Dream Song 14

BY J OHN BERRYMAN
Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatingly) ‘Ever to confess you’re bored
means you have no

Inner Resources.’ I conclude now I have no

inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as achilles,

who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.

And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.

Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem line-by-line.

Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.

 Right away, the speaker declares that life is a bore. Not really the kinda guy you'd like to
do dinner with; he seems like a real downer. But we do get the feeling that the speaker is
letting us in on something special, confiding in us. We, as readers, feel included. Why?

 Well, dude does use the word, "friends," which gives us the warm and fuzzies. This direct
address to the reader draws us into the poem, making us feel like the speaker is talking
to us. It makes us feel like part of the "in" group.

 As you can see, this first line includes two complete sentences. The first sentence makes
a big declaration: "Life is boring." But the second changes the tone a little; it tells us that
we should keep this declaration to ourselves. Interesting. Okay, let's keep sharing all of
the secrets in our super secret reader-writer Game Day huddle, Mr. Berryman. Tell us
more, tell us more…!
Lines 2-3

After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,

we ourselves flash and yearn,

 Having already admitted that he shouldn't say life is boring, the speaker goes on to give
some examples of the excitement life has to offer.

 The speaker looks toward the natural world for examples of the thrills he knows are there,
but can't seem to get himself stoked about. First there's lightning. Nothing says
excitement like a billion volts of electricity flying through the sky, right? The movement
of the sea, all that sloshing and crashing, that can be pretty exciting too. Even Georgy
Clooney thinks so. The speaker describes the sea as yearning, like the sea's movement is
reaching out for something it can't possess: the land? A boat? Swimmers? It's tough to
say.

 Here, Berryman is using personification to describe the movement of the ocean. He gives
the sea human qualities; in this case, he assigns the sea the ability to yearn. This
personification allows us to connect a little more directly with the sea and perhaps
consider yearnings of our own. Do you want for the cute guy or girl in your fifth period
math class? World domination? Whatever it is, we're guessing you're wanting
for something.

 Once we read line 3, we can see how the sea's personification in line 2 was
foreshadowing the parallel Berryman is drawing between the sea and us human folk. In
line 3, he draws a direct connection between the natural world's awesomeness and the
exhilaration of human life. We have the same potential to "flash and yearn" as the sky
and the sea. Betchya never thought of that before, huh?

 Check out the end words—"yearn" much? Berryman wants to make sure this yearning
comes through loud and clear, so he repeats it at the end of each line. But by repeating
this word on consecutive lines, he also makes yearning seem kind of. Well. Boring.
Hm…

 If everything in life—from us common people to great, potentially cataclysmic forces

like the ocean—can both flash and yearn, is there anything out there that's sacred or
special? Guess not. Because it's literally everywhere, all the flashing and yearning starts
to seem mundane.
Through repeated exposure, the speaker becomes desensitized to these dazzling bits of
living, you know? Kinda like when you see the fifteenth fight erupt in one half-hour
episode of Bad Girls Club. Enough already, right? (Yes, we watched one episode.
Accidentally. We swear, we thought it was PBS.)
Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem line-by-line.

Lines 4-8

and moreover my mother told me as a boy

(repeatingly) 'Ever to confess you're bored
means you have no

Inner Resources.' I conclude now I have no

inner resources, because I am heavy bored.

 Okay, we have to admit that these lines gave us some serious flashbacks to our
childhoods. Whenever we were like, "Mom and Dad, we're bored," our parents would
say, "Go play outside or read a book or something! What, are you lacking
in imagination?" And that's basically what's going on in the first few lines here. The
speaker's own mom has (repeatedly) lectured him that saying you're bored is a sign of
weak character—it means you lack "Inner Resources."

 But if we look closely at line 2, we see that the speaker's mom doesn't say you should
never be bored. She just says you should never confess to being bored. That's a totally
different thing, right? In fact, to say, "Don't confess you're bored!" implies that you're
already bored. Maybe the mom knows more about this boredom stuff than she lets on?
She seems to be echoing what the speaker says in the first line, "life is boring"; and like
the speaker went on to tell us in line 2, she thinks it's better not to talk about it. If there
were a Bored People Club, the first rule would be: you do not talk about being bored.

 In line 8, the speaker resigns to accepting his weakness. He admits that he must be
lacking those inner resources his mom used to go on about because the fact remains, he's
bored and he's going to talk about it. And not just 6th period Geometry bored. This guy is
"heavy" bored. Shmoop likes this description of bored as "heavy." It kind of fits the
feeling don't you think? That droopy, sluggish, stay-in-bed feeling certainly isn't light.

 And remember those repeated end words ("yearn") in the first stanza? Well, John's up to
his old tricks again, but this time he's putting us to sleep with the repeated initial words in
lines 7 and 8: "inner resources." The longer this poem goes on, the more we can really
empathize with the speaker. We can almost hear him say, "If I have to listen to my mom
talk about Inner Resources one more time I'm gonna…" To which we reply, "We feel
your pain, pal."

 These lines also give us a taste of Berryman's humor. It's kind of funny when our
speaker concludes that he has no inner resources. It's like we reponded to our mothers'
telling us to go play outside by saying, "Indubitably, mother. I will do that post haste.
 You are quite correct in that, if I declare I am bored, I have no imagination." Okay, it's
not shoot-milk-out-your-nose funny, but it makes us smile a little. That's what
Berryman's humor is often like: subtle, and a little dark.

Lines 9-10

Peoples bore me,

literature bores me, especially great literature,

 These lines begin to detail what bores our speaker. The first item on our speaker's list of
bores is "peoples." This is a good time to get out your official Shmoop-issue Literary
Microscope (if you didn't get one, you can use ours). Let's consider what the addition of
one little "s" does to the word "people" and how it changes this first item on the list.

 If Shmoop said, "People bore us,"—which we never would because we are by nature
people persons—what would that statement mean to you?

 You'd probably think that we can't find anyone around this here office (or even, this here
world) that we think is interesting. Because everyone we meet bores us on some level.
This is, no doubt, a pretty broad statement and would indicate a pretty empty, unfulfilled
existence. But wait, Berryman found a way to make it even worse.

 The addition of the "s," transforming "people" into "peoples," changes the whole
enchilada. Now, we don't think of a bunch of boring individuals. Instead, we think about
entire groups of people: like, whole nations with names like Yawnland and Your Least
Favorite Teachertown. If Berryman had stuck with the generic noun "people," we might
feel like there was a chance that someone, somewhere, could come along and work the
speaker up into a tizzy. But since he's basically writing off all bipeds with those human
brain things in one fell swoop, we feel a little sorry for the fella.

 Next up on the list of bores: "literature." As you might imagine, this one really irks
Shmoop. How could literature be boring? We know, you're on the speaker's side on this
one. But we are still going to try to change your mind.

 Once again, the speaker declares his boredom of "literature" in the broadest possible
terms. Literature includes everything from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone to The
Song of Songs. It's the whole ball of word-wax. (That was gross and unnecessary, sorry.
Got bored of ourselves for a second.)

 The speaker does get a little more specific at the end of line 10. He singles out "great
literature" as especially boring. Why would anyone do such a thing?!

 Well, by specifying that great literature is especially boring to the speaker, Berryman
makes sure we can't mistake the speaker for someone that just hasn't read the good stuff
 yet. We can't imagine that, perhaps, the speaker just doesn't know what's out there in the
world of literature. The speaker has been there, done that, and would like for you to talk
to the hand. Whatever.

 Anywho, take a look at the initial and end words in line 10. You guessed it: "literature"
and "literature" again. More repetition is at work here. And the sound of these words
really isn't doing anything special for us. This repeated pattern of repetition (haha, we're
funny) just makes us feel like we're being forced to read the same thing over and over
again. If all great literature were written using the same few words, we might feel the
same way the speaker does about all this great books business: bo-ring! We might even
take a hint from this dude's cavalier exit from class.

Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem line-by-line.
X
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as achilles,
who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.

 Hold up y'all. Where did this Henry guy come from? If you really want to unlock all the
mysteries behind Henry, check out the Speaker section. For now, you need to know this:
he bores the speaker. It turns out to be a little more complex than that, but we'll save it for
later. You're welcome.
 There are some specific things about Henry that the speaker finds boring. Henry's
difficulties and complaints bore the speaker. Berryman uses a simile here to quantify
Henry's "plights & gripes." Henry is "as bad as achilles" when it comes to his
complaining. (Ouch, that darn heel! Um. For more on what Achilles had to gripe about,
check out our awesome mythology section).
 You might have noticed that "achilles" is missing his capital "A." You thought you
caught Shmoop in a typo, right? Not this time. Like all of e.e. cummings' work,
Berryman intentionally didn't use a capital letter here, for this demigod's name. Why?
Certainly, this could be taken as a sign of disrespect. Imagine writing to a nun about how
"jesus christ died for our sins." Remember, this speaker is bored by everything. He
doesn't even find one of the greatest warriors in Greek mythology interesting enough to
give him the same credit as any other Proper Noun.
 In line 13, the speaker tells us just what it is about Achilles that he finds boring. Turns
out, Achilles was a people person and an art lover. People and art: two things we already
know our speaker hates (see lines 9 and 10). People and art: two things you already know
we love. But still, we're guessing the speaker and Achilles won't be hanging out anytime
soon.
 Our speaker is starting to sound a little like a broken record, don't you think? Here he
goes, repeating himself again. He told us in lines 9 and 10 that people and art bore him.
Then he tells us again at the end of line 13. Hey speaker, take it from us: maybe you'rethe
boring one.

Line 14
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag

 Line 14 kind of recalls the sky and sea from the poem's first stanza. The speaker once
again turns his (bored, dull) attention to the landscape. This time, it's the "tranquil hills."
And boy, do they look like "a drag."
 Even booze is a real snooze for the speaker. Maybe there's just no hope for this guy.
Maybe he wants to be bored. He's not even trying! (Unlike Berryman, who seemed to
lean on the old sauce a little too much. Poor guy.)
 Okay, it's time to address those ampersands and parentheses that have been floating
around. We think they give the poem an air of informality. It's as if whatever the speaker
is saying is totally unrehearsed. And, like, maybe this poem hasn't even been edited.
 These punctuation marks also give the poem a sense of immediacy and urgency; they're
both expressive and kind of shorthand-y. So they make us feel like Berryman was trying
to get the words down on the page the moment they popped into his head, like he was
scribbling notes in a dream journal right after waking up.

Lines 15-18

and somehow a dog

has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.

 And now for something completely different. This poem takes a totally surreal turn in the
last 4 lines. But hang in there. We're gonna help you sort this out. Yes, even the part
about the dog.
 Let's start with Fido. A dog, in general, is a very familiar, very common housepet. Dogs
often represent loyalty and companionship; you know, man's best friend and all that.
(Lassie, no!)
 This particular dog has left the scene. Presumably, he's run off some considerable
distance, out of sight, into the "mountains" (sure, why not!), the "sea" (hm, maybe?), or
the "sky" (what?).
 This great disappearing act might not make much sense, but there is something familiar
here. The "mountains" (or "hills") are from line 14, and the "sea" and "sky" showed up
way back in line 2. Earth, sea, and sky. The gang's all here.
 But this is the trippy, not very literal part of the poem, right? So let's think of this dog as
maybe representing something else. It could be a symbol of friendship, companionship,
art, and culture. Like the mysterious vanishing dog, these elements have ceased to
really be present in the speaker's life. They've vanished into the hills or the sea or the sky,
because he's so darn bored of it all. So the speaker is left all sad and alone in his boring,
boring boredom.
 But shouldn't being on his own, without the plethora of crap that makes him bored, make
our speaker happy? You don't just sit around pining to be back at four o'clock dinner with
your Canasta-playing Great-Granddad, do you?
 Well, here's the catch. Even though the dog is now gone, the motion of the dog, its very
liveliness—the "wag"—is still there. So the dog's spirit or essence or whatever you
wanna call it has gotten lodged in the speaker's memory. Thus, the wag represents the
 speaker's growing loneliness; he knows he's missing out on something by being so bored
by people, literature, and everything.
 The speaker knows all this great stuff has a lot of bright, shiny life in it. He just can't find
the chutzpah to enjoy what's going on around him. And since he knows he's not supposed
to talk about his boredom, either, he feels extra isolated in it. This speaker is starting to
sound a bit like someone who's suffering from a deep depression, don't you think? Not
that Mr. Berryman would know anything about that, eh?
 Also, it's a little bit funny to end this poem with the word, wag. The last line only has
three words, and the final two, "me, wag," are separated from the first word by a colon.
So the "me" and the "wag" are stuck together.
 This juxtaposition between the "me"and the "wag" really drives home the point that the
speaker is just as insignificant as all the boring stuff he trashes throughout the poem. This
speaker, including all of his actions and thoughts and dreams and desires, is just simple
and involuntary, like the wag of a dog's tail. This final line shows us a little more of that
Berryman humor—that kind of humor where you're not quite sure if you're amused or
just plain confused.
 By the end of this poem, we see that Henry isn't actually bored with the world, he's bored
by his reaction to it. The crux is that Henry is bored of himself. Which we think is a pretty
rough fate indeed.
 Poem Analysis
 This poet was told as young boy that if you are bored, you have no inner resources
because they are so many wonders in the world. He then confesses that he must not have
any, because he is bored with life. Having no inner resources, however, isn't why he is
bored. He is tired of pretentious people who only talk about art or literature. Berryman
states,"Peoples bore me, literature bores me, especially great literature, Henry bores me,
with his plights & gripes as bad as achilles, who loves people and valiant art, which bores
me". He can no longer see the aesthetic in nature and scenery. He expresses,"And the
tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag". Even animals seem to just blend in with the
landscape and disappears. He says," And somehow a dog has taken itself & its tail
considerably away into mountains or sea or sky". He is exasperated with everyday life
because it has become mundane. It is inevitable to stay entertained with people who talk
about the same thing all the time or seeing the same pretty sights.

 Literary Devices Analysis

 This basic poem contains two literary devices. Personification is used in the first stanza.
Berryman gives the sky the ability to flash and the sea the ability to yearn. To find the
second device I had to do some research. The second device is Allusion. When he refers
to Achilles he is directly making a reference to the greatest Greek warrior in the Trojan
War and hero of Homer's Iliad.

 Form and Meter
 Reading "Dream Song 14" for the first time, you might have had moments where you
thought there was some kind of form or pattern at work—and then the feeling faded and
you were left with an invisi...


 Speaker
 When you read "Dream Song 14," you might think these lines sound more like a
conversation with a friend who's griping about being bored than a poem. Like, it gets a
little poem-y at the end with th...


 Setting
 We don't get much of a sense of place from "Dream Song 14." For the first two stanzas,
the speaker is just talking to us. He mentions the sky and the sea, but we don't necessarily
think those eleme...


 Sound Check
 Despite the title, "Dream Song 14" doesn't sound very song-like to us. It lacks a regular
rhyme scheme and alliteration, both of which can give poems a sing-song-y feel. But the
voice of the piece...


 What's Up With the Title?

 On the surface, "Dream Song 14" seems like a pretty simple little title. And, in some
sense, it is. But since we're all about digging deeper, let's break it down and see if we
can't uncover somethi...


 Calling Card
 Berryman poems, especially his "Dream Songs," are pretty easy to spot. Those six-line
stanzas we discussed back in the Form section tend to stand out. And that Henry guy,
who loves to refer to hims...


 Tough-o-Meter
 "Dream Song 14" is a pretty pleasant hike for the first two stanzas, but the air starts to get
a little thin in the third. Watch out for light-headedness and perhaps a mild headache; this
one's no...


 Trivia
 Berryman Rocks: well, at least he inspired the band Hold Steady to rock. Be sure to scroll
to the bottom of the page to check out a live performance of the song "Stuck Between
Stations." See if you...


 Steaminess Rating
 Despite the "flashing and yearning" in the first stanza, this one rates a G.


 Allusions
 Achilles (12)Check out Shmoop's mythology section for more about this nearly
invincible warrior's "plights and gripes."
