“Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!”

Oscar Wilde, a member of a wealthy class, was a man who found his place among the most successful poets of the young Victorian era in an original era. He is a poet who has succeeded in the history of his period with his life style, his shocking achievements and his poems in his literary life.

When it comes to telling him, things get messy, for every Wilde-loving person. While Oxford education is a writhing of pride that does not fall from the tongue, its sharp and sharply movements in its private life create a secret effect that is undetectable to the lips. He owns the lips that are tightly clented, and he’s the one who owns the praises of the limber tongues. When the situation takes such a shape, every literary enthusiast is involved in his poems and the flood of letters. They cannot stop stepping into his world, all the imagination travelers.

I’m going to talk more about the style of writing, in this article, that the pen between his fingers has created miracles on the paper with his divine manifestations. I want to talk about how much power and how surprising it is. His pen, which ripped off the smooth, lifeless skin of the paper, often becomes a chain of teased and rage that can bleed pages. Sometimes it’s just a touching, lean melody that breathed on this innocent piece of paper. That’s what binds the reader to him: his indisputable authenticity and the two-pronged style.

The clarity of his disconcerting courage and his thoughts in his rebellion gave a skeleton to the current of Esteticism: He stretched his hair, decorated his room with aesthetic concern, retaining the public opinion that doubts his mental health, he coloured his balcony with pink flowers. What made him so opposed to the thought of the age? What was the secretive and stubborn aspect of Wilde that caused the attack on River Cherwell, the deliberate attacks on his literary career, and the malignant slander of his private life?

Of course, the answer is nothing but love for art. His lack of fear of expressing aesthetic concerns stems from his indescribable and unwavering love for art, thus getting a bare explanation for all the riots that have been fueled by this affection. In the time when everyone opposed the idea of esteticism, he supported this current with an independent perception of time and space. “Nature imitates art,” he said, combining his true personality with this current. To him, aesthetics was everything, just like he thought he had a few life rags left to live for when he took the art out of his life.

The surprising point is that his pen, who watches in his love of art and aesthetics, also continues to be furious enough to agree to die with all this art. He was torn away from his rich and comfortable life at the end of his life; In prisons where mold and moisture were notorious, he consumed his life with desperation. Nevertheless, all these difficulties, the hateful weights loaded into the cube on his back, the effort to erase his history of literature by many authorities did not prevent him from moving to these days. Besides, he was able to be one of the most beloved, Oscar Wilde.

If we come to his poems, everything described above is living in his poems in a bloody vivid way. Analyzing his poems is nothing more than analyzing his character. He finds peace in the lines of a life destiny where the pen initiates all aspects. His poems are a content that defies truths more than confessions. The sarcastic tone in his needle style often initiates a vandalism movement, which, by destroying the pages and adding each letter to each other, removes the invitation for the cries of agony.

On Oscar Wilde’s aesthetic and artistic tomb designed by Sir Jacop Epstein, there are male angel statues. You should visit these statues that are made of tin and bronze mixture and have a rich soul. Even though his death has caused many debates, this man who made up the title of dozens of articles and has pressed all kinds of emotion like a seal and  reminds me that death is more painful than dying with a sword coup,  still affects us with his words: “The dreamer is the man who finds his way in the moonlight. The punishment is to see the dawn before anyone else. ”
Who knows, maybe he saw that dawn before all of us, and maybe that’s why he turned into a man who couldn’t get off the stage of history, by defeating the destructive power of time.