“And indeed there will be timeTo wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”

Poetry, if it is not to be a lifeless repetition of forms, must be constantly exploring "the frontiers of the spirit". But these frontiers are not like the surveys of geographical explorers, conquered once for all and settled. The frontiers of the spirit are more like the jungle which, unless continuously kept under control, is always ready to encroach and eventually obliterate the cultivated area.- That Poetry Is Made with Words, T.S.Eliot, 1939T.S. Eliot has attained the status of classic auth [...]

Review3 of 5 stars to the poetry of T.S. Eliot, specifically, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock and Other Poems. In “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”, a man confronts his physical sexuality during an elite social gathering. The man, J. Alfred Prufrock, breathes in his surroundings and then uses them to define his own appearance as the antithesis of what he sees. The man has no self-esteem and therefore constantly dwells on his negative attributes and less-than-perfect features. In the [...]

Question: Why oh why do they make children read Prufrock in school? How can a kid, having run in from recess with pink perfect cheeks and years to go before hairs start sprouting out of weird places, have any idea what T.S. Eliot is talking about? How can someone who thinks 21-year-olds are ancient, possibly get Prufrock? I remember being asked to read this poem in fourth grade, and it is touching in an odd way to think back on the scene in the classroom - my 40-ish, balding teacher, bent almost [...]

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock is the most beautiful poem I have ever read. I'm not a big poetry connoisseur, so feel free to disagree. I would eat this poem if I could. Or marry it. I would hold the hair of this poem while it puked, if it were the type of poem to drink heavily to the point of wretching, but it's not. This poem is far too good for those sort of shennanigans. (Instead, it partakes of tea and cakes and ices and lingers in dooryards and ponders the beauty and futility of life, [...]

"Do I dare disturb the universe?"(view spoiler)[Anxiety, worries, and fears rendering you unable to act on your thoughts. Not knowing what to expect from the future besides the foreseeable outcome of thinning hair and growing old. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock portrays these common concerns with eloquence. There are many lines throughout the piece that I have thought over. The third line states, “Like a patient etherized upon a table”. I think that Eliot uses this image as a foreshadow [...]

“The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” is an examination of the tortured ego of the modern man—overeducated, eloquent, neurotic, pompous and disturbed, who’s ironically tortured due to his overwhelming brilliance. The main character, not someone of fame and wealth but rather an unacknowledged poet, sees the world as spiritually exhausted and a wasteland. Humans are incapable of communicating with one another because their psychological state is too fragile and afraid of change. He notices [...]

let us go then you and I I actually love this poem so much. I read it in high-school and it actually stuck with me so that means something because not all poetry does.Do I dare Disturb the universe?There is a version of this on spotify and the person reading it reads it so well and I love it so much I listen to it all the time because I'm a certified nerd and I'm Extra In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo.

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous— Almost, at times, the FoolTo read and hear ! :)youtube/watch?v=2l-EVاول لقاء لي مع ت.س. إليوت كان في سنوات نشأتي الأولى من خلال ع� [...]

My copy of this book I stole from my high school library.In my freshman poetry class, we were told to memorize a poem of at least 10 lines. I told my teacher that this was a pointless assignment and that rote memorization doesn't teach anything, but honestly I was just lazy and hated the idea of memorizing anything.Then I stumbled upon The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. It took me one night/morning to memorize the 132 lines.

Oh Eliot, how u push me to fall into the chasm of nihilism. 😞

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock is a masterpiece, 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟, but, as a whole book of poems, it just functions like a pop album, meaning that there are two very good poems or hits (Rhapsody on a Windy Night is also brilliant) and the rest feel like fillers (which Eliot knew, for they are clearly jokes). Let us go instead of Let's go (same goes for do not ask and maybe other cases) seems like a poetic inaccuracy to me (it would be great to have Ezra Pound's opinion on this [aren't a [...]

T S Eliot's first pamphlet of poetry, Prufrock and Other Observations was incessantly hyped before publication by Ezra Pound, the one time modernist poet and erstwhile fascist campaigner during the Second World War, although that shouldn't be used as a stick to beat Eliot, even if there were many doubts about his own sympathies at the time (particularly in relation to his alleged anti-Semitism). While Eliot used allusions to such an extent that some wondered whether he was in fact guilty of plag [...]

I re-read this and have indeed gained deeper insight from my first reading in high school. Raises questions of introspection, of mortality,of inhibitions,of regrets,of hopes,of drive,of happiness,of love,of lust,and so much more.In a word: Beautiful!Now, I leave you with the opening stanza:"S’io credesse che mia risposta fosseA persona che mai tornasse al mondo,Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.Ma percioche giammai di questo fondoNon torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,Senza tema d’inf [...]

The first time I heard this poem out loud, all I could say was "Wow." I haven't read much of Eliot's work, and to be honest, most of it goes over my head. However, "Prufrock" connected with me so strongly—the indecision, fear of the future, fear of doing something incredible, falling in love, the meaninglessness of life, the fear of not being worthy of affection, doom in death. Written so eloquently, with great sadness & emptiness, this gorgeous poem voices the fears of every person doesn' [...]

The Lovesong and the other works here are full of navel-gazing reflections on the inexplicable fixations and frustrations of emotional life, throwing up frequently resonant physical details, framed with a self-consciousness that sometimes cloys or annoys, and sometimes inspires deep sympathy.

Prufrock is one of my all-time favorite poems and it is included here with other works by Eliot. This is a great and relatively short way to capture the beauty of Eliot's verse.

Read as preparation for reading and reviewing The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufock: a Modern Reimagining by Sarah Daltry.

It is an odd thing, but recently I read someone on this site say that they had always thought Eliot was English and was a bit surprised to find out that he was actually an American. Now, I’ve always thought of Prufrock as being English, but the odd thing is that now that I think about why I should believe that I really couldn’t tell you. I mean, as a cultural phenomena I think it is generally Americans who use their middle name, but keep their first initial dangling, so J. Alfred Prufrock wo [...]

I have measured out my life with coffee spoonsWhen I was asked by BBC Culture what would be my favourite line by the great poet T.S. Eliot, this famous expression from his poem The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock came up instantly to my mind.Not for my adoration for espresso (worship would be the appropriate term), but for being intrigued by how a simple line provides multiple figurative meaningsMy illustrated quote on the BBC Culture's page bbc/culture/story/2015The reference to the coffee spoo [...]

This poem is, I think, Eliot’s ‘fanfare for the common man’. Prufrock is the ordinary bloke in the street, and his name itself seems deliberately humdrum to set him apart from the great figures of literature: ‘No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be,’ he exclaims self-deprecatingly after a rather long passage of philosophising. But although he is no hero, Prufrock is as capable of appreciating beauty and having deep insights into the human condition as any of the exalted ones. [...]

Ok, here is the thing: I LOVE PRUFROCK:)Oh God! I loooooove this book. I read "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" maybe a million times! It's my favorite poem. This particular poem takes you in a journey to a world where people are asleep - just like the world we're living in today! A world so ugly, like a "“sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:”Prufrock is so sick of that world, he wants to shout, scream, and tell people that they are sinking, and that their lives are going in the wrong [...]

In reality 4.5 stars. The title poem gets a full five stars, undoubtedly. It was a poem I thought I wouldn't like (heaven knows why), and I read it almost by accident (the beginning is quoted in a John Green novel). I read it three times in a row, every time more blown away than the last. The other poem I absolutely loved in this small collection was "Rhapsody on a Windy Night". The last two lines made me draw my breath sharply and almost start crying. I was so shudderingly stricken by the endin [...]

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,And in short, I was afraid.This is undoubtedly the best poem ever written, I feel so lucky I got the chance to study it, or else I am pretty sure I wouldn't have stumbled across it. Or if I had had, I wouldn't have picked it up for fear I might not be able to grasp the meaning behind it. But, amazingly, I did, I felt it in my bones which made it all the more shocking. I've been crying my [...]

My most favorite parts: Motif of cat as night & Image of patient on thhe surgery table & the spider on the wall. This poem makes me go "yew" and "exactly".The motif of the cat thrills me because it is so perfect. This cat idea has occurred to others, yet it took all these centuries, millenia, for a writer to get the imge so perfect.

A reread of this tiny, lovely book of poetry. Even though I don't understand all of what Eliot is trying to say, I thoroughly enjoy the language. His words sound so absolutely beautiful, and a lot of his poems are very atmospheric. Some of my favourite passages:For I have known them all already, known them allHave known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;From "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"Now that lilacs are in bloomShe has a bowl of lilacs i [...]

"Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think they will sing to me." O the ever so lovely and depressing love song of Mr. J. Alfred Prufrock. He is the victim of the modernist generation who wandered around aimlessly searching for meaning in life and finding nothing there. T.S. Eliot coined this generation the wasteland. Maybe I'll eat a peach. Maybe I'll wear f [...]

E se eu disser que dou passeios por becos quando anoitece?E vou fitando o fumo que sobe do cachimbode homens em mangas de camisa, à janela, solitários?Eu devia ter sido um ferro de duas garrasA rasgar o fundo desses mares de silêncio.

We have lingered in the chambers of the seaBy sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brownTill human voices wake us, and we drown.I picked this up after reading references to it in 'The Fault in Our Stars' and have to say that I don't think a poem has ever affected me so much (except maybe some works by Alfred Tennyson).What beautiful imagery! What lovely, smooth, flowing poetry.I'm not sure whether it would be correct to label J. Alfred Prufrock a neurotic, or simply someone who is a little to [...]

This is one of my most favourite books. I love T. S. Eliot. His writing, his poemhis rhythm is without equal. I will never again walk around a beach without remembering:'Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.'It's magical and yet so real. Read it. Again. And again. You will learn something very unique about yourself.T.S. Eliot rules. 5 stars.