Fury, Galin Todorov – an Analysis


Fury. Anger. Perfect. Suits my current mindset.

Gut Reaction
Sometimes a poem feels so relevant you imagine that there’s some kind of Big Brother surveillance going on in your apartment **checks for hidden cameras and hides under duvet, looking suspicious.**

What does it all mean?
And so we hate, And so we hate
Through darkest fears we endure the weight.

Hate is a heavy, hard emotion, hence the imagery of endurance. Repetition of ‘and so we hate’ makes me feel like it is something the writer has been trying to avoid and yet here they are, all their ‘darkest fears’ pressing down and culminating in hatred.

Alone, alone, and thus together –
When hate is so strong you feel alone in your rage, so alone that the only person that understands that temperament (at least in the moment) is you – you are together with yourself. Also, I’m sure others can relate to the blind red spot that surfaces when The Rage is upon them. (No?….. just me then….sigh… )

We burn, we yearn! Still, it stands a painful endeavour.
That burning feeling of hate is like holding a piece of coal in the pit of your stomach. A low, deep rooted pain that silently carries itself with you. Yearning? The writer is yearning for something so much that they are hating it – or themselves, and yet they continue.

In hate we feel that dreadful call;
The chime of combat, a sword to draw.

Hate isn’t the most fun of emotions. No one wakes up and wishes they could hate. But when it strikes, it really does feel like a call to arms and anything, small or big, feels like an attach that sends a rage rushing throughout you.

It steals our judgement, hah, what gall!
There’s a reason we use the expression ‘blind hate’, because there is no sense or reason, the hate is just there, and any normal sense of what is fair and just goes out the window to be replaced only by anger and indignance – how dare your brain try to rationalise this feeling?!

In view there stands another flaw.
Either you pick up on something about yourself that you forgot you disliked and turn the anger inwards, or, more likely (or simply as well as), everything, literally everything you see and do is a slap in the face, red rag to a bull, and so on. Put simply, everything is wrong and everything you see just makes you more and more annoyed with the world.

Like that, a seething rage of new
would replace the dawn, and then its dew;

Just when perhaps you were beginning to calm, have your senses return, something sets you off again, replacing the original point of your anger.

the skies – made so everblue –
would soon adopt a darker hue.

Your new anger is bigger, louder, angrier, and your original concern seems insignificant and minute. This new hatred rages on, darker and heavier than every before. There is no optimism to be seen in a beautiful blue sky or anything. You are mid-hate. Nothing is going to stop you.

But was that truly never known?
I ask you now – a question thrown.
For what was there, to glare with flare
you sought to vanquish, not to bear.

This stanza feels like an attempt by the writer to pinpoint where their hatred. They are so far down the path of potential self-destruction that they forgot what set them off in the first place. They started off with a perhaps mild indignance – ‘glare with flare’ – fire in your eyes perhaps, shooting daggers at whoever or whatever has caused the hate – yet you initially tried to get yourself out of that mood – ‘you sought to vanquish’ – because you’ve been in this hateful mood before and know what it is like – you don’t want ‘to bear’ it.

A seething anger, seething rage!
The red fog has descended.

A march towards a fatal stage!
You know this is approaching some inevitable, painful conclusion. You’ve set your course and there’s no backing away now. Not until the rage has worked its way out and caused the ultimate destruction.

You stride with traction, you cling to action
You stick to your guns, your rage-justified anger, whether this makes any sense or not.

The mark is clear, the urge austere!
The mark? The target? The reason for the fury is now remembered? Or imagined, decided and now stubbornly pursued?

You grab the shear – there is no fear!
You’re about to ‘stab’ – metaphorically hopefully – whatever has caused this anger. I’m either going to duck behind a cushion or bring up the rear and support you, I haven’t decided yet.

Do it! Do it! Be sincere!
You know the plan; just adhere!
Just a strike and it’ll disappear!
Again, again! Your freedom’s near!

Here’s that moment of doubt again. You know the one. You’ve worked up a good mad at someone and planned your answer (and theirs) perfectly, but there’s that stupid reasoning in your head, the sensible bit that makes you think twice, even for a second. But you can’t give up now, you have been wronged and need to make this right! Stick to your guns! Stay on target!

And yet… Regardless of infraction,
There was never any lasting satisfaction…

Hm. Okay. So you’ve struck out at your target/victim/antagoniser. You’ve done whatever deed you wanted to and now you stand, the bitterness of retaliation on your tongue. Realising that now matter how you have been wronged, you were never going to gain satisfaction from such harsh reactions. Oh dear. Now what?

Form – the vaguely technical stuff
Division and order
7 stanzas telling the story of someone who has been wronged in someway, working themselves up into madness with the voices in their head goading them on, and then, attack! And the come down that follows.

The tone is parallel to the blind rage that fills you when you have been wronged, all the way up to the moment of the attack and then the anti-climatic feeling that follows, most likely with guilt.

Suggested rhyme scheme

We have internal rhyme (line 4 as an example)repetition throughout, end stopped and run on lines, and a mixture of masculine and feminine rhyme.

Similes and metaphors
I like the use of ‘endeavour’ to bring to life the anger that the writer is feeling. The sky used in stanza 3 I liked especially because one, who hasn’t turned a simple bad mood into a raging temper (blue sky becoming a darker hue) and two, who hasn’t refused to see the good in things when they are mid-Rage?

Author’s relationship with their subject
I feel a bit like the author is that little devil on the shoulder that likes to egg you on in your mind-fog of anger. Pushing and pushing until you react and then, oh…. look what you did… stepping back and suddenly being quiet when you wish it would help.

Other points of view (ideas from other sources)
The author suggests that they have given their own spin on raging against a flaw in law and order. Raging against the world? However it is meant… I hear you!

Signing off
I apologise. The rage is on me and I am angered by everyone and everything and this poem resonates, whether intentionally or not, with my current mood.

That descending red fog that taints every view and every thought and emotion is like being possessed and viewing your body and mind do strange things while you sit there in a little corner of your mind, awaiting the destruction. For which, of course, the possessor will have disappeared and left you to deal with the fall out. Naturally. The logic of your mind hammers at the door of your brain telling you to stop, just stop, with the vengeful, awful thing you are about to say or do because you know, you just know it is not going to end well. You’ve been here before. You know how bad it’s going to get. You know you’re going to regret it. You don’t want to go through it again and yet here you are, on target to cause mayhem – in all probability, only to yourself, but still. It hurts, it really hurts, you don’t want to go through it again. But somehow, you do. You rage, you grind teeth, clench fists, building up to the crescendo when you do whatever it is that you do – scream, shout, hurt in whatever way, guided only you blind sense of being wronged, blinkers on completely and then… then it is done and finally you can see the sense that has been trying to escape all along. Oops. Now what? Now.. now you are alone to deal with the fall out. Feel better? Justified? Of course not…and here comes the fun bit…. enjoy…


All Poetry

When I read this I think of the song… Halo


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