'The bakery ruins' ; 7 April, 2023.

1 May, 2023
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“The bakery ruins”  
Soman Ragavan : Hello. Can I post a poem of mine for analysis, please ?

ChatGPT
Hello Soman Ragavan! Of course, you can post your poem here for analysis. I would be happy to read it and provide feedback. Please feel free to share your work.
 
Soman Ragavan : My poem : "The bakery ruins." Please analyse by each stanza, then give overall comments. Mention similar poems from other authors, where possible. THE BAKERY RUINS

ChatGPT
Sure, I'd be happy to analyze your poem "The Bakery Ruins" by stanza and then provide overall comments. Here is my analysis:

Stanza 1: The first stanza sets the scene of the poem and establishes the tone of sadness and desolation. The speaker describes the bakery ruins as a "sad and moving spectacle" and notes the "mute and touching desolation" of the once-happy village. The final line suggests that some sinister force is at work, which creates a sense of foreboding.

Stanza 2: The second stanza describes the bakery before its destruction. The speaker notes that it was once the pride of the village and was cherished since childhood. However, it fell victim to modernity's ravage, which destroyed everything in its path. The stanza ends on a melancholic note, lamenting the loss of the bakery.

Stanza 3: The third stanza describes the bakery in its ruined state. The old building, once simple and rustic, has fallen cruelly and is now nothing more than a memory. The skilled baker is gone, and the bakery's trade is lost to modernity.

Stanza 4: The fourth stanza continues to describe the bakery's ruin. Everything has rotted away, and the bakery has been ravaged and destroyed. The speaker mourns the loss of the brick oven, the wooden trough, and the good smell of yeast.

Stanza 5: The fifth stanza highlights the contrast between the old ways and modern technology. The expert eyes of the baker have been replaced by sensors and thermometers, and firewood has been replaced by diesel. The rolls are no longer carefully ushered in by the baker but are now shoved in on trays in a rough manner.

Stanza 6: The sixth stanza describes the complete destruction of the bakery. The wooden roof and doors are gone, and the simple floors have vanished. Only the stone walls remain, serving as a reminder of the bakery's former glory. The stanza ends with the bakery's final resting place, overgrown with shrubs and weeds.

Stanza 7: The seventh stanza reflects on the broader theme of the poem, the destruction of heritage in the name of modernity. The speaker laments the loss of other village trades, such as the smithy and dairy. The stanza ends with a call to action to save the remaining treasures of the village.

Stanza 8: The eighth stanza contrasts the ingenuity of the old craftsmen with the artless repetition of modern technology. The speaker notes that the village baker's skill is now replaced by nameless new-fangled technology. The stanza ends with a call to cherish the craftsmen's mettle.

Stanza 9: The ninth stanza returns to the bakery ruins, where the speaker reflects on the passing of time and the inevitability of modernity. The speaker mourns the loss of the bakery and notes that even memories must be denied. The stanza ends with a sense of despair, as the village treasures are taken away despite desperate defenses.

Stanza 10: The final stanza serves as a summary of the poem's themes. The speaker laments the sad and desolate state of the bakery ruins and the reproach in the swaying reeds. The speaker reflects on the luck of the green weeds growing in this historic place and notes the contrast with the lost bakery.

Overall, "The Bakery Ruins" is a poignant and nostalgic poem that mourns the destruction of heritage in the name of modernity. The speaker laments the loss of the bakery, once the pride of the village, and reflects on the passing of time and the inevitability of change. The poem's themes are universal and resonate with other works that mourn the loss of heritage and tradition (…)

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At Stanley, Rose Hill, Mauritius, around 1963.
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                                      THE  BAKERY  RUINS

What a sad and moving spectacle,
What mute and touching desolation
In this once-happy and carefree region :
There must be at work some sinister oracle.

Once the pride of this cosy village,
Cherish'd since our tender age,
Our bakery fell to modernity’s ravage :
Nothing hath withstood this rampage.

Hath now fallen low so cruelly,
The old building, simple and rustic,
Where the dough was work’d expertly
By the baker with his skills fantastic.

The goodly roof to rot hath fallen,
The simple trade to loss was driven :
Yon work, once plied with manly labour,
Now hath gone utterly out of favour.

Little by little everything hath rott'd away :
Gone the brick oven, gone the wooden trough....
All ravag'd and destroy'd, to modernity giving way,
All trampl'd into oblivion in manners so rough....

Here once rose the good smell of yeast,
For all villagers truly a daily feast;
Here took shape our golden-brown bread,
Now callously banish'd, and forever dead.

The expert eyes of the peeping baker,
In a departing sigh and final shiver,
Yonder have yield'd, in some modern quarters,
To mere sensors and lifeless thermometers.

The goodly firewood lov'd by the dough so well
Now hath been replac'd by vulgarly snorting diesel.
The rolls, once usher'd in by the caring baker,
Now are shov'd in on trays in some rough manner.

Where once stood my belov'd village bakery,
Now I see only subdu'd and silent misery;
Gone the wooden roof, gone the wooden doors :
Everything gone, along with the simple floors.

Only left now, the solitary stone walls,
Of  my memories answering the calls;
Shrubs and weeds everywhere flourish
Where our bakery finally did perish.

                                        @@@

Like our bakery, that goodly heritage,
All our memories, little by little,
Now are subject'd to some rampage,
While some reprieve enjoys yon nettle.

'Twas not enough to starve our smithy,
'Twas not enough to destroy our dairy,
'Twas not enough to betray our bakery :
All be mangl'd in the name of modernity.

Ah, me ! Stop this pointless rampage,
Save our treasures, save our village,
Save a forlorn stone of my bakery :
Save at least the anvil of my smithy !

All the goodly trades of our people,
Now taken over by sheer automation.
Everything done in artless repetition :
Yet, cherish’d be our craftsmen's mettle.

What the village baker did with sheer ingenuity,
Now needs some nameless, new-fangl'd technology;
What the baker caringly caress'd in his bakery,
Now mere belts convey yonder mechanically.

But, often in my bakery ruins I wander,
On the rustic life silently to ponder,
While we are forc'd to cave under
By modernity, that cruel leveller.

Soon our bakery ruins from us will be snatch’d :
To us even lingering memories must be denied ;
On to our village treasures have they latch’d,
In spite of desperate defences we have tried.

How sad and desolate these bakery ruins !
What a forlorn murmur in these wild weeds !
What a silent reproach in these swaying reeds !
What a shame, yon mound of littering tins !

Lingering ruins, stay with me awhile,
For, to me will be denied this corner;
My lamentations will have to surrender :
My memories be snatch’d tile by tile.

Green weeds, swaying in this great clime,
What a luck to grow in this historic place,
Where once stood my bakery sublime,
And where now in solitude I pace.

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