academy art school. He was considered extremely skilled beyond his time and made made a good name at a young age. Rossetti’s first major painting was called The Girlhood of Marry Virgin. He was also a skilled poet. His poems  The Blessed Demozel appeared in 1850.






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Oscar Wilde

March 18, 2009 at 7:19 pm (Uncategorized)


Wilde was born in Dublin on October 16, 1854.  He lost his sister at a very young age that had a tragic effect on his life. She died at the age of eight and he was only twelve. This inspired him to write one of his first pieces of poetry. He also is famous for writing The Ballad of Reading Gaol.  He prospered in fame for a time but than everything went down hill.  He had charges made against him from an 1885 law which made “homosexual relations between men” illegal. He went to prison for several years. Wilde’s health deteriorated, and in 1900 he underwent an operation to fix middle ear problems caused by a fall in his prison cell. The ear developed an abscess which led to cerebral meningitis. He passed away in Paris on November 30 at the age of forty-six.


By Oscar Wilde

Tread lightly, she is near
   Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
   The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
   Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
   Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,
   She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
   Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,
   Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone,
   She is at rest.

Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
   Lyre or sonnet,
All my life’s buried here,
   Heap earth upon it.




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Virginia Woolf

March 18, 2009 at 6:19 pm (Uncategorized)


Woolf was a significant literary figure in lodon and is famous for writing Mrs. Dollaway, To the Lighthouse, and Orlando in 1928. Woolf was born Adeline Virginia Stephen in London in 1882. The death of her mother in 1895 and her sister two years later, caused Woolf’ first emotional breakdown.The death of her father in 1904 provoked her to collapse and was briefly institutionalised.On 28 March 1941, Woolf committed suicide. She slipped on her coat, filled its pockets with stones, then walked into the River Ouse near her house and drowned herself. Woolf’s body was not found until 18 April.

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James Robert Baker

March 17, 2009 at 6:00 pm (Uncategorized)


Baker was a gay American who wrote mostly about gay-themed transgressional fiction.  After becoming famous  for writing the  novels Fuel-Injected Dreams, Boy Wonder, and Tim and Pete, it became increasing difficult for Baker to get any more work published. After the reception of Tim and Pete, several critics  him started calling him “The Last Angry Gay Man.” His life partner, Ron Robertson, would say that the criticism caused Baker’s emotional break down (and eventually his death.) Baker committed suicide at his home on November 5, 1997 by hanging himself. This caused an angry uproar from the gay community. Homosexual authors were rattled by this because of their need to write in a gay perspective.

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The Life and Death of Dylan Thomas

March 15, 2009 at 4:14 am (Uncategorized)


Dylan Marlais Thomas was born in Swansea, Wales on October 27, 1914.  In December of 1934 he moved to London and released his first book of poems called Eighteen Poems. Sometimes Thomas would work on one line of poetry for days. His poetry would build up line by line, at glacier like speed. In April of 1936 he met Caitlin MacNamara and  married her two years later after publishing his second book of poetry called Twenty-five Poems.He moved back to Whales, where him and his wife had three children. But unfortunately he dropped dead in his New York hotel during his fourth lecture tour of the United States in 1953. Dylan Marlais Thomas drank himself to death only a few days after his 39th birthday.




Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.



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The Suicide of Sylvia Plath

March 4, 2009 at 4:31 pm (Uncategorized)


In 1953, the poet Sylvia Plath attempted suicide for the first time. Her earlier hospitalization and shock therapy may have left her traumatized enough to eventually sink that low into depression. Plath said that her time in the hospital was “a time of darkness, despair, and disillusion–so black only as the inferno of the human mind can be–symbolic death, and numb shock–then the painful agony of slow rebirth and psychic regeneration.” She eventually pulled through these tragic times in her life. In 1956, she married British poet Ted Hughes after receiving a Fulbright scholarship. She went on to have three children even though she had suffered a painful miscarriage Her friends would say that she seemed cheerful most of the time, but i think that her feelings of happiness were not strong enough to help her overcome her demons.
Plath took her own life on the morning of February 11, 1963 at the age of 31. Leaving out the morning’s breakfast, she tightly sealed the rooms between herself and her sleeping children with wet towels and cloths. Plath then laid her head in the oven while the gas was turned on. Many will argue that Plath did not intend to die because of a note that she had left on her neighbors door,asking him to call her doctor. Others will say that she thrusted her head so far back into the gas oven, that she had really ment to die.




Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue
Pour of tor and distances.

God’s lioness,
How one we grow,
Pivot of heels and knees!–The furrow

Splits and passes, sister to
The brown arc
Of the neck I cannot catch,

Berries cast dark

Black sweet blood mouthfuls,
Something else

Hauls me through air—-
Thighs, hair;
Flakes from my heels.

Godiva, I unpeel—-
Dead hands, dead stringencies.

And now I
Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas.
The child’s cry

Melts in the wall.
And I
Am the arrow,

The dew that flies,
Suicidal, at one with the drive
Into the red

Eye, the cauldron of morning.

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