The Anaphora: A Gateway to Deeper Meaning in Poetry
The anaphora is one of the most powerful and timeless poetic devices. I’ve found that almost all the poems I write are influenced by it in some way. The anaphora is of foundational importance to the essence of poetry itself, as it has been employed in religious and meditative poetry—some of the earliest recorded forms of verse. The repetition of sounds, such as playful alliteration and subtle assonance, has a soothing, yet enlivening effect. It feels natural, almost like an instinct we’re born with. These rhythms remind us of our early days, perhaps when we were rocked to sleep in the warmth of a loving embrace. The power of sound is deeply rooted in sensation, stirring memories of comfort, security, and deep emotional resonance.
Repetition in poetry is not merely a stylistic choice but an incantation, a centering and grounding force that rouses us to a deeper awareness. It’s an experience that taps into a primal part of our being, one that brings us back to the heart of existence, inviting us to feel our lives with all vibrant intensity.
The Power of Repetition in Whitman’s Work
Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass, particularly the Song of Myself, is rich in this kind of repetition. Whitman also employs epistrophe, the counterpart to anaphora. Whereas anaphora repeats the beginning words of a line, epistrophe repeats the ending words. Here is one of Whitman’s iconic passages:
“I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the
beginning and the end
But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.
There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.”
(Song of Myself III, 1-6)
Whitman’s epistrophe is a rhythmic call to presence, echoing the timeless truth that the eternal now is the moment where all existence converges. He reminds us that the present moment is full of the weight of both past and future. Whitman’s genius lies in his ability to transform abstract concepts into visceral feelings, capturing an essence that transcends language and touches on something primal and true. His words resonate because they honor the timeless emotional truths that existed before we ever had words for them.
Time, Repetition, and Transformation in Eliot’s Poetry
In T.S. Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, we see a similar exploration of time. Here, Eliot also uses time as a theme, but with a more somber tone than Whitman’s. Eliot’s world is one where time is both a gift and a burden. The repetition in his work speaks to the cyclical nature of life—one in which moments of indecision, visions, and revisions repeat endlessly, urging us to sit with the rhythm of existence, as Whitman does in his expansive awareness.
“And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.”
(Prufrock, 23-34)
Eliot’s use of repetition evokes a sense of generosity in time—but not in the way we often think of time. Time here is not the modern monster that weighs heavily upon us but is instead a more contemplative, almost sorrowful reminder of mortality. His anaphoric repetition shows us that there is time to reflect, to revisit old decisions, and to sit in stillness with our grief and beauty. This sits in contrast to the frantic pace of modern life, offering us a moment of reflection and stillness.
The Healing Nature of Anaphora
Through the use of anaphora and epistrophe, both Whitman and Eliot convey powerful messages about the human condition. Their repetitions create a sense of continuity, connection, and presence. When life feels fragmented, when time is speeding past, these forms of repetition call us back to the essence of our existence. They remind us to slow down, to pause, to take in the world’s beauty, and to notice the cyclical nature of our experiences.
The anaphora in poetry, like the anaphora in life, is a return to center—a reminder that we are part of something larger than ourselves, something enduring. It brings us back to what matters most: the now. It is in this present moment, full of repetition and rhythm, that we find not just beauty but meaning, purpose, and a deeper connection to the world around us.
Conclusion
Excitingly, the anaphora and its powerful ability to repeat, to call us back to the present, is something we can all benefit from. Whether it’s through poetry or through the moments of our daily lives, repetition—whether conscious or unconscious—can help ground us in the beauty of the present, giving us the space to feel, to heal, and to reflect. Let us remember Whitman’s insistence on the eternal now, and Eliot’s meditation on the time we have, and carry them with us as we continue on our own journeys.
