I honestly am completely in the dark when it comes to experimental poetry. A part of my problem, if you will, is that when I think of poetry, I think of some deep and meaningful piece of work that's elegant and refined. I think of classical poetry like Shakespeare and I feel all other poetry is 'new age.' The poetry we have been reading in class has shown how right and wrong I am. I believe I'm not the only one either. Discussing the poems in class, we all had certain views and beliefs about poetry that showed in our interpretations and critiques. Modern poetry and experimental poetry have 'purists' raving mad and many people don't like it or accept it as such. It's new, it's special, it's just plain different. I am in the middle, not liking it but am open to learning about it. As we went into further details and dissecting just the text itself, it became clearer to me how unique and exciting experimental poetry is. They break the set barriers of what many believe poetry to be, which ignites many discussions on if they should be allowed to do so. This difference is the key problem for many people, including myself. Anything different is going to spark debate and also anger a few people. The cutting and pasting of other people's work, the word for word radio dialogue turned into a book of poetry...many of us believe these things not to be poetry. But what really is poetry? Even our guest speaker had a hard time defining what poetry truly is. With that, how can one consider experimental poetry or any other unique form to be 'lesser' or even not poetry at all? I am the least likely person to say if something is poetry or not or if experimental poetry is lesser or better. But I will say it's the difference and uniqueness that holds me back from fully embracing it at the beginning compared to other forms of poetry.
Jae Khoury
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
xxxperimental "greater" or the "lesser"...
If you are writing outside of traditional conventions of poetic expression, in terms of either content or structure, then your poetry is by definition experimental.
The “lesser” is an imaginative method to capture the audience using sound and rhythm as to create an emotional response through the medium of words either written or spoken. Rhyming is by no means a necessity however it is required to invoke certain emotions. The “greater” (experimental) poetry can be acted or displayed in picture form. In comparison to the “lesser” this form usually has no restrictions whatsoever. By restricting poetry to me can stifle the creative process.
This is exactly why I asked our guest speaker during his lecture on why one of the poems we read in class was given the title "absurd". The connotation of that word reminds me of a word I hate and that is “normal”. Just because something does not fit in what is socially accepted today does not make it abnormal or “absurd”. Everyday someone discovers something new or create a new and undiscovered genre.
In conclusion, I think that all forms of poetry are necessary. I personally prefer to take risk, and travel places undiscovered.
Craig Fontenot
The “lesser” is an imaginative method to capture the audience using sound and rhythm as to create an emotional response through the medium of words either written or spoken. Rhyming is by no means a necessity however it is required to invoke certain emotions. The “greater” (experimental) poetry can be acted or displayed in picture form. In comparison to the “lesser” this form usually has no restrictions whatsoever. By restricting poetry to me can stifle the creative process.
This is exactly why I asked our guest speaker during his lecture on why one of the poems we read in class was given the title "absurd". The connotation of that word reminds me of a word I hate and that is “normal”. Just because something does not fit in what is socially accepted today does not make it abnormal or “absurd”. Everyday someone discovers something new or create a new and undiscovered genre.
In conclusion, I think that all forms of poetry are necessary. I personally prefer to take risk, and travel places undiscovered.
Craig Fontenot
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Like it or Respect it?
When introduced to the medium of poetry as a child I couldn’t stand it, I had thought I made peace with poetry a few years ago. Even a mild sort of liking…
Well, our peace settlement has met a giant loophole in the form of experimental poetry. I can’t stand this form of poetry.
Yes, I think it qualifies as art, perhaps the abstract expressionism of the literary realm. While A child throwing paint on a canvas or streaking it with fingers and a child writing what he hears on the radio wouldn’t be considered art. We dismiss acts such as these as children being children, doodling and wasting time.
However, when an adult brings a canvas full of these streaks of paint to a gallery it’s considered art. And, when an author writes a piece of words that seem repetitive rather than sending him to time out this poem gets published.
I don’t think that I’m the type of person that can write experimental poetry. Yes, I could throw words together in an attempt to imitate the art, but would I be able to show the thought and precision that makes the absurd art?
Being an artist, no matter the medium, calls for one to recognize the beauty in the work of other’s as well as one’s self. So what if I’m not the experimental poetry type? I’ll tell myself the same thing as I did when studying traditional poetry “You don’t have to like it to respect it.”
Well, what is the difference between the work of a child and that of an artist? Thought, precision, and choice. There must be some kind of idea behind the work that one releases, right? Whether to mock society’s obliviousness or to show the wonder of a painting sans picture there is usually an idea or inspiration behind the work.
Why do adults get to call something art when preschoolers have something that barely qualifies for the refrigerator?
'sperimental Poetry
The concept that experimental poetry isn't "real" poetry crosses a dangerous line in attempting to define an extraordinarily broad form of art. Why would poetry that bends the rules of its own form be criticized as not being authentic art? For that matter, what about experimental prose? New forms of music or painting? As much as we like to make fun of less enjoyable, excessively pretentious "experimental" media, those same forms of progressive art serve the purpose of furthering the potential of the art form, whether it be prose, poetry, or something completely different. It may not always work or flow well, but poetry that manages to be successful, enjoyable, and meaningful while pushing the limits of the form further it as a result. The format of a sonnet for example exists for a reason: because it works and is very eminently easy to understand and read, making a work that bends the rules of that normally strict form while still being able to associate with it even more impressive. No one is going to be able to create something truly innovative and new by playing it safe. Experimental poetry has its own important role to play, just as the conventional form does.
-Tomas F.
experimental poetry- Ashley
I really don't like poetry and because I really don't like poetry I also don't like experimental poetry. I have a hard time understanding "regular" poetry and when I can understand it I am excited. Reading published experimental poetry sometimes makes me very frustrated, sometimes I understand it and other times I am shocked that it is actually considered poetry. I often feel like, this is ridiculous, I could have written this. For example Gertrude Stein's Longer "she stayed away longer." I mean really this is poetry? In my head I'm going how is this poetry I could have easily written that. Also Charles Bernstein "Morality" really how difficult was that. In class I thought it was ridiculous the poet who wrote down word for word the traffic, weather, and baseball game. I think experimental poetry is more fun to write verses a sonnet or more complex forms of poems but when I see that this person got published doing this I think its stupid.
Experimental Exsherimental
Is it art or porn? Is this music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HHKO3Cnh8Zg ? Is it more sureal or impressionist? We will always label and categorize for simplicity, ease of understanding, and organizing. How important is the label we place on things versus the substance they contain? In class last week, I felt we talked a lot about what was or wasn't a sonnet or poem, where it fit in, or how important it was to a particular movement. In the end, I felt we didn't really dive into how the poems made us feel or if they had any effect on us at all. I feel like those who call experimental poetry "lesser" poetry are made uncomfortable by something they can't understand. They can rely on past experience to point and nitpick why unconventional forms don't fit the criteria for past "great" poetry. To them poetry has been explained and defined already, and they've established schemas and thoughts allowing them to appreciate only poems that echoed classics rather than ones with an entirely different point of origin.
The argument of what is or isn't has already become obsolete in my opinion. We are exposed to so many conflicting thoughts, sounds, and ideas in our lifetime we have become more than familiar with ambiguity and unconventional thought. Some people will find experimental forms revolting and some will enjoy them. Art or poetry that obsesses over this war of definition is the only thing I personally find "inferior" as it seeks to shatter boundaries and mental models that were broken long ago or never really existed save for in the minds of some academics or critics. I am much more interested in reading or experiencing something new and interesting than listening to an artist complain about how the masses interpret his or her work. The concept that nothing new or original can be made is a prison we construct for ourselves out of fear of challenging what we have become reliant on. There's plenty left to discover.
-Brian Walker
The argument of what is or isn't has already become obsolete in my opinion. We are exposed to so many conflicting thoughts, sounds, and ideas in our lifetime we have become more than familiar with ambiguity and unconventional thought. Some people will find experimental forms revolting and some will enjoy them. Art or poetry that obsesses over this war of definition is the only thing I personally find "inferior" as it seeks to shatter boundaries and mental models that were broken long ago or never really existed save for in the minds of some academics or critics. I am much more interested in reading or experiencing something new and interesting than listening to an artist complain about how the masses interpret his or her work. The concept that nothing new or original can be made is a prison we construct for ourselves out of fear of challenging what we have become reliant on. There's plenty left to discover.
-Brian Walker
Experimental Poetry?
I must admit my introduction to experimental poetry last week left me with raised eyebrows and a bit of confusion. I am used to Shakespeare and Browning, that’s the poetry I grew up on and what I am more familiar with. After reading a few of the experimental pieces my mind did, however start to expand. I realized that poetry does not have to be confined to one small and limited box that I had kept it in all these years. There are worlds of avenues to explore and the opportunities are endless. What I found most interesting is that poetry can be anything you put on paper, if you define it to be so.
I don’t consider experimental poetry to be a “lesser” form just a form that may confuse some individuals who (like me) are convinced that poetry should be written one particular way to be considered authentic and worthy to be referred to as poetry.
In order for the experimental stuff to grow on me, I guess it’s a matter of reading more of it and getting used to it, also familiarizing myself with the different poets who dabble or even specialize in this area. Then I can re-train my mind to accept these works as true poetry and be able to appreciate it as much as I do any other poetry I’ve read.
Cindy Davis
I don’t consider experimental poetry to be a “lesser” form just a form that may confuse some individuals who (like me) are convinced that poetry should be written one particular way to be considered authentic and worthy to be referred to as poetry.
In order for the experimental stuff to grow on me, I guess it’s a matter of reading more of it and getting used to it, also familiarizing myself with the different poets who dabble or even specialize in this area. Then I can re-train my mind to accept these works as true poetry and be able to appreciate it as much as I do any other poetry I’ve read.
Cindy Davis
Experimental Poetry
Poetry is not merely words on a page or a collection of stanzas. They aren’t just words that can rhyme or metaphors. The meaning of a poem is as important to the poet as much as it is important to the reader. Poetry is not simply a piece of knowledge or wisdom or philosophy but also a cathartic means for which the poet can express him or herself. I feel that poetry is a part of its creator, an additional limb or heart.
If poetry is as enjoyable to the poet as it is to the reader than I believe the poet has the freedom to make the poem reflect the emotions, thoughts, and philosophy of the poet. Not always can we as people convey ideas and experiences in someone else’s structure. If poetry is art, the artist has the right to do whatever they feel is necessary to make that piece of art beautiful to experience catharsis and to share that with the world. What may be art can vary from viewer to viewer and from artist to artist and it is also their right to their own opinion. What may invoke emotion may be different from person to person but that doesn’t lessen the piece of art.
Experimental poetry, despite what some may say, is an art form. It is an art form for different poets as well as different readers, and it invokes emotion just like other poetry but in different ways. That doesn’t make it a lesser kind of poetry. Perhaps for some critics it may not make some cry or others happy, but is it fair to say this is the case for everyone? Can a handful of critics speak for all readers of poetry? What these poets have to convey is just as profound as a piece from Shakespeare. There are different words and different structures but these are what separate these poets from others and also what makes them true artists.
Samantha Audet
Monday, October 25, 2010
Different poetry
I personally believe that every poet should have the option of writing a poem however he or she wants to write a poem. The good thing about poetry is that each poet has his own unique style of writing a poem. Even if a group of poets were given the same topic of a poem to write about the would each come up with a different poem, unlike if they were given a specific topic for a story there might be similarities. A poem is in most cases based on personally experience or a close friends personal experience and however the poet wants to get that point across is the way the reader will interpret it.
I think the definition of poetry is however the person writing the poem determines to describe the story they are telling. As a reader, and a person on the outside looking in we cannot tell a person which style to write their story so we have to respect the way they write it and go with their flow. If a person only feels comfortable writing in experimental form, as we readers we should not take them out of their comfort zone. It is difficult coming out of our comfort zone regardless of the circumstances.
In conclusion, I really do not think there is a "lesser" form to writing poetry. There might be a poet who uses elementary language when writing a poem but if that language is what works for that poem than so be it. Sometimes it might be necessary to use words appropriate for young children in regards to our poetry instead of words for a person with a Master's degree. I do sometimes believe that a poet might want to speak in a more mature way for older audiences, but I cannot argue with the way a person choices to write his poems and the diction or ideas he decides to use in them.
Jaaziah
Is this Real?
Is experimental poetry considered lesser poetry or not?
Poetry is poetry. There's prose written in different styles, but that doesn't make it any less prose than other works of prose.
Experimental poetry may be strange, and it may not be as openly appreciated as "classic poetry", like Robert Frost, but it is not lesser than the works of Billy Collins or E.E. Cummings. Experimental poetry is not what most people consider "normal poetry", because it is nothing like what most people think poetry is: strictly structured, rhyming, and hard to understand.
Experimental prose is more well received than experimental poetry. In fact, experimental prose, or different prose, is usually expected from authors; novels should have different, distinct voices.
But poetry is expected to be the same. No one expects poetry to have a distinct voice. No one expects poetry to be open about its meaning.
It's strange how we have preconceived notions of what poetry should be, and yet we are open to any idea of what prose can be. Experimental poetry should be received with open arms, and yet we are unwilling to consider it poetry.
If it's not poetry, then what is it?
Poetry is poetry. There's prose written in different styles, but that doesn't make it any less prose than other works of prose.
Experimental poetry may be strange, and it may not be as openly appreciated as "classic poetry", like Robert Frost, but it is not lesser than the works of Billy Collins or E.E. Cummings. Experimental poetry is not what most people consider "normal poetry", because it is nothing like what most people think poetry is: strictly structured, rhyming, and hard to understand.
Experimental prose is more well received than experimental poetry. In fact, experimental prose, or different prose, is usually expected from authors; novels should have different, distinct voices.
But poetry is expected to be the same. No one expects poetry to have a distinct voice. No one expects poetry to be open about its meaning.
It's strange how we have preconceived notions of what poetry should be, and yet we are open to any idea of what prose can be. Experimental poetry should be received with open arms, and yet we are unwilling to consider it poetry.
If it's not poetry, then what is it?
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Seeing Thoughts
Moments through our life, that you become aware
Of your own self,
Actions, thoughts and emotions too,
Affect your mind, and your heart…
And I, want to apologize,
You’re here for a reason,
And I, need to grow, need to learn,
Spread my leaves into the sun,
Impossible Obstacles,
Confusion, Complication,
Impossible Obstacles,
Confusion, Frustration,
Moments through your life, that you become aware,
Of your own self,
Actions, thoughts and emotions too,
Affect your mind and your heart,
And I, don’t know if want to apologize,
Are you for a reason? Are you here for a reason?
But, I, need to grow, need to learn,
Shed my skin, turn, let go and run run run
Impossible Obstacles,
Confusion, Complication,
Impossible Obstacles,
Confusion, Frustration,
You are my catalyst,
You are my catalyst,
Red flags everywhere,
Even blind people turn and stare,
Don’t go there, Don’t go there,
I know I shouldn’t care,
But my heart fills the air,
I’ve been there, I’ve been there,
Craig Fontenot
Of your own self,
Actions, thoughts and emotions too,
Affect your mind, and your heart…
And I, want to apologize,
You’re here for a reason,
And I, need to grow, need to learn,
Spread my leaves into the sun,
Impossible Obstacles,
Confusion, Complication,
Impossible Obstacles,
Confusion, Frustration,
Moments through your life, that you become aware,
Of your own self,
Actions, thoughts and emotions too,
Affect your mind and your heart,
And I, don’t know if want to apologize,
Are you for a reason? Are you here for a reason?
But, I, need to grow, need to learn,
Shed my skin, turn, let go and run run run
Impossible Obstacles,
Confusion, Complication,
Impossible Obstacles,
Confusion, Frustration,
You are my catalyst,
You are my catalyst,
Red flags everywhere,
Even blind people turn and stare,
Don’t go there, Don’t go there,
I know I shouldn’t care,
But my heart fills the air,
I’ve been there, I’ve been there,
Craig Fontenot
Message in a bottle: can someone help a brother out
Hey there,
I really need someone to please catch me up with class, my wonderful @gmu.edu email account is frozen, and I can't even get a hold of Jessica (professor Jessica, that is) I appologize for this format of communication but its only way I figure out I can still get a hold of somebody. IF someone can please email me: gayosocesar@hotmail.com with assigment/project due tomorrow: what kind of poem are we suppossed to bring to class...how many copies (for everyone?) I will make up with starbucks gift card to whoever can assist me first, not a bribe, is it?.... gracias.
I really need someone to please catch me up with class, my wonderful @gmu.edu email account is frozen, and I can't even get a hold of Jessica (professor Jessica, that is) I appologize for this format of communication but its only way I figure out I can still get a hold of somebody. IF someone can please email me: gayosocesar@hotmail.com with assigment/project due tomorrow: what kind of poem are we suppossed to bring to class...how many copies (for everyone?) I will make up with starbucks gift card to whoever can assist me first, not a bribe, is it?.... gracias.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Winter Season
As the weather changes and the days shorten, we all have many different things that we look forward to. For some it is the many holidays that are vastly approaching us such as, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or New Years. For me as much as I love many of these holidays too, I love this time of year for another reason. I do not get to enjoy these holidays as much as I want like most people do, but I still enjoy this time of year. It is because it is the beginning of wrestling season and when the NFL season starts to get interesting, when teams start fighting harder for playoff spots.
As I mentioned early, I do not get to enjoy these holidays so much and that is because I am busy working out during this time and making sure that I do not go above the specific weight class that I can wrestle. So for example, while people are stuffing their faces with the mother, aunt or grandmothers favorite mouthwatering dish, I am not. Because I have a specific weight class that I cannot go above I have to be careful especially over thanksgiving and christmas about the particular foods I eat because I cannot gain more weigh than would allow me to wrestle my weight class. For example, this year I have practice on thanksgiving day and a tournament two days later which will not allow me to return home and enjoy thanksgiving with my family. However, I still enjoy wrestling it is a family tradition and I sport I love to do competitively.
I also spoke about the NFL season. Towards the end of December teams are playing for division titles or wild card berths which decides on which teams make it to the playoffs so teams come up with many different strategies and play more competitively during this time. My favorite team in the NFL is the Philadelphia Eagles and this year we are playing fairly well although we have been setback by injuries to some of our key players. I believe that when some of our players return we can finish off with a strong season, which I am excited for. My team is currently tied for first place in our Division with the New York Giants and in the conference with three other teams. During the offseason we traded our star quarterback in Donovan McNabb and many people doubted that we would contend this year, but so far we are proving many people wrong and I hope it continues.
~Jaaziah Bethea~
A Pariah
I’ve been in an interracial relationship for a little over a year now, and I think it is one of the hardest things I have ever done. Most of the time, we become a spectacle and sometimes, a sort of pariah. You would think in America some of this would be commonplace, that there wouldn’t be that much objection, but only when I put myself in this position did I really begin to understand: there will never be an end to the staring, the discouraging looks, and the oh-so-discreet point of finger or look over shoulder that seems to say “that’s not right. That’s abnormal.”
Honestly, that’s not the part that really bothers me, because if it did, I would have bailed long ago. Strangers have no part in your personal life and they come and go with cursory glances and a mental tally. I just write them off and add one more tic to my tally. No, what really drags me down is not the strangers who give me dirty looks but rather the parents I have yet to meet. He’s met mine but I have yet to meet his. He’s told me what they think, that they hate the very idea of me. They hate what I am, not who. I am a white girl. He is a Korean guy. I can’t speak Korean. I am a foreigner. Hah. That’s funny: a foreigner in my own country – the country to which his family immigrated. I’m a Catholic. He’s the son of a Presbyterian pastor. They say get rid of her. She won’t do. Find a Korean girl. It’s a phase. She’s Catholic: they’re not real Christians.Think of your family. It’s not fair to us, they say.
Right: I’m a terrible person because of the color of my skin.
Right now, they pretend I don’t exist. They hope I will go away or that sooner or later he will break it off. I don’t know what to expect this year. Maybe it will be more of the same. I never thought I would be the victim of racial discrimination, but if you’ve ever been in an interracial relationship, I think you’ll understand what it’s like. Sometimes I wish I could write his parents off on my little mental tally, but that would be selfish, and I'd rather not be like them.
-Samantha Markey
Writing Media, what's your pick?
Poetry, prose, and non-fiction are the three areas in which we place writing.
What medium do you prefer?
When I was younger fiction was the only genre I would approach; I would dismiss the other two categories saying “poetry was weird” and “non-fiction was boring.” When you’re a young child in elementary school the fragmentation found in poetry isn’t as easy to follow as a piece of fiction in which an active imagination takes over. And, the only non-fiction that I remember my elementary school library stocking were autobiographies, encyclopedias, and the cart full of books used for reports.
Though my appreciation for poetry and non-fiction grew over time and study, I was closed off to the idea of writing any pieces in either category. It wasn’t until I was forced to write poems and narratives in classes that things began to click. Theoretical comprehension and appreciation of non-fiction was much easier, I had to get away from the mindset that non-fiction is equal to reports and autobiographies. Poetry, though, was bit more difficult—it has a different structure than prose and non-fiction usually have.
We’re currently studying poetry in class, and the best advice I can give shares the tone of an afternoon special: read lots of poetry, analyze poetry, and write lots of poetry. By the time a few weeks have passed your opinion on poetry will have changed. I ended up gaining a slight liking for poetry and not minding having to read or write poems. Sure, you could go off into the other end and not want to look at a poem again, but it’s better to criticize something if you’re knowledgeable about the object.
Best of luck, I hope our trip through the next two media help to further your appreciation rather than cause a desire to tear pages.
Back to school night
So as many of you already know I teach preschool and tonight was our back to school night. So I have already worked a full day and now I am required to stay an extra two hours to talk to parents about how wonderful their children are, but the truth is they are so wonderful. I really love all of my kids, they all have their own personalities and are so much fun to be around. It is the parents that stress me out and annoy me. What is it about becoming a parent that makes a what would appear normal person crazy. They obsess over every little thing that normally wouldn't be a big deal. For example "do you heat up my daughters pasta?", me "yes", her "well not for too long right I don't want the plastic to make it so hot." In my head I'm going I'm not an idiot I know how to heat up pasta for a two year old. But can I tell that to her? No, I have to smile and nod and say of course not. Seriously, people think that preschool teachers are idiots. Yes I may not be the smartest but I know how to work with children and I know how to get them to behave, you cant say that about many parents who do have these high salary jobs. I guess I'll have to have kids to understand and eventually become a crazy obsessive parent of a person. But I surely hope I wont.
Ashley
Ashley
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Had it not been for this class I probably wouldn't have happened upon "How do I love thee?" Such a timeless piece it's almost criminal that I hadn't thought about it and often. I remember when I first read it (I fashioned myself to be a poet when I was younger), I thought it was the most beautiful piece I had ever read. It had more meaning after I had learned what she had endured in life, it sort of plays into whether you read poetry as fiction or non, I definitely read it as non-fiction since I know this was written during her and her future husband's courtship. You could actually "feel" the affection and fondness woven into the words from every line. I could imagine her sitting down and musing about her immeasurable love and the ending....."and if God choose, I shall but love thee after death." It gets no better than that!
Cindy Davis
Cindy Davis
Fish and Tiffanys
It’s a Tuesday. It’s a Tuesday evening. It’s a Tuesday evening and I’m sitting in my statistics class listening to a man talk about the same stuff that my 12th grade psychology teacher talked about. My head hurts, my body is exhausted and I have three assignments for studio fundamentals due tomorrow. Better yet they involve construction paper. Though this sounds more like a rant than any type of philosophical discussion of Shakespeare or William Henry Blake but sometimes-real life is more beneficial.
I bought this movie called “Mega-Shark vs. Giant Octopus,” last weekend. Scratch that it was the weekend before last. It was in a huge pile of DVDs for $5 at Walmart. I bought a copy of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” as well. Funny enough I was with a guy friend so, when we went up to the register our choice of movies was stereotypically “his and hers” like. Little to be known they were both mine, mwahahaha. Sadly enough I’ve been so busy with construction paper pictures, and 36” x 48” drawing midterms that I haven’t been able to watch this excellent example of Hollywood filmography. I’ve been deprived this week, I know.
The funny part about buying this ungodly terrible film was truly the fact that earlier that week I had expressed to my friend that I absolutely needed one of those terrible Scifi movie monstrosities. Low and behold the epitome of such films just happened to be in a giant bucket at Walmart, and though “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” is a better quality film sometimes I get tired of watching the cultured films with the famous actors like Jimmy Stewart and Robin Williams. Sometimes I don’t want to sit in statistics and listen to my professor talk about case studies. Sometimes I just want a nap.
Samantha Audet
Tattoos
I love tattoo’s. All of my guy friends have them. All of the women I’ve dated have had them. I have them. They’re an interesting way to express yourself, and I also think they let other people know what kind of person you are. A hockey friend of mine is covered in tattoo’s, and if you saw him from far away, you’d think he was a rough guy. Up close, you notice what his tattoo’s are, Daffy Duck, Tom Waits, a portrait of Groucho Marx. He’s one of the nicest and funniest guys I know, in fact, he’s a goddamn wimp when we play hockey. But he proves a point, we (society) use tattoo’s to personify our bodies. I am always excited to see a new sleeve or hear about someone getting their first ink. That is, unless that tattoo is ridiculously generic, poorly done, or incredibly tiny.
I’m not a tattoo snob or elitist. I think anyone who wants ink should get it, but for the love of Christ sit on it for a while. Ask some people if your idea is a good one. Ask the artist what he thinks. If you pick something from the wall, it just seems like you like the idea of getting it done more than you want the actual image. Just think it through, I’ve seen too many generic butterflies, tribals, tramp stamps, ho handles, skulls, chains, anything you can picture a drunk person saying, “that’s what I want.” Every person I meet who has these on their bodies regrets it. Just think it through, which brings me to another point.
If you want a funny tattoo, make damn sure you’re going to laugh every time you see it. Prime example, I drew a tattoo for my friend rich, and he got it done. It is a picture of fat Marlon Brando eating skinny Marlon Brando in a hot dog bun. I laugh every time I see it. On the other hand, I have a friend that has a tattoo of Bart Simpson peeing into his belly button. It was funny once, now I think he dies a little every time he takes his shirt off in front of people.
Just think it through.
D. Ryan
Fiction/Nonfiction?
At the beginning of class last Thursday, we reflected on and discussed the question of whether we tend to read poetry as fiction or nonfiction and how either reading affected the interpretation/meaning of the poem. Personally, I tend to read poetry as nonfiction. I'm not sure why, but I think doing so makes the poem more alive in my mind.
I wanted to discuss this question further and ask whether or not you think reading poetry as fiction/nonfiction makes a difference in how you interpret poems' meanings, and why or why not?
It's challenging to change the way you've been doing things, and if I were to be challenged to start reading poetry as fiction, I think I'll have a difficult time doing so. However, while we work on poetry in this class, I think it could be beneficial to try to read poetry in a different light.
Thoughts/opinions?
-Jackie
I wanted to discuss this question further and ask whether or not you think reading poetry as fiction/nonfiction makes a difference in how you interpret poems' meanings, and why or why not?
It's challenging to change the way you've been doing things, and if I were to be challenged to start reading poetry as fiction, I think I'll have a difficult time doing so. However, while we work on poetry in this class, I think it could be beneficial to try to read poetry in a different light.
Thoughts/opinions?
-Jackie
Monday, October 18, 2010
Neil Perry
I always wonder whether this is what I am. I feel so unsure of myself and so self-deprecating; this doesn't feel like a safe place, but this is what I know.
I remember walking around during sunset, watching the sky burn as my neighbors' yards smelled of coal and charred meat, I thought about what I needed. I often stared at my feet as I walked by men walking their dogs, women jogging past. They seemed so satisfied with their mediocre lives in suburbia, but I never felt complete here. College was supposed to be the answer to my prayers; college was supposed to be the Grand Escape. But college was just another mediocre part of life that was no longer about the name branded inside the graduation booklet--this was another four years of learning about things I didn't care for.
I often wonder if college is even right for me. I always dreamed I would go to some art school where half the men were flamboyantly gay, and most of the student population thought doing drugs and art were synonymous. I thought I could finally do things my way; I no longer needed math or science or foreign language. I dreamed of living in New York City and listening to obscure indie music and drinking tea and reinventing myself.
Sometimes I wonder how much of a disappointment I would be if I didn't finish college; I feel so much pressure to destroy who I am in order to become something I can't be.
Neil Perry, you and I have so much in common; your father and my father wanted us to burn our dreams and to watch the ash float away as they handed us the tuition to become doctors. But you and I know what we were meant to do, except I will succeed. But I really wish you were real.
I really wish we could make this journey together.
I remember walking around during sunset, watching the sky burn as my neighbors' yards smelled of coal and charred meat, I thought about what I needed. I often stared at my feet as I walked by men walking their dogs, women jogging past. They seemed so satisfied with their mediocre lives in suburbia, but I never felt complete here. College was supposed to be the answer to my prayers; college was supposed to be the Grand Escape. But college was just another mediocre part of life that was no longer about the name branded inside the graduation booklet--this was another four years of learning about things I didn't care for.
I often wonder if college is even right for me. I always dreamed I would go to some art school where half the men were flamboyantly gay, and most of the student population thought doing drugs and art were synonymous. I thought I could finally do things my way; I no longer needed math or science or foreign language. I dreamed of living in New York City and listening to obscure indie music and drinking tea and reinventing myself.
Sometimes I wonder how much of a disappointment I would be if I didn't finish college; I feel so much pressure to destroy who I am in order to become something I can't be.
Neil Perry, you and I have so much in common; your father and my father wanted us to burn our dreams and to watch the ash float away as they handed us the tuition to become doctors. But you and I know what we were meant to do, except I will succeed. But I really wish you were real.
I really wish we could make this journey together.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
I thought and thought for awhile, and I realized I didn't really have much of an opinion on the poetry we've read thus far. I believe they are all good poems, but that goes without saying, we wouldn't be reading them if they were poor. After all, we can come up with those ourselves as easily as we choose.
Matthew Tillsman has a fantastic style that keeps you reading line after line... even if you don't want to or don't like what you are reading.
Do not forget that is the point of writing; not only to convey thought and meaning, but to make a connection from one word to the next, one sentence into a paragraph, and keep you reading.
In this he succeeds very aptly.
However, this post is not about Matthew Tillsman, it is actually about William Shakespeare.
And namely, my question is this; why is he considered one the greatest poets alive?
It is true he is certainly good, but is it because his poetry is ageless? Is it his syntax, or his structure? Just what is it that makes Shakespeare into the view we have of him today?
This question occurred to me when I realized that in every poetry class I have had his poetry has been present, at some point, somewhere in the class.
I question this, because is he mentioned because he is actually that good of a poet that he should be mentioned in every class (Hemingway, I think was better), or is it because it is culturally engrained?
Do the Chinese or Indians teach Shakespeare as avidly as we?
-Alex
Matthew Tillsman has a fantastic style that keeps you reading line after line... even if you don't want to or don't like what you are reading.
Do not forget that is the point of writing; not only to convey thought and meaning, but to make a connection from one word to the next, one sentence into a paragraph, and keep you reading.
In this he succeeds very aptly.
However, this post is not about Matthew Tillsman, it is actually about William Shakespeare.
And namely, my question is this; why is he considered one the greatest poets alive?
It is true he is certainly good, but is it because his poetry is ageless? Is it his syntax, or his structure? Just what is it that makes Shakespeare into the view we have of him today?
This question occurred to me when I realized that in every poetry class I have had his poetry has been present, at some point, somewhere in the class.
I question this, because is he mentioned because he is actually that good of a poet that he should be mentioned in every class (Hemingway, I think was better), or is it because it is culturally engrained?
Do the Chinese or Indians teach Shakespeare as avidly as we?
-Alex
Thursday, October 14, 2010
The Black Album
Before I read the poem, "The Black Album" my mind went straight to the Jay-Z cd which has this same title. But after reading the poem I began to make my own comparisions to the things in my own life that are black. But that was after turning on my Ipod to The Black Album itself and listening to the whole cd. I knew that Matthew Dickman's title was similar to the thoughts I had when he mentioned, "The more I listen to Jay-Z the more I'm reminded of Led Zeppelin." I like the line when he says, "And then there are the black keys Mr. Mozart bent into sound." This brought my mind to the many piano players such as Stevie Wonder, Scott Joplin, and Ray Charles. When mentions the moor my mind went to directly to "Othello" and how he was called moor because he was one of few black people amongst so many whites in that area during that period of time. I love the line, "I would take her to the mat like a wrestler." As a wrestler lines in story that actually relate to me, I like. So many times writers mention wrestlers in absolute wrong ways that do not imply to us. This specific line shows our strength and ability to handle ourselves in different situations, and I must say this is a great compliment to us. In this poem, Dickman does not stay on a specific topic although its called "The Black Album and it mentions many things that are black or imply black in either color or race. But the poem to me seems almost as if he was freestyling, where he came up with the title and then decided to write down things and ideas to related to the title.
~Jaaziah Bethea~
~Jaaziah Bethea~
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
.....just to say
I think it depends on the tone one uses to read the poem. The first time I read it, it naturally came out with a sarcastic tone. Like a teenager who comes in and rebellious tells their parents, "I ate the plums. Yea I know you buy them for your breakfast, but they were good and I wanted them. Sorry, sheesh." Not a genuine apology even though the words "forgive me" are listed because they immediately over shadow it with describing how good the plums were instead of showing the concern for the person they took them from.
Then I read it a second time, using a different tone in my head. Of a person who is saying, "Hey, I wanted to let you know I ate the plums in the freezer. I thought about it and you were probably saving them, and I'm sorry. It's just they were so tempting and good and so I ate them without stopping to think about you until after the fact". If the poem is read with an apologetic tone, I think it can come off that the speaker was sorry that he did it, and showing his lack of self-control and being accountable for it.
I like the poem because it can swing either way. It is multidimensional depending on how one reads it. Short, simple, and yet could really be interrupted a few different ways.
Craig Fontenot
Then I read it a second time, using a different tone in my head. Of a person who is saying, "Hey, I wanted to let you know I ate the plums in the freezer. I thought about it and you were probably saving them, and I'm sorry. It's just they were so tempting and good and so I ate them without stopping to think about you until after the fact". If the poem is read with an apologetic tone, I think it can come off that the speaker was sorry that he did it, and showing his lack of self-control and being accountable for it.
I like the poem because it can swing either way. It is multidimensional depending on how one reads it. Short, simple, and yet could really be interrupted a few different ways.
Craig Fontenot
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Sad Little Outlaw
I’ve read through a lot of the Dickman book. Most of what I have read can be summed up in “Sad Little Outlaw”. He is trying to make some sort of point about American soldiers relating to captured outlaws. However, I am absolutely lost as to what the point is supposed to arouse in the reader and what the relation between the two things are. I understand that poetry is supposed to be, well… poetic, but much of what I read in his poems seem to have nothing to do with what the poem is supposed to be about, whether I can figure that out or not is a completely different story.
I’m fine with being confused. With people acting the way they do, I’m confused regularly. What I do mind is that some of Dickman’s poems drive toward some sort of emphatic point, only to pull over to the side of the road and stall just before reaching the destination. This isn’t in a story telling kind of way. I guess the stories are told, but the emotion behind “Sad Little Outlaw” is confusing, and the goal of the poem is lost to me.
There is a part of the poem that actually angers me. Dickman uses the description of folding an American flag in an attempt to encourage an emotion from the viewer. And in doing so, he manages to lessen the visual and make it seem cheap. I don’t agree with using ideas that invoke an automatic emotional response as a way to manipulate the reader to a specific end that doesn’t appear to be related to the manipulated idea.
I don’t get most poetry, and maybe that is my downfall here. It isn’t that I’m above it, or impervious to its effects, most of it just doesn’t speak to me. And, in the case of “Sad Little Outlaw,” it actually kind of pisses me off.
D. Ryan
I’m fine with being confused. With people acting the way they do, I’m confused regularly. What I do mind is that some of Dickman’s poems drive toward some sort of emphatic point, only to pull over to the side of the road and stall just before reaching the destination. This isn’t in a story telling kind of way. I guess the stories are told, but the emotion behind “Sad Little Outlaw” is confusing, and the goal of the poem is lost to me.
There is a part of the poem that actually angers me. Dickman uses the description of folding an American flag in an attempt to encourage an emotion from the viewer. And in doing so, he manages to lessen the visual and make it seem cheap. I don’t agree with using ideas that invoke an automatic emotional response as a way to manipulate the reader to a specific end that doesn’t appear to be related to the manipulated idea.
I don’t get most poetry, and maybe that is my downfall here. It isn’t that I’m above it, or impervious to its effects, most of it just doesn’t speak to me. And, in the case of “Sad Little Outlaw,” it actually kind of pisses me off.
D. Ryan
Troubled by 'Trouble'
So, I'm going to try to avoid the long essay monster and limit myself to just a short diatribe.
I really, Really, REALLY do not like Matthew Dickman's poem 'Trouble'.
I knew I didn't like it from my first reading, but couldn't say why. After two subsequent readings, and a little research to confirm a few suspicions, I can now say that I dislike it both as a piece of poetry (in the sense of the mechanics of the piece) and as a poem (in the sense of the message it conveys).
With regard to the mechanics, I dislike it because of it's poor usage of free verse. I understand that rhyme and metre are to be ignored, but find the lack of metaphor, or even simile, well, let's just say that without these two, at the very least, a free verse poem really might as well just be a piece of prose -- lest we forget, poetry and song are intrinsically linked, both are meant to be sung.
As examples of what I mean, here's a link to a poem by Saul Williams:
http://lyrics.astraweb.com/display/930/saul_williams..amethyst_rock_star..coded_language.html
[a quick note: there is a transcription error, "...crushed apples and pears..." should read "...crushed apples and peers..."]
and a more well-known, almost cliché, example by Allen Ginsburg:
http://www.wussu.com/poems/agh.htm
Now, mechanics being addressed, let's get to the meat.
Dickman's device in 'Trouble' is to juxtapose a ramshackle list of suicides with the rambling thoughts of a mind that seems to be trying too hard to have depth, "I sometimes wonder about the inner lives of polar bears." The persons listed are actors and authors, poets and play-writes, even the odd philosopher, sovereign, and daredevil. Some attained greatness, others simply existed near it.
About halfway through the poem, he presents us with a detail that misleadingly suggests what the poem is all about:
[Fentanyl is a very strong narcotic painkiller] My brother opened
thirteen Fentanyl patches and stuck them on his body
until it wasn't his body anymore.
I'll come back to that in a moment, but first I want to mention the end of the poem; the place where Dickman really makes his point:
[Referring to Larry Walters, the daredevil from above.] He was a man who flew.
He shot himself in the heart. In the morning I get out of bed, I brush my teeth,
I wash my face, I get dressed in the clothes I like best.
I want to be good to myself.
Now, if we take this poem solely at surface value, it's message seems rather straight-forward, namely: All of these great/near-great people committed suicide, so I try to console myself by looking for the things that are good and beautiful in life and taking them for what they are. But that's NOT what he's saying.
His brother didn't kill himself! (and to his credit he never said otherwise, but he certainly implied it.) But if that is the case, then what is the point of the poem?
I think the point of the poem is this:
All of these people either knew or touched greatness, yet all of them chose to commit suicide. I can't understand this, because there are so many simple things to take pleasure in. We must look on the bright side and be good to ourselves.
And that's why I think this poem sucks, because Dickman dismisses everyone he mentions. Of course he does, he can't relate. He hasn't even suffered the experience of having a loved one take their own life (though he implies may have at least experienced dealing with the attempt, I couldn't find anything to suggest this was the case). His poem reeks of optimism.
Now, I know that many of us treat optimism as if it were the ultimate ideal, but I would like to point out that optimism and pessimism are two sides of the same delusion. Neither point of view is realistic, because both are dualistic. Reality is multiplicity. But I would also argue that out of the two the optimists are the worse, because they often lack empathy, much less self-awareness -- never seeming to grasp that, to someone who is suffering, "Look on the bright side..." might as well be, "I really can't be bothered with what you are going through right now."
At least the pessimists would commiserate.
-dennis
I really, Really, REALLY do not like Matthew Dickman's poem 'Trouble'.
I knew I didn't like it from my first reading, but couldn't say why. After two subsequent readings, and a little research to confirm a few suspicions, I can now say that I dislike it both as a piece of poetry (in the sense of the mechanics of the piece) and as a poem (in the sense of the message it conveys).
With regard to the mechanics, I dislike it because of it's poor usage of free verse. I understand that rhyme and metre are to be ignored, but find the lack of metaphor, or even simile, well, let's just say that without these two, at the very least, a free verse poem really might as well just be a piece of prose -- lest we forget, poetry and song are intrinsically linked, both are meant to be sung.
As examples of what I mean, here's a link to a poem by Saul Williams:
http://lyrics.astraweb.com/display/930/saul_williams..amethyst_rock_star..coded_language.html
[a quick note: there is a transcription error, "...crushed apples and pears..." should read "...crushed apples and peers..."]
and a more well-known, almost cliché, example by Allen Ginsburg:
http://www.wussu.com/poems/agh.htm
Now, mechanics being addressed, let's get to the meat.
Dickman's device in 'Trouble' is to juxtapose a ramshackle list of suicides with the rambling thoughts of a mind that seems to be trying too hard to have depth, "I sometimes wonder about the inner lives of polar bears." The persons listed are actors and authors, poets and play-writes, even the odd philosopher, sovereign, and daredevil. Some attained greatness, others simply existed near it.
About halfway through the poem, he presents us with a detail that misleadingly suggests what the poem is all about:
[Fentanyl is a very strong narcotic painkiller] My brother opened
thirteen Fentanyl patches and stuck them on his body
until it wasn't his body anymore.
I'll come back to that in a moment, but first I want to mention the end of the poem; the place where Dickman really makes his point:
[Referring to Larry Walters, the daredevil from above.] He was a man who flew.
He shot himself in the heart. In the morning I get out of bed, I brush my teeth,
I wash my face, I get dressed in the clothes I like best.
I want to be good to myself.
Now, if we take this poem solely at surface value, it's message seems rather straight-forward, namely: All of these great/near-great people committed suicide, so I try to console myself by looking for the things that are good and beautiful in life and taking them for what they are. But that's NOT what he's saying.
His brother didn't kill himself! (and to his credit he never said otherwise, but he certainly implied it.) But if that is the case, then what is the point of the poem?
I think the point of the poem is this:
All of these people either knew or touched greatness, yet all of them chose to commit suicide. I can't understand this, because there are so many simple things to take pleasure in. We must look on the bright side and be good to ourselves.
And that's why I think this poem sucks, because Dickman dismisses everyone he mentions. Of course he does, he can't relate. He hasn't even suffered the experience of having a loved one take their own life (though he implies may have at least experienced dealing with the attempt, I couldn't find anything to suggest this was the case). His poem reeks of optimism.
Now, I know that many of us treat optimism as if it were the ultimate ideal, but I would like to point out that optimism and pessimism are two sides of the same delusion. Neither point of view is realistic, because both are dualistic. Reality is multiplicity. But I would also argue that out of the two the optimists are the worse, because they often lack empathy, much less self-awareness -- never seeming to grasp that, to someone who is suffering, "Look on the bright side..." might as well be, "I really can't be bothered with what you are going through right now."
At least the pessimists would commiserate.
-dennis
But what does it mean?
Poetry is not my cup of tea. I find in my readings, an air of arrogance in terms of interpretation of meanings by the author that comes off when reading. In reading "At Night My Hat" by Matthew Dickman is an example I find frustrating. The poem starts off well enough setting a mood of loneness, wishing for someone to greet him when he gets home. But as you keep reading the meaning changes and becomes more convoluted. The hat changes symbolism to life goals, changing the metaphor completely.
Poetry is mostly a very short form of writing. The meaning needs to stay consist throughout the piece. You can't just change a major part of the poem and thus the theme mid poem. I feel an author needs to maintain what exactly their symbols mean in a consistent matter that is appropriate to the piece. You usually don't have that much space to get your message across, and the last thing you want to do as an author is get the message messed up and interpreted the wrong way.
By: Phillip Cobey
Poetry is mostly a very short form of writing. The meaning needs to stay consist throughout the piece. You can't just change a major part of the poem and thus the theme mid poem. I feel an author needs to maintain what exactly their symbols mean in a consistent matter that is appropriate to the piece. You usually don't have that much space to get your message across, and the last thing you want to do as an author is get the message messed up and interpreted the wrong way.
By: Phillip Cobey
This Is Just To Say
This Is Just To Say
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
Poetry can be multifaceted and versatile in its form and function, and while a poem like this seems to be less structural than, say, a sonnet, it maintains a more stripped down format that seems more suited to its simplistic content. In essence, or on a surface level, this poem appears to be an apology. If we look at the title, “This is Just to Say”, we can deduce that “This” refers to the poem and the “is Just to Say” is the action of the apology: I am writing this poem just to say I am sorry for eating your plums.
The speaker of the poem explains that he or she has eaten the plums that “you were probably / saving / for breakfast” and goes on to explain how good they were. We can say the speaker has acted negligently (since he or she has eaten the plums knowing there was a possibility “you” were saving them) and may even be taunting the “you” about how tasty they really were. We could also say the speaker acted impulsively or that he or she could not help themselves. There are several readings that we could get out of these brief lines.
The brevity of the poem also allows for specific focus on the words and not one of these words seems to be wasted. They each have a purpose, whether is it to describe a sensation, and action, or even a request. The brevity of the poem also seems to tie into the brevity of the moment (of eating the plums) and the brevity of the apology. This is one poem with three two separate moments and two separate entities. That is a lot to fit into twelve lines.
-Samantha Markey
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
Poetry can be multifaceted and versatile in its form and function, and while a poem like this seems to be less structural than, say, a sonnet, it maintains a more stripped down format that seems more suited to its simplistic content. In essence, or on a surface level, this poem appears to be an apology. If we look at the title, “This is Just to Say”, we can deduce that “This” refers to the poem and the “is Just to Say” is the action of the apology: I am writing this poem just to say I am sorry for eating your plums.
The speaker of the poem explains that he or she has eaten the plums that “you were probably / saving / for breakfast” and goes on to explain how good they were. We can say the speaker has acted negligently (since he or she has eaten the plums knowing there was a possibility “you” were saving them) and may even be taunting the “you” about how tasty they really were. We could also say the speaker acted impulsively or that he or she could not help themselves. There are several readings that we could get out of these brief lines.
The brevity of the poem also allows for specific focus on the words and not one of these words seems to be wasted. They each have a purpose, whether is it to describe a sensation, and action, or even a request. The brevity of the poem also seems to tie into the brevity of the moment (of eating the plums) and the brevity of the apology. This is one poem with three two separate moments and two separate entities. That is a lot to fit into twelve lines.
-Samantha Markey
ehh Poems- Ashley S
I am not a big fan of poems. I find them very hard to write and sometimes to understand. Sometimes I wonder while I'm reading how does the relate or go together for example in Matthew Dickman's poem Slow Dance He writes one thing and then writes about other things, to me it seems like they wont go together but somehow in the end they do connect. I am really curious as to why he always writes about his brother.
I thought the Sad Little Outlaw was an interesting poem. The first three lines really paints a picture for me. He is talking about him being the outlaw tied against a tree and his brother galloping with a broom (his horse) and a plastic fake gun. So it seems like a good childhood memory where him and his brother play together but then in line four he says "I was always being left behind" so his brother didn't want him around? Now I'm confused on what is going on. Then I am lost for the rest of the poem. I like to think I am some what creative but poems seem to often lose me.
Ashley S
I thought the Sad Little Outlaw was an interesting poem. The first three lines really paints a picture for me. He is talking about him being the outlaw tied against a tree and his brother galloping with a broom (his horse) and a plastic fake gun. So it seems like a good childhood memory where him and his brother play together but then in line four he says "I was always being left behind" so his brother didn't want him around? Now I'm confused on what is going on. Then I am lost for the rest of the poem. I like to think I am some what creative but poems seem to often lose me.
Ashley S
The Young Housewife
At ten AM the young housewife
moves about in negligee behind
the wooden walls of her husband’s house.
I pass solitary in my car.
Then again she comes to the curb
to call the ice-man, fish-man, and stands
shy, uncorseted, tucking in
stray ends of hair, and I compare her
to a fallen leaf.
The noiseless wheels of my car
rush with a crackling sound over
dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling.
The poem is veiled. The silence suggests adultery or quiet suffering from the housewife. The dried leaf comment may comment on the lost beauty of the woman, a wife who is now in her waning years. It could also mean "fallen" like fallen from grace. The leaves on the ground crumble under the narrator's car, maybe like the suffering of a housewife who is confided to her husbands world.
The Adultery comes in from the multiple mentioning of deliverymen. That old saying "youre the mailman's son" undergirds a sexual connotation in the associations people have with the housewife. She is defenseless and must be protected from her husband, but this house wife is young and vulnerable, able to be messed and made indignant, as her "uncorseted" image emerges from the house.
David Darner
At ten AM the young housewife
moves about in negligee behind
the wooden walls of her husband’s house.
I pass solitary in my car.
Then again she comes to the curb
to call the ice-man, fish-man, and stands
shy, uncorseted, tucking in
stray ends of hair, and I compare her
to a fallen leaf.
The noiseless wheels of my car
rush with a crackling sound over
dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling.
The poem is veiled. The silence suggests adultery or quiet suffering from the housewife. The dried leaf comment may comment on the lost beauty of the woman, a wife who is now in her waning years. It could also mean "fallen" like fallen from grace. The leaves on the ground crumble under the narrator's car, maybe like the suffering of a housewife who is confided to her husbands world.
The Adultery comes in from the multiple mentioning of deliverymen. That old saying "youre the mailman's son" undergirds a sexual connotation in the associations people have with the housewife. She is defenseless and must be protected from her husband, but this house wife is young and vulnerable, able to be messed and made indignant, as her "uncorseted" image emerges from the house.
David Darner
The Young Housewife
This poem seems like a musing from a passerby and something that swirls through his mind from an all too familiar scene every day of the week. I remember in the Silence of the Lambs Hannibal Lecter said something about "we covet what we see everyday." That was so poignant to me and proved to ring very true. We don't need things that are out of the ordinary to strike us, just simplicity. It was with great simplicity that Williams wrote this poem and it almost seems like it shouldn't even be a poem but perhaps that's what makes it such an interesting piece. It is so short it leaves a lot to the imagination. Is this guy just an innocent, does he have the makings of a stalker, are all of his intentions pure, does he have any intentions at all?
All of this is left to the mind of the reader. We can come away with it thinking it's not much of a stab at poetry or we can consider it very striking and interesting. My mind is still working about who this guy is, who the woman is, what is her relationship with the ice and fish man...why not the milk man? What type of neighborhood do they live in? The more questions I can think of, the more I try to understand the meaning behind it. This is probably what Williams intended. I'm sure it is.
Cindy Davis
All of this is left to the mind of the reader. We can come away with it thinking it's not much of a stab at poetry or we can consider it very striking and interesting. My mind is still working about who this guy is, who the woman is, what is her relationship with the ice and fish man...why not the milk man? What type of neighborhood do they live in? The more questions I can think of, the more I try to understand the meaning behind it. This is probably what Williams intended. I'm sure it is.
Cindy Davis
This Is Just To Say
I really enjoyed William Carlos Williams' poem, This Is Just To Say. It was very visual and simply formatted, but complex in tone and meaning. It was easy to read and 'see' the plums the author was writing about. It read almost like an apologetic note just left out for someone. However, it is the someone and meaning of this poem that makes it complex. I got a sense of sarcasm or poking fun of whoever ate the plums to the owner of them. They knew they weren't for them, but goes into describing how delicious they were. This teasing and playing with the reader can be compared to a relationship. There are jokes and playfulness, but also asking for forgiveness when knowing there is something wrong. The format of the poem also relates to a relationship in how at first it is simple, but breaking it down one notices how complex it really is.
Jae Khoury
Jae Khoury
That Was Just to Say
This is Just to Say
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
I can’t honestly say that I love this poem. It’s not a bad poem; it is, however, a piece that serves as a strong example for the concept of poetry. The people who don't read and even look oddly at poetry look at poems like these and think “What the heck is this? Even my pet could write like this!”
Yes, while this poem could look like a couple of sentences strung together to the casual reader, but to a person who knows how to read poetry and has an appreciation for the medium it shows talent. No ordinary person could have put these sentences out and still invoke something. The poem could create a different response in each reader: When I first read it I smiled, noticing the tone in the last stanza. I heard a smirking, playful, voice. The author essentially says “I took what you’d been saving and I loved it.”
I didn’t think of plums when I read the poem, I thought of what the plums represented. They are fruits, the fruits of labor. Either money or something else that was significant to the person whom the narrator addresses yet they were purposefully taken. Funny, albeit a bit mean.
~Nitesh Arora
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
I can’t honestly say that I love this poem. It’s not a bad poem; it is, however, a piece that serves as a strong example for the concept of poetry. The people who don't read and even look oddly at poetry look at poems like these and think “What the heck is this? Even my pet could write like this!”
Yes, while this poem could look like a couple of sentences strung together to the casual reader, but to a person who knows how to read poetry and has an appreciation for the medium it shows talent. No ordinary person could have put these sentences out and still invoke something. The poem could create a different response in each reader: When I first read it I smiled, noticing the tone in the last stanza. I heard a smirking, playful, voice. The author essentially says “I took what you’d been saving and I loved it.”
I didn’t think of plums when I read the poem, I thought of what the plums represented. They are fruits, the fruits of labor. Either money or something else that was significant to the person whom the narrator addresses yet they were purposefully taken. Funny, albeit a bit mean.
~Nitesh Arora
Monday, October 11, 2010
Marianne Moore
I love Marianne Moore's "The Fish", because it reminds me of when I went snorkeling almost a decade ago. She uses beautiful imagery and compares the sea to jewels; that image of her experience seems to glint and shine in the sunlight. However, the end of the poem shows not the ocean's beauty, but the abuse we humans inflict on the sea. It's terrible to think that we ruin things that are so beautiful. All those marks and grooves seem to give it character, whatever "it" may symbolize.
I've read another poem by Marianne Moore called "I May, I Might, I Must", and "The Fish" doesn't seem to have the same impact as "I May...", because that poem has helped me adjust to college life. It disappointed me a little bit; I wish she had more of her strong voice in this one.
I've read another poem by Marianne Moore called "I May, I Might, I Must", and "The Fish" doesn't seem to have the same impact as "I May...", because that poem has helped me adjust to college life. It disappointed me a little bit; I wish she had more of her strong voice in this one.
This Is Just To Say
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
I really enjoyed this poem by Williams. His language is very crisp, clean and succinct, and he uses his language to paint a clear picture. At first, the poem seems like it is just a note left on a table. But even though the language is very simple, it still reads very poetically. No word in the poem is over three syllables, and the form is simplistic. However, I feel like there is more complexity pertaining to Williams' intentions of the poem that underlie the words' simplicity.
I like how Williams gives the plums a tantalizing, almost erotic, connotation. He knew that he wasn't supposed to eat them, but he succumbed to the temptation. His apology comes off as insincere, and instead he seems to revel in the pleasure it gave him.
-Jackie
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
I really enjoyed this poem by Williams. His language is very crisp, clean and succinct, and he uses his language to paint a clear picture. At first, the poem seems like it is just a note left on a table. But even though the language is very simple, it still reads very poetically. No word in the poem is over three syllables, and the form is simplistic. However, I feel like there is more complexity pertaining to Williams' intentions of the poem that underlie the words' simplicity.
I like how Williams gives the plums a tantalizing, almost erotic, connotation. He knew that he wasn't supposed to eat them, but he succumbed to the temptation. His apology comes off as insincere, and instead he seems to revel in the pleasure it gave him.
-Jackie
Thursday, October 7, 2010
poetry
http://www.blessedwithlove.com/poem/sweet-brown-harlem-girl
I believe that this poem works because it gives the reader a descriptive visual to imagine. The reader has an idea of what this person looks like, or can make their own perception of how their own harlem would look. From this particular piece, we can see that successful poetry is very descriptive. We also see that it connects to other aspects of our life. For example, the concept of being able to dance to a record is something most people can relate to.
~Jaaziah Bethea~
I believe that this poem works because it gives the reader a descriptive visual to imagine. The reader has an idea of what this person looks like, or can make their own perception of how their own harlem would look. From this particular piece, we can see that successful poetry is very descriptive. We also see that it connects to other aspects of our life. For example, the concept of being able to dance to a record is something most people can relate to.
~Jaaziah Bethea~
Even the darkest hour must come to its close.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I offer for your consideration the oft-misquoted, and more often misunderstood, William Blake:
Auguries of Innocence
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell through all its regions.
A dog starved at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipped and armed for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer wandering here and there
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misused breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be beloved by men.
He who the ox to wrath has moved
Shall never be by woman loved.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of Envy's foot.
The poison of the honey-bee
Is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so:
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands,
Throughout all these human lands;
Tools were made and born were hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;
This is caught by females bright
And returned to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes Revenge! in realms of death.
The beggar's rags fluttering in air
Does to rags the heavens tear.
The soldier armed with sword and gun
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
One mite wrung from the labourer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands,
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mocked in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.
The questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.
The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plough
To peaceful arts shall Envy bow.
A riddle or the cricket's cry
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding sheet.
The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.
Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born.
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not through the eye
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appears, and God is light
To those poor souls who dwell in night,
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.
When I referred to Blake as oft-misquoted, I had in mind a specific instance of misuse. This instance occurred within the opening of an essay on the ethics of Human Cloning written by Leon Kass (then Chair of the President’s Council on Bio-Ethics under George Bush). The quote in question, is from Blake’s ‘The Lamb’ from his collection Songs of Innocence:
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
I consider Kass’ quotation a misuse, thus a misquotation, because it served in no way to strengthen his argument, or to detract from it and therefore warrant a rebuttal. Instead, Kass seemed merely to be attempting to aggrandize himself and his opinion by aligning himself with a well-known, and well-loved poet.
When I referred to that poet as more often misunderstood, I meant in the sense expressed within this impromptu analysis someone posted on a website about poetry (please note statements that I have made bold):
I cannot help but offer commentary on this poem that has often given me inspiration. As mentioned in the previous post, the first stanza is very descriptive and "pretty". One should recognize that these four lines are the only ones that stand apart from the lengthy body of the poem. They are also near the only lines that Blake chose to leave free of paradox and conflict. Auguries of Innocence is a long assembly of conflicted situations laden with warnings and omens of judgement[sic] (The word "auguries" means omen) The poem draws a line pitting the innocent or underprivileged against those blessed and elite. It calls for the audience to take note of so many subtle beauties and to recognize the fragile balance that allows such things to thrive. Blake was of coarse ultra religious and is righteous in his determination of justice and protection of innocence. The poem is purposely long and trying including portions of rough rhyme scheme. This may be an attempt by the poet to mimic our lives so full of bumps and challenges. In the end of the poem as at the end of Blake's perception of life comes judgement. Those who experienced darkness (endless night) and were not blessed or elite will find god in all his promised splendor. Those who were elite and "clothed in light" will see god as well but he will come to them as an abstraction of himself. The accompanying painting that Blake created shows a great dragon standing over a beautiful woman. As warned throughout the poem she will be punished for her ignorance and bliss. Like any ultra religious person, Blake is highly alarmed by sin but this poem goes further to specify that the theft of innocence is one sin that stands above all others and will encounter the most severe consequence. Be a protector of the weak and innocent and you shall be rewarded; if only in the very end of days. This poem is the inspiration behind the painting: "the great red dragon and the woman clothed in sun" which in turn is the inspiration behind "red dragon" the recent movie and book.
Many people read the poem in such a way, and Blake is often considered to be a very religious person, but I think both of these perceptions are incorrect. Thus, what follows addresses those emboldened statements above:
First of all, auguries does not mean omen. An augury is the art or practice of an augur, that is, an act of divination. Divination is the practice of attempting to foretell future events or discover hidden knowledge by occult or supernatural means (both of these definitions are taken from dictionary.com and are listed as each words primary definition; I feel I should mention that omen is listed as a definition of augury, albeit a tertiary definition, which at best makes it a bad connotation of the word). So, Auguries of Innocence, literally, means something like, the attempts of the innocent to see and understand the supernatural, within nature.
Second, the perception that the poem draws a line pitting the innocent or underprivileged against those blessed and elite is utterly false, and in no way in keeping with the title of the poem – we must bear in mind that Blake is a master poet, which means he does not use words with blithe indifference to their meaning, nor is he likely to waste them. I will further support this assertion in the analysis that follows.
Third, it is a common assumption that Blake was a very religious person, given his regular references to god, and the general subject matter of his poems, but this assumption reveals a myopic outlook and a tendency not to look past the surface. The poems collected in Songs of Innocence all ring very religious, but many of them were directly addressed in a later collection entitled Songs of Experience – as an example of this contrast ‘The Lamb,’ from Songs of Innocence, with ‘The Tiger,’ from Songs of Experience. In ‘The Lamb’, Innocence is astounded by a creature and the notion of a creator. In ‘The Tiger’, Experience questions how the same entity responsible for a creature like the lamb could also be responsible for the creation of the tiger – that is, if god is omnipotent, and omniscient, then why does he allow evil to exist? Furthermore, three of his closest friends, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (author of Frankenstein or; The Modern Prometheus – strange that the subtitle so often get overlooked), her husband Percy Bysshe Shelley (an accomplished poet in his own right, whose poem Ozymandias almost beat out Auguries in my mind), and Thomas Paine (author of Common Sense), were some of History’s greatest Doubters. In my experience, ‘ultra-religious people’ rarely have much of a tolerance for those who do not adhere to their world-view.
Fourth, Fifth and Sixth, all of these assertions about Blake’s meaning in the poem ring false if we consider the poem as a whole. Perhaps it would help if we reformed its lyrical structure into that of prose. Thus:
To see a world in a grain of sand /And a heaven in a wild flower,/Hold infinity in the palm of your hand/
And eternity in an hour. This is an advisory statement, hence the first word; if we are to see the world in a grain of sand, then we must… This is also a summation of Innocence, which is exceedingly capable of doing these very same things. Harken back to the days of your childhood, and recall how long those days would seem.
A robin redbreast in a cage/Puts all heaven in a rage./A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons/Shudders hell through all its regions. If this doesn’t seem obvious enough, Maya Angelou practically spell it out for you in I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.
A dog starved at his master's gate/Predicts the ruin of the state./A horse misused upon the road/
Calls to heaven for human blood. When we ignore the needs of those who come to depend on us, particularly in the sense of the governed upon the government, we set ourselves up for ruin. And when we abuse those we rely most upon, in the sense of the government upon the governed, we incite revolution. (It should be kept in mind that this poem was written shortly after the American Revolution, and Paine was a major contributor to the line of thinking that was ultimately used to justify American Independence.)
[Since I am already running exceedingly long on this post, I’m going to skip past some of the poem, but I highly encourage anyone who is even remotely interested in this analysis to step deeper themselves.]
The bat that flits at close of eve/Has left the brain that won't believe./The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright. This stanza has been cited before as evidence of Blake’s religiosity, but I would argue against this perception. For one, the poem is about the perceptions of Innocence, as opposed to experience. In addition to this fact, though many of those who believe in god may imagine the experience of unbelievers to be a frightful one, most unbelievers (as rationalists at heart) are highly unlikely to fear things like bats and owls in the night. Also, notice that the bat ‘has left’, as if spawned by, the brain that won’t believe, and the owl ‘speaks’ the unbeliever’s fright. The perceptions of an ‘Innocent’ mind.
A truth that's told with bad intent/Beats all the lies you can invent. What could that mean?
It is right it should be so:/Man was made for joy and woe;/And when this we rightly know/Through the world we safely go./Joy and woe are woven fine,/A clothing for the soul divine./Under every grief and pine/Runs a joy with silken twine. Though I wasn’t consciously aware of it at the time, these eight verses probably had some influence upon the sentiments I expressed in my previous post.
He who mocks the infant's faith…/…Doth put the light of knowledge out. The sentiments expressed here, with regard to those who doubt, are not uncommon among the faithful.
Every night and every morn/Some to misery are born./Every morn and every night/Some are born to sweet delight./Some are born to sweet delight,/Some are born to endless night. Now, our above quoted commentator suggested that the point of these lines are, more succinctly than they chose to put it, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” (Matthew 5:5) They effectively link these verses with the final four verses of the poem: God appears, etc. But this, again, is a surface perception, that is, to say that it is a reality of the world that some are born to sweet delight, to a life free from cares or worries, with every imaginable need or desire easily filled (your princes of England say, or Paris Hilton), whilst others are born to endless night, no hope, no ease, no comfort, naught but struggle. Many of us in the ‘developed world’ find it disturbingly easy to look past this reality, particularly in our day-to-day.
But this is a poem. It is phrased exclusively in metaphor, only the first four lines even approach simile. These statements are not meant to address worldly condition, but universal perception. Perhaps ‘sweet delight’ refers to a feeling of oneness – of connection – to the world around us, as a part and agent of it, and an acceptance of the fact that we were ‘made for joy and woe’. Perhaps ‘endless night’ is the opposite of this, the fears that torment us as we lay awake in our beds, terrified by the absurdity of it all.
Taking these six verses in this way, a view that is reinforced by his repetition of the thought, we must re-evaluate those last four verses: God appears, and God is light/To those poor souls who dwell in night,/But does a human form display/To those who dwell in realms of day. God is the comfort of those who find themselves tormented by the absurd nature of existence. Who was it that said, “Religion is a balm for the soul”? For those who choose to dwell in realms of day (bear in mind that since the time of the Myth of Prometheus, light and knowledge/truth have been unequivocally equated), no such balm is needed.
But how do we justify this interpretation, why by the very four verses which proceed, and with the final four make up the ultimate message of the poem, Blake’s closing words to us: We are led to believe a lie/When we see not through the eye/Which was born in a night to perish in a night,/When the soul slept in beams of light. We are led to believe a lie, when we see not through the eye, which was born in a night to perish in a night… We are led to believe a lie when we look to find truth in things other than those we can perceive with our own perishable (but wait, doesn’t that make them flawed?) eyes. A very religious person encouraging us to trust only that which we can perceive with our own eyes, aka empirically? Suspect, to say the least.
As I stated at the beginning, oft-misquoted, most often misunderstood.
-dennis
Auguries of Innocence
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell through all its regions.
A dog starved at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipped and armed for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer wandering here and there
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misused breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be beloved by men.
He who the ox to wrath has moved
Shall never be by woman loved.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of Envy's foot.
The poison of the honey-bee
Is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so:
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands,
Throughout all these human lands;
Tools were made and born were hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;
This is caught by females bright
And returned to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes Revenge! in realms of death.
The beggar's rags fluttering in air
Does to rags the heavens tear.
The soldier armed with sword and gun
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
One mite wrung from the labourer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands,
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mocked in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.
The questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.
The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plough
To peaceful arts shall Envy bow.
A riddle or the cricket's cry
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding sheet.
The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.
Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born.
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not through the eye
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appears, and God is light
To those poor souls who dwell in night,
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.
When I referred to Blake as oft-misquoted, I had in mind a specific instance of misuse. This instance occurred within the opening of an essay on the ethics of Human Cloning written by Leon Kass (then Chair of the President’s Council on Bio-Ethics under George Bush). The quote in question, is from Blake’s ‘The Lamb’ from his collection Songs of Innocence:
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
I consider Kass’ quotation a misuse, thus a misquotation, because it served in no way to strengthen his argument, or to detract from it and therefore warrant a rebuttal. Instead, Kass seemed merely to be attempting to aggrandize himself and his opinion by aligning himself with a well-known, and well-loved poet.
When I referred to that poet as more often misunderstood, I meant in the sense expressed within this impromptu analysis someone posted on a website about poetry (please note statements that I have made bold):
I cannot help but offer commentary on this poem that has often given me inspiration. As mentioned in the previous post, the first stanza is very descriptive and "pretty". One should recognize that these four lines are the only ones that stand apart from the lengthy body of the poem. They are also near the only lines that Blake chose to leave free of paradox and conflict. Auguries of Innocence is a long assembly of conflicted situations laden with warnings and omens of judgement[sic] (The word "auguries" means omen) The poem draws a line pitting the innocent or underprivileged against those blessed and elite. It calls for the audience to take note of so many subtle beauties and to recognize the fragile balance that allows such things to thrive. Blake was of coarse ultra religious and is righteous in his determination of justice and protection of innocence. The poem is purposely long and trying including portions of rough rhyme scheme. This may be an attempt by the poet to mimic our lives so full of bumps and challenges. In the end of the poem as at the end of Blake's perception of life comes judgement. Those who experienced darkness (endless night) and were not blessed or elite will find god in all his promised splendor. Those who were elite and "clothed in light" will see god as well but he will come to them as an abstraction of himself. The accompanying painting that Blake created shows a great dragon standing over a beautiful woman. As warned throughout the poem she will be punished for her ignorance and bliss. Like any ultra religious person, Blake is highly alarmed by sin but this poem goes further to specify that the theft of innocence is one sin that stands above all others and will encounter the most severe consequence. Be a protector of the weak and innocent and you shall be rewarded; if only in the very end of days. This poem is the inspiration behind the painting: "the great red dragon and the woman clothed in sun" which in turn is the inspiration behind "red dragon" the recent movie and book.
Many people read the poem in such a way, and Blake is often considered to be a very religious person, but I think both of these perceptions are incorrect. Thus, what follows addresses those emboldened statements above:
First of all, auguries does not mean omen. An augury is the art or practice of an augur, that is, an act of divination. Divination is the practice of attempting to foretell future events or discover hidden knowledge by occult or supernatural means (both of these definitions are taken from dictionary.com and are listed as each words primary definition; I feel I should mention that omen is listed as a definition of augury, albeit a tertiary definition, which at best makes it a bad connotation of the word). So, Auguries of Innocence, literally, means something like, the attempts of the innocent to see and understand the supernatural, within nature.
Second, the perception that the poem draws a line pitting the innocent or underprivileged against those blessed and elite is utterly false, and in no way in keeping with the title of the poem – we must bear in mind that Blake is a master poet, which means he does not use words with blithe indifference to their meaning, nor is he likely to waste them. I will further support this assertion in the analysis that follows.
Third, it is a common assumption that Blake was a very religious person, given his regular references to god, and the general subject matter of his poems, but this assumption reveals a myopic outlook and a tendency not to look past the surface. The poems collected in Songs of Innocence all ring very religious, but many of them were directly addressed in a later collection entitled Songs of Experience – as an example of this contrast ‘The Lamb,’ from Songs of Innocence, with ‘The Tiger,’ from Songs of Experience. In ‘The Lamb’, Innocence is astounded by a creature and the notion of a creator. In ‘The Tiger’, Experience questions how the same entity responsible for a creature like the lamb could also be responsible for the creation of the tiger – that is, if god is omnipotent, and omniscient, then why does he allow evil to exist? Furthermore, three of his closest friends, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (author of Frankenstein or; The Modern Prometheus – strange that the subtitle so often get overlooked), her husband Percy Bysshe Shelley (an accomplished poet in his own right, whose poem Ozymandias almost beat out Auguries in my mind), and Thomas Paine (author of Common Sense), were some of History’s greatest Doubters. In my experience, ‘ultra-religious people’ rarely have much of a tolerance for those who do not adhere to their world-view.
Fourth, Fifth and Sixth, all of these assertions about Blake’s meaning in the poem ring false if we consider the poem as a whole. Perhaps it would help if we reformed its lyrical structure into that of prose. Thus:
To see a world in a grain of sand /And a heaven in a wild flower,/Hold infinity in the palm of your hand/
And eternity in an hour. This is an advisory statement, hence the first word; if we are to see the world in a grain of sand, then we must… This is also a summation of Innocence, which is exceedingly capable of doing these very same things. Harken back to the days of your childhood, and recall how long those days would seem.
A robin redbreast in a cage/Puts all heaven in a rage./A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons/Shudders hell through all its regions. If this doesn’t seem obvious enough, Maya Angelou practically spell it out for you in I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.
A dog starved at his master's gate/Predicts the ruin of the state./A horse misused upon the road/
Calls to heaven for human blood. When we ignore the needs of those who come to depend on us, particularly in the sense of the governed upon the government, we set ourselves up for ruin. And when we abuse those we rely most upon, in the sense of the government upon the governed, we incite revolution. (It should be kept in mind that this poem was written shortly after the American Revolution, and Paine was a major contributor to the line of thinking that was ultimately used to justify American Independence.)
[Since I am already running exceedingly long on this post, I’m going to skip past some of the poem, but I highly encourage anyone who is even remotely interested in this analysis to step deeper themselves.]
The bat that flits at close of eve/Has left the brain that won't believe./The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright. This stanza has been cited before as evidence of Blake’s religiosity, but I would argue against this perception. For one, the poem is about the perceptions of Innocence, as opposed to experience. In addition to this fact, though many of those who believe in god may imagine the experience of unbelievers to be a frightful one, most unbelievers (as rationalists at heart) are highly unlikely to fear things like bats and owls in the night. Also, notice that the bat ‘has left’, as if spawned by, the brain that won’t believe, and the owl ‘speaks’ the unbeliever’s fright. The perceptions of an ‘Innocent’ mind.
A truth that's told with bad intent/Beats all the lies you can invent. What could that mean?
It is right it should be so:/Man was made for joy and woe;/And when this we rightly know/Through the world we safely go./Joy and woe are woven fine,/A clothing for the soul divine./Under every grief and pine/Runs a joy with silken twine. Though I wasn’t consciously aware of it at the time, these eight verses probably had some influence upon the sentiments I expressed in my previous post.
He who mocks the infant's faith…/…Doth put the light of knowledge out. The sentiments expressed here, with regard to those who doubt, are not uncommon among the faithful.
Every night and every morn/Some to misery are born./Every morn and every night/Some are born to sweet delight./Some are born to sweet delight,/Some are born to endless night. Now, our above quoted commentator suggested that the point of these lines are, more succinctly than they chose to put it, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” (Matthew 5:5) They effectively link these verses with the final four verses of the poem: God appears, etc. But this, again, is a surface perception, that is, to say that it is a reality of the world that some are born to sweet delight, to a life free from cares or worries, with every imaginable need or desire easily filled (your princes of England say, or Paris Hilton), whilst others are born to endless night, no hope, no ease, no comfort, naught but struggle. Many of us in the ‘developed world’ find it disturbingly easy to look past this reality, particularly in our day-to-day.
But this is a poem. It is phrased exclusively in metaphor, only the first four lines even approach simile. These statements are not meant to address worldly condition, but universal perception. Perhaps ‘sweet delight’ refers to a feeling of oneness – of connection – to the world around us, as a part and agent of it, and an acceptance of the fact that we were ‘made for joy and woe’. Perhaps ‘endless night’ is the opposite of this, the fears that torment us as we lay awake in our beds, terrified by the absurdity of it all.
Taking these six verses in this way, a view that is reinforced by his repetition of the thought, we must re-evaluate those last four verses: God appears, and God is light/To those poor souls who dwell in night,/But does a human form display/To those who dwell in realms of day. God is the comfort of those who find themselves tormented by the absurd nature of existence. Who was it that said, “Religion is a balm for the soul”? For those who choose to dwell in realms of day (bear in mind that since the time of the Myth of Prometheus, light and knowledge/truth have been unequivocally equated), no such balm is needed.
But how do we justify this interpretation, why by the very four verses which proceed, and with the final four make up the ultimate message of the poem, Blake’s closing words to us: We are led to believe a lie/When we see not through the eye/Which was born in a night to perish in a night,/When the soul slept in beams of light. We are led to believe a lie, when we see not through the eye, which was born in a night to perish in a night… We are led to believe a lie when we look to find truth in things other than those we can perceive with our own perishable (but wait, doesn’t that make them flawed?) eyes. A very religious person encouraging us to trust only that which we can perceive with our own eyes, aka empirically? Suspect, to say the least.
As I stated at the beginning, oft-misquoted, most often misunderstood.
-dennis
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
SUNNY SKIES
(Originally posted on 9/30/10)
Sunny Skies
It's funny you and I
Were both so blue
Do you feel the things I do?
Sunny Skies
I still can see your eyes
When you said hello
I knew all too soon you'd go
When the autumn came you went away
Was our summer love a bit too hot for you to stay?
Please don't make this last forever
It's raining January through December
Please don't take away my Sunny Skies
Sunny Skies
A tear fell from my eyes
And since you went away
I've been sad, blue and grey
Sunny Skies
It's really no surprise
That I'm lost alone and I wish you just come home
When the autumn leaves came tumbling down
I looked everywhere and you could not be found
Don't make it last forever
It's raining January Through December
Please don't take away my Sunny Skies
I usually do not write pieces that have repetition in them but this seemed fitting. The sample listed above The reader can link the works because the first line is like the thesis of an essay, it is the main idea and the focus that all the symbolism from there on out will revolve around; a connecting factor that brings the stray images together. Frost starts at one point, builds builds builds on the symbolism, then, at the end, like in an essay, he repeats his thesis to tie those branches into a single knot again. The repetition is unifying.
Craig Fontenot
Sunny Skies
It's funny you and I
Were both so blue
Do you feel the things I do?
Sunny Skies
I still can see your eyes
When you said hello
I knew all too soon you'd go
When the autumn came you went away
Was our summer love a bit too hot for you to stay?
Please don't make this last forever
It's raining January through December
Please don't take away my Sunny Skies
Sunny Skies
A tear fell from my eyes
And since you went away
I've been sad, blue and grey
Sunny Skies
It's really no surprise
That I'm lost alone and I wish you just come home
When the autumn leaves came tumbling down
I looked everywhere and you could not be found
Don't make it last forever
It's raining January Through December
Please don't take away my Sunny Skies
I usually do not write pieces that have repetition in them but this seemed fitting. The sample listed above The reader can link the works because the first line is like the thesis of an essay, it is the main idea and the focus that all the symbolism from there on out will revolve around; a connecting factor that brings the stray images together. Frost starts at one point, builds builds builds on the symbolism, then, at the end, like in an essay, he repeats his thesis to tie those branches into a single knot again. The repetition is unifying.
Craig Fontenot
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
The Road Not Taken vs. The Road Taken
The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Obviously most everyone going through school probably read this poem at least once, but I picked this because it seems to be one of those works that seems a lot trickier than it seems to be at first glance. Most people I know interpret the poem as a relatively simplistic piece endorsing the "less taken" road, in other words promoting non-conformity. Yet both roads seem "worn about the same," creating more ambiguity and difficulty than simply choosing a "less-traveled road" since at least the visible parts of the path seem equal. The title itself, "The Road Not Taken," the fact that he says in the future he "shall be telling this with a sigh," as well as that stop after his first I implies uncertainty and curiosity as to what would have happened had he made another choice, and a sign of potential regret for taking the path he took. The fact that his choice "made all the difference" has a neutral tone, making the piece much more ambiguous and pensive than the conventional meaning it has attached to it demonstrates.
That said, I've heard a lot of analyses of this poem, even including the fact that the poem may be an ironic parody of conventional poetic voices. That said, Frost is masterful enough in his field that even if his poem is veiled in a sense of irony, it is ambiguous and intricate enough that it creates the potential for many different meanings and conclusions to be drawn from it.
-Tomas F
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Obviously most everyone going through school probably read this poem at least once, but I picked this because it seems to be one of those works that seems a lot trickier than it seems to be at first glance. Most people I know interpret the poem as a relatively simplistic piece endorsing the "less taken" road, in other words promoting non-conformity. Yet both roads seem "worn about the same," creating more ambiguity and difficulty than simply choosing a "less-traveled road" since at least the visible parts of the path seem equal. The title itself, "The Road Not Taken," the fact that he says in the future he "shall be telling this with a sigh," as well as that stop after his first I implies uncertainty and curiosity as to what would have happened had he made another choice, and a sign of potential regret for taking the path he took. The fact that his choice "made all the difference" has a neutral tone, making the piece much more ambiguous and pensive than the conventional meaning it has attached to it demonstrates.
That said, I've heard a lot of analyses of this poem, even including the fact that the poem may be an ironic parody of conventional poetic voices. That said, Frost is masterful enough in his field that even if his poem is veiled in a sense of irony, it is ambiguous and intricate enough that it creates the potential for many different meanings and conclusions to be drawn from it.
-Tomas F
Shall I Compare thee to a Summer's Day
Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day?
by William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Yes, one of the most cliché of the poetic favorites. I’ve seen this sonnet multiple times, it was one of the first pieces that I analyzed. What works? It’s timeless, formulaic, and meaningful. Shakespeare incorporated figurative language but does so with the romantic tones of the age and not in a forced manner. The poet used his famed ‘Shakespearean Sonnet’ style establishing rhyme and rhythm.
Poetry can’t be deemed successful because it seems cute or it rhymes. Successful poetry will have a pattern or structure that deems it separate from a list of words. Also, because poetry isn’t typically a lengthy choice of writing, the words used must be chosen carefully and should meaningful to the piece as a whole. This means that authors have liberty to omit certain parts of speech; instead of writing in sentences authors can cut the prepositions and attempt to relay just the essence of thought.
Moreover, this poem is effective because it incorporates a common and timeless theme, that of love. The strongest poetry deals with strong themes, one note poems fall a bit short of the attempted impact.
~Nitesh Arora
by William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Yes, one of the most cliché of the poetic favorites. I’ve seen this sonnet multiple times, it was one of the first pieces that I analyzed. What works? It’s timeless, formulaic, and meaningful. Shakespeare incorporated figurative language but does so with the romantic tones of the age and not in a forced manner. The poet used his famed ‘Shakespearean Sonnet’ style establishing rhyme and rhythm.
Poetry can’t be deemed successful because it seems cute or it rhymes. Successful poetry will have a pattern or structure that deems it separate from a list of words. Also, because poetry isn’t typically a lengthy choice of writing, the words used must be chosen carefully and should meaningful to the piece as a whole. This means that authors have liberty to omit certain parts of speech; instead of writing in sentences authors can cut the prepositions and attempt to relay just the essence of thought.
Moreover, this poem is effective because it incorporates a common and timeless theme, that of love. The strongest poetry deals with strong themes, one note poems fall a bit short of the attempted impact.
~Nitesh Arora
Leonard Cohen I Long to Hold Some Lady- Ashley
I Long to Hold Some Lady from The Spice Box of Earth by Leonard Cohen
I long to hold some lady
For my love is far away,
And will not come tomorrow
And was not here today.
There is no flesh so perfect
As on my lady's bone,
And yet it seems so distant
When I am all alone:
As though she were a masterpiece
In some castled town,
That pilgrims come to visit
And priests to copy down.
Alas, I cannot travel
To a love I have so deep
Or sleep too close beside
A love I want to keep.
But I long to hold some lady,
For flesh is warm and sweet.
Cold skeletons go marching
Each night beside my feet.
I personally liked this poem. The poem expreses how he misses his lady and wants to be with her. He expresses how perfect his lady is and how she is a masterpiece but she is away from him and he misses his lady. What I thought didn't work was that he said " I long to hold some lady for my love is far away, and will not come tomorrow and was not here today" so this part confussed me because I was not sure if he wanted his lady or if he wanted any lady. This piece really flows and sounds good. everything in this poem goes together and seems to have the same beat.
I long to hold some lady
For my love is far away,
And will not come tomorrow
And was not here today.
There is no flesh so perfect
As on my lady's bone,
And yet it seems so distant
When I am all alone:
As though she were a masterpiece
In some castled town,
That pilgrims come to visit
And priests to copy down.
Alas, I cannot travel
To a love I have so deep
Or sleep too close beside
A love I want to keep.
But I long to hold some lady,
For flesh is warm and sweet.
Cold skeletons go marching
Each night beside my feet.
I personally liked this poem. The poem expreses how he misses his lady and wants to be with her. He expresses how perfect his lady is and how she is a masterpiece but she is away from him and he misses his lady. What I thought didn't work was that he said " I long to hold some lady for my love is far away, and will not come tomorrow and was not here today" so this part confussed me because I was not sure if he wanted his lady or if he wanted any lady. This piece really flows and sounds good. everything in this poem goes together and seems to have the same beat.
We Wear the Mask
We Wear the Mask
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be overwise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
This lyric poem is laid out in iambic tetrameter, which means that each of the lines have four sets of both stressed and unstressed syllables; a total of eight syllables per line. The only lines that don’t follow this pattern are lines 9 and 15. Historically, Dunbar wrote “We wear the mask,” in the middle of the age of slavery, and it about the oppression that black Americans of the time. More specifically, the “story” of the poem is about how slaves at the time had to hide their pain and suffering behind a fake wall of happiness and contentment.
The message of the poem can be just as relevant today; not the slavery aspects mind you, just the thought that we individuals each wear a mask that hides who we really are. There is always one thing, no matter how small, that no-one in you lie knows about you.
Moving on. Lyric poems as a whole do not have to have an “end rhyme,” This one however does; for example, working in an “a a b b c” pattern in the first stanza. This basic pattern continues with the second and third stanza; however, the syllables do change. Making the second stanza “d d e f,” and the third, “a a b b c g.” Yes, the third stanza combines the first two, somewhat, but it is no less affective. What makes this a strong lyrical poem, again, are the strong images depicted of such a hard period of U.S. history, and the powerful feelings and emotions expressed within the lines.
- David James Scalea
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be overwise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
This lyric poem is laid out in iambic tetrameter, which means that each of the lines have four sets of both stressed and unstressed syllables; a total of eight syllables per line. The only lines that don’t follow this pattern are lines 9 and 15. Historically, Dunbar wrote “We wear the mask,” in the middle of the age of slavery, and it about the oppression that black Americans of the time. More specifically, the “story” of the poem is about how slaves at the time had to hide their pain and suffering behind a fake wall of happiness and contentment.
The message of the poem can be just as relevant today; not the slavery aspects mind you, just the thought that we individuals each wear a mask that hides who we really are. There is always one thing, no matter how small, that no-one in you lie knows about you.
Moving on. Lyric poems as a whole do not have to have an “end rhyme,” This one however does; for example, working in an “a a b b c” pattern in the first stanza. This basic pattern continues with the second and third stanza; however, the syllables do change. Making the second stanza “d d e f,” and the third, “a a b b c g.” Yes, the third stanza combines the first two, somewhat, but it is no less affective. What makes this a strong lyrical poem, again, are the strong images depicted of such a hard period of U.S. history, and the powerful feelings and emotions expressed within the lines.
- David James Scalea
On the moon and springtime
Is this not that moon?
And Spring: is as the Spring of old
Is it not?
Only this body of mine
Is as it ever was…
-Ariwara no Narihira
I'm not sure a waka is what was in mind for analyzing, but I've found it to be the most effective form of poetry for me. This particular poem works for me in its simplicity. Despite its restrictive style (see Waka in wikipedia), it manages to ask two questions directly. beyond the direct questions, the poem is short and concise creating enough imagery and enough thought to last plenty of time. It isn't so general that the meaning is lost and the poem becomes something a third grader could produce. For me personally, the lack of detail helps me relate to the poem. I feel that extended detail can make it more difficult to extract the poem's meaning. Instead, this poem uses experiences and thoughts universal to us, while putting them together in a meaningful and complex way.
One issue with any poetry is that when it is translated there is a loss in meaning, this is especially true with translating this poem, where the Japanese language's difference in rhythm and overall sentence structure really leaves a large list of words that the translator must both fabricate and take away due to the nature of the translation.
Despite this, I feel this poem is both timeless and works well despite the difficult translation. It touches on a very basic emotion, but provokes more from the reader the more he or she reflects on the poem.
And Spring: is as the Spring of old
Is it not?
Only this body of mine
Is as it ever was…
-Ariwara no Narihira
I'm not sure a waka is what was in mind for analyzing, but I've found it to be the most effective form of poetry for me. This particular poem works for me in its simplicity. Despite its restrictive style (see Waka in wikipedia), it manages to ask two questions directly. beyond the direct questions, the poem is short and concise creating enough imagery and enough thought to last plenty of time. It isn't so general that the meaning is lost and the poem becomes something a third grader could produce. For me personally, the lack of detail helps me relate to the poem. I feel that extended detail can make it more difficult to extract the poem's meaning. Instead, this poem uses experiences and thoughts universal to us, while putting them together in a meaningful and complex way.
One issue with any poetry is that when it is translated there is a loss in meaning, this is especially true with translating this poem, where the Japanese language's difference in rhythm and overall sentence structure really leaves a large list of words that the translator must both fabricate and take away due to the nature of the translation.
Despite this, I feel this poem is both timeless and works well despite the difficult translation. It touches on a very basic emotion, but provokes more from the reader the more he or she reflects on the poem.
Akira Toriyama (Ode to Dragonball Z)
Wondrous,
Opulent,
Hero of children,
Lord of strength,
Savior,
Thou son of sun,
Sun of our sons,
Waltz-man of imagination,
Became the mustard seed in the hearts of man,
Connected as they brows to eyes,
To the tree of might all have grown to cherish,
Marked by black and gold stalagmites reaching the sky,
To our clouds,
And thou and they hat taken to this flight,
To the zenith of existence,
"Kamehameha!" Solely the utterance is as a bomb to our spirits.
"Kamehameha!" We sing in praise of thee,
Star of glory,
Warrior of light,
Thou art even still...
Our hero.
I picked this poem because Dragonball z dominated my childhood. Ever since third grade, I've rushed home to catch the five thirty showing on cartoon network; and even now, I watch it online and own some of the videos. When the show was canceled in America, I parted bitterly and still catch myself drawing those great characters that changed my television experience forever. This poem descrives the main character, Goku, with the shows creator, Akira. Goku is always Earth's last hope and defender: Wonderous, savior, and hero--these all fit the pure-hearted Goku.
Opulent,
Hero of children,
Lord of strength,
Savior,
Thou son of sun,
Sun of our sons,
Waltz-man of imagination,
Became the mustard seed in the hearts of man,
Connected as they brows to eyes,
To the tree of might all have grown to cherish,
Marked by black and gold stalagmites reaching the sky,
To our clouds,
And thou and they hat taken to this flight,
To the zenith of existence,
"Kamehameha!" Solely the utterance is as a bomb to our spirits.
"Kamehameha!" We sing in praise of thee,
Star of glory,
Warrior of light,
Thou art even still...
Our hero.
I picked this poem because Dragonball z dominated my childhood. Ever since third grade, I've rushed home to catch the five thirty showing on cartoon network; and even now, I watch it online and own some of the videos. When the show was canceled in America, I parted bitterly and still catch myself drawing those great characters that changed my television experience forever. This poem descrives the main character, Goku, with the shows creator, Akira. Goku is always Earth's last hope and defender: Wonderous, savior, and hero--these all fit the pure-hearted Goku.
Eldorado
Edgar Allan Poe
Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had journeyed long,
Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.
But he grew old -
This knight so bold -
And o'er his heart a shadow
Fell as he found
No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.
And, as his strength
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow -
"Shadow," said he,
"Where can it be -
This land of Eldorado?"
"Over the mountains
Of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,"
The shade replied -
"If you seek for Eldorado!"
Poe’s use of word choice and rhyme work well to portray this metaphorical journey of man. Whether “gallant knight” is searching for “wealth” or “gold” which is the meaning of Eldorado, or if the metaphor runs deeper to insinuate a search for happiness or even God can be interpreted from his vague language. But the knight never finds what he sets out for and learns from his soul that only death can show him where Eldorado is.
The meaning of the word “shadow” follows the knight on his quest. First the shadow is associated with the sun, second as doubt, third as the knight’s soul, and lastly as death. Funny enough this poem is surprisingly lighthearted with its rhyme scheme, yet it’s meaning suggests that death is how we find true happiness/Eldorado.
I think this poem is successful in its message but also because Poe’s language and rhyme scheme catch us off guard and force us to look deeper at the meaning of the poem.
Samantha Audet
Edgar Allan Poe
Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had journeyed long,
Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.
But he grew old -
This knight so bold -
And o'er his heart a shadow
Fell as he found
No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.
And, as his strength
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow -
"Shadow," said he,
"Where can it be -
This land of Eldorado?"
"Over the mountains
Of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,"
The shade replied -
"If you seek for Eldorado!"
Poe’s use of word choice and rhyme work well to portray this metaphorical journey of man. Whether “gallant knight” is searching for “wealth” or “gold” which is the meaning of Eldorado, or if the metaphor runs deeper to insinuate a search for happiness or even God can be interpreted from his vague language. But the knight never finds what he sets out for and learns from his soul that only death can show him where Eldorado is.
The meaning of the word “shadow” follows the knight on his quest. First the shadow is associated with the sun, second as doubt, third as the knight’s soul, and lastly as death. Funny enough this poem is surprisingly lighthearted with its rhyme scheme, yet it’s meaning suggests that death is how we find true happiness/Eldorado.
I think this poem is successful in its message but also because Poe’s language and rhyme scheme catch us off guard and force us to look deeper at the meaning of the poem.
Samantha Audet
Desiderata
A few years ago I asked a guy what his favorite poem was, I figured he wouldn't have the foggiest idea what I was talking about, moreless come up with anything that I had remotely heard of, he said simply "Desiderata"...I immediately googled it and fell in love with him on the spot...lol...for once I was enthralled by something the opposite sex had suggested...nonetheless what works is that it reads like a positive guide and outlook on life, it's not preachy but very effective. When I was younger I always felt poetry had to rhyme, this does not, yet keeps my attention throughout. I think what we can learn from this piece is that this type of poetry the way it is written makes it quite timeless (it was written in 1927). I think anyone can find something useful in it.
Cindy Davis
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
Cindy Davis
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
The Coventry Carol
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjykMVzFd7g
"The Coventry Carol"
Lully, Lullay
Thou little tiny Child,
By, by, lully, lullay.
O sisters, too, how may we do,
For to preserve this day;
This poor Youngling for whom we sing,
By, by, lully, lullay.
Herod the King, in his raging,
Charged he hath this day;
His men of might, in his own sight,
All young children, to slay.
Then woe is me, poor Child, for Thee,
And ever mourn and say;
For Thy parting, nor say nor sing,
By, by, lully, lullay.
Lully, Lullay
Thou little tiny Child,
By, by, lully, lullay.
By, by, lully, lullay.
By, by, lully, lullay.
Medieval English lyrics are not something of which many people seem to be familiar, especially if they are not of the Roman Catholic or Catholic tradition. This is one of the most famous lyrics, and it incorporates one of the most horrific Biblical narratives of the Nativity: the tale of King Herod's decree that all first born children must be killed, the most prominent of which would be Jesus. Now, I am not a very religious person, but I was raised Roman Catholic, and whenever Christmas rolled around, I would recognize some of these old lyrics. This one always stood out because of its very grim and haunting content.
Mothers are the speakers of this poem – more specifically Mary and other mothers trying to hush their babies to keep them quiet, and therefore alive. There are powerful images and emotions at work here, and I think that is one of the most striking things about these types of poems. When you set powerful words to music, there is a added level of appeal. It worked in the Middle Ages and it still works now.
-Samantha Markey
"The Coventry Carol"
Lully, Lullay
Thou little tiny Child,
By, by, lully, lullay.
O sisters, too, how may we do,
For to preserve this day;
This poor Youngling for whom we sing,
By, by, lully, lullay.
Herod the King, in his raging,
Charged he hath this day;
His men of might, in his own sight,
All young children, to slay.
Then woe is me, poor Child, for Thee,
And ever mourn and say;
For Thy parting, nor say nor sing,
By, by, lully, lullay.
Lully, Lullay
Thou little tiny Child,
By, by, lully, lullay.
By, by, lully, lullay.
By, by, lully, lullay.
Medieval English lyrics are not something of which many people seem to be familiar, especially if they are not of the Roman Catholic or Catholic tradition. This is one of the most famous lyrics, and it incorporates one of the most horrific Biblical narratives of the Nativity: the tale of King Herod's decree that all first born children must be killed, the most prominent of which would be Jesus. Now, I am not a very religious person, but I was raised Roman Catholic, and whenever Christmas rolled around, I would recognize some of these old lyrics. This one always stood out because of its very grim and haunting content.
Mothers are the speakers of this poem – more specifically Mary and other mothers trying to hush their babies to keep them quiet, and therefore alive. There are powerful images and emotions at work here, and I think that is one of the most striking things about these types of poems. When you set powerful words to music, there is a added level of appeal. It worked in the Middle Ages and it still works now.
-Samantha Markey
Tears by Michael Madsen
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zqbt8Juo9tE
It is a video of Madsen reading his poem.
I like Madsen’s poem because it is blunt. I like things that are straightforward; I get the feeling that that’s a mid-west thing. He manages to convey emotion using lists of life experiences instead of describing the feeling itself. This causes the reader, or watcher, to force himself/herself to evaluate the information and find the emotion, rather than having the emotion provided for you. I also enjoy the poem because I can relate to some of the things he speaks about, as well as the overall tone of the poem. I think that being able to relate to a piece of poetry is the only way it can truly move you. If I read a poem about being a woman, being gay, or going through some life experience I haven’t been treated to, then the poem generally doesn’t speak to me, because there is none of me in it. Poems have a narrow audience, because they generally convey emotion rather than ideal or a story. It’s a lot like when a child in a community is lost. The people who feel most for the situation are people with children; it’s not that childless people don’t feel for the situation, they just can’t relate to it. Hearing the actual author read the poem also shows how being able to relate to the piece is key. Every word and phrase has meaning and emphasis to him, every number on the list is part of a larger story. A reader who has been to jail pictures themselves there when Madsen speaks of taking a shit in front of other men. You can imagine the setting and create a fictional account of how it would feel, but it is not as effective as it is for those who have experienced that actual feeling.
I have only ever found myself enjoying a poem when I can relate to it. I feel that is the most important part of poetry, relating to the emotion.
D. Ryan
It is a video of Madsen reading his poem.
I like Madsen’s poem because it is blunt. I like things that are straightforward; I get the feeling that that’s a mid-west thing. He manages to convey emotion using lists of life experiences instead of describing the feeling itself. This causes the reader, or watcher, to force himself/herself to evaluate the information and find the emotion, rather than having the emotion provided for you. I also enjoy the poem because I can relate to some of the things he speaks about, as well as the overall tone of the poem. I think that being able to relate to a piece of poetry is the only way it can truly move you. If I read a poem about being a woman, being gay, or going through some life experience I haven’t been treated to, then the poem generally doesn’t speak to me, because there is none of me in it. Poems have a narrow audience, because they generally convey emotion rather than ideal or a story. It’s a lot like when a child in a community is lost. The people who feel most for the situation are people with children; it’s not that childless people don’t feel for the situation, they just can’t relate to it. Hearing the actual author read the poem also shows how being able to relate to the piece is key. Every word and phrase has meaning and emphasis to him, every number on the list is part of a larger story. A reader who has been to jail pictures themselves there when Madsen speaks of taking a shit in front of other men. You can imagine the setting and create a fictional account of how it would feel, but it is not as effective as it is for those who have experienced that actual feeling.
I have only ever found myself enjoying a poem when I can relate to it. I feel that is the most important part of poetry, relating to the emotion.
D. Ryan
The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
-Emma Lazarus, The New Colossus
November 1883
This sonnet follows the Petrarchan (Italian) form, with a small twist at the end. Petrarchan sonnets were broken up into two sections, the octave and the sestet. These sonnets followed strict rules, using a "a b b a, a b b a" rhyme scheme of the last word in the line for the octave, and a "c d e, c d e" scheme for the sestet. What's interesting is how the form changes in the sestet to "c d c, d c." This draws the readers attention and has them read into the sonnet more critically.
As one can guess, this is a sonnet about the Statue of Liberty. It can now be seen engraved on the pedestal on which she stands. The old Colossus refers to the Greek God Helios, who was a 100 foot statue guarding Rhodes, and was one of the seven wonders of the world. The New Colossus, our Statue of Liberty, is not guarding the shores of America, but is a beacon for those oppressed in their mother countries and a welcoming light to the world.
As the form of the Petrarchan sonnet changes in the sestet, so does the tone of the sonnet. "Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she, is like a cry of insult or 'up yours' to the world. We all know the "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free..." This change of form and content go hand in hand. It is like saying, to hell with the traditional rules of "c d e, c d e" as well as to hell with the rest of the world. We, America, will follow our own rules and welcome all those who wish to start a new life. However, it still follows a "c d c, d c d" form, which can be seen as though Americans are breaking traditions, life in America will not be full of anarchy and chaos.
The use of such powerful imagery, "imprisoned lightning," "sea-washed, sunset gates," "golden door" all help move this sonnet, stir up emotions, and convey to the world that America is the place to be. It is interesting to also note, that a true sonnet follows a strict five beats of unstressed, stressed words per line. I have incredible respect for how difficult it would be to write such a poem. However, this does not until the very last line, which draws the readers attention again as to why the author did this. It is this last line that pretty much sums up the whole sonnet and message, that the Statue of Liberty welcomes the refuse of the world, lifting up her lamp beside the golden door of America, with the idea that anything is possible in this land.
Jae Khoury
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
-Emma Lazarus, The New Colossus
November 1883
This sonnet follows the Petrarchan (Italian) form, with a small twist at the end. Petrarchan sonnets were broken up into two sections, the octave and the sestet. These sonnets followed strict rules, using a "a b b a, a b b a" rhyme scheme of the last word in the line for the octave, and a "c d e, c d e" scheme for the sestet. What's interesting is how the form changes in the sestet to "c d c, d c." This draws the readers attention and has them read into the sonnet more critically.
As one can guess, this is a sonnet about the Statue of Liberty. It can now be seen engraved on the pedestal on which she stands. The old Colossus refers to the Greek God Helios, who was a 100 foot statue guarding Rhodes, and was one of the seven wonders of the world. The New Colossus, our Statue of Liberty, is not guarding the shores of America, but is a beacon for those oppressed in their mother countries and a welcoming light to the world.
As the form of the Petrarchan sonnet changes in the sestet, so does the tone of the sonnet. "Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she, is like a cry of insult or 'up yours' to the world. We all know the "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free..." This change of form and content go hand in hand. It is like saying, to hell with the traditional rules of "c d e, c d e" as well as to hell with the rest of the world. We, America, will follow our own rules and welcome all those who wish to start a new life. However, it still follows a "c d c, d c d" form, which can be seen as though Americans are breaking traditions, life in America will not be full of anarchy and chaos.
The use of such powerful imagery, "imprisoned lightning," "sea-washed, sunset gates," "golden door" all help move this sonnet, stir up emotions, and convey to the world that America is the place to be. It is interesting to also note, that a true sonnet follows a strict five beats of unstressed, stressed words per line. I have incredible respect for how difficult it would be to write such a poem. However, this does not until the very last line, which draws the readers attention again as to why the author did this. It is this last line that pretty much sums up the whole sonnet and message, that the Statue of Liberty welcomes the refuse of the world, lifting up her lamp beside the golden door of America, with the idea that anything is possible in this land.
Jae Khoury
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