I enjoy this poem mostly for its message and description.
The description of the first sestet is fluid and flowing. Words such as "undulant," "glides," and "ripple" provide this effect, which brings to mind either the desert wind or an oasis (at least it does for me due to the Middle-Eastern, or possibly Indian, setting). These comparisons are interesting, and each lends a different atmosphere to the poem. Not necessarily a change in mood, but a shift in the "color" of the poem, I guess. That's the best phrasing I have for it. I also thoroughly appreciated the ABBACC rhyme scheme of both sestets: it's an unusual style of rhyme that provides relaxation in the first part of the stanza that pushes forward with rhythmic intensity in the second.
The poem's message is uplifting and at the same time saddening—that the people who hold the most strength are those who have fought against adversity. Struggle has a strong impact on a person's resolve of character, and the speaker, having lived his life of privilege, observes this. (With a name like Stallworthy, I'm inferring the author has not lived in the unindustrialized squalor described and that the speaker is an outsider looking in.)
I was feeling very depressed tonight, and this poem seems to have put my head back on straight. I'm glad I read this.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
"The Golf Links" by Sarah N. Cleghorn
The power of this poem comes from the irony of its subject matter along with its resemblance to nursery rhymes.
According to the years Sarah N. Cleghorn lived, this poem almost assuredly centers on the child labor that resulted from the American Industrial Revolution in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. However, the poem still has meaning today, for corporate heads still live lives of leisure while exploiting poor children in less developed countries, mainly in sweatshops. The irony of this concept is blatant and rather infuriating: it is an almost demanded quality of the middle and lower classes to be offended and angered by the often exploitative and corrupt actions of the upper class. Also, you'd be hard pressed to find any person that admits (or at least openly admits) to condoning child slavery or labor. However, the irony doesn't stem from these infuriating aspects of the poem; it exists within the reversal of the traditional societal roles of children and adults. That men should play while children labor is a foreign concept, which causes readers to pause and examine how they really feel about the treatment of children in certain areas and whether their own actions benefit or hurt these unfortunate souls.
As for the power of a somewhat nursery-rhyme format (a quatrain with ABCB rhyme scheme), it has a similar effect to how "For a Lady I Know" by Countee Cullen uses the format (which I discussed in an earlier blog). The lighthearted nature of this poem style illustrates the resignation children in the described situation feel; it exemplifies their acceptance of their role and depression at the fact that many have come before them and many will after as the trend of child labor has become a fact of their lives and society.
According to the years Sarah N. Cleghorn lived, this poem almost assuredly centers on the child labor that resulted from the American Industrial Revolution in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. However, the poem still has meaning today, for corporate heads still live lives of leisure while exploiting poor children in less developed countries, mainly in sweatshops. The irony of this concept is blatant and rather infuriating: it is an almost demanded quality of the middle and lower classes to be offended and angered by the often exploitative and corrupt actions of the upper class. Also, you'd be hard pressed to find any person that admits (or at least openly admits) to condoning child slavery or labor. However, the irony doesn't stem from these infuriating aspects of the poem; it exists within the reversal of the traditional societal roles of children and adults. That men should play while children labor is a foreign concept, which causes readers to pause and examine how they really feel about the treatment of children in certain areas and whether their own actions benefit or hurt these unfortunate souls.
As for the power of a somewhat nursery-rhyme format (a quatrain with ABCB rhyme scheme), it has a similar effect to how "For a Lady I Know" by Countee Cullen uses the format (which I discussed in an earlier blog). The lighthearted nature of this poem style illustrates the resignation children in the described situation feel; it exemplifies their acceptance of their role and depression at the fact that many have come before them and many will after as the trend of child labor has become a fact of their lives and society.
"Writing" by Jan Dean
This poem is striking in both its style and content and is one of my most favorite selections from these poetry packets.
The poem's style is quite unique, distinctly in two certain facets. First, the poem doesn't read like a poem. Yes, the text possesses a certain flow and several poetic refrains of key words and phrases in the first stanza, but without rhyme scheme, meter, structure, or explicit lyricality, the poem reads as a story in the first stanza and a conversation in the second. (Note: "lyricality" should be a word.) This decision of Dean's makes the horrifying tale described by the young child far more real to the reader; the words frighten and move the reader on a personal level. This in turn makes the anger experienced by readers during the second stanza surprisingly intense because we sympathize with and want to comfort the child of the first stanza, which the teacher fails to do whatsoever.
The second unique aspect of Jan Dean's style is that "Writing" is one of, if not the, most understated and realistic poem I have read. The situation described is not fantastical or poetical but grounded in reality, and the poem needs no complex diction or syntax to leave impact on the reader, in fact using confusing and purposefully incorrect diction. Dean places endless trust in the power of his content to shape the reader's reaction to it. He doesn't strive to achieve impact but rather lets it occur.
The poem's style is quite unique, distinctly in two certain facets. First, the poem doesn't read like a poem. Yes, the text possesses a certain flow and several poetic refrains of key words and phrases in the first stanza, but without rhyme scheme, meter, structure, or explicit lyricality, the poem reads as a story in the first stanza and a conversation in the second. (Note: "lyricality" should be a word.) This decision of Dean's makes the horrifying tale described by the young child far more real to the reader; the words frighten and move the reader on a personal level. This in turn makes the anger experienced by readers during the second stanza surprisingly intense because we sympathize with and want to comfort the child of the first stanza, which the teacher fails to do whatsoever.
The second unique aspect of Jan Dean's style is that "Writing" is one of, if not the, most understated and realistic poem I have read. The situation described is not fantastical or poetical but grounded in reality, and the poem needs no complex diction or syntax to leave impact on the reader, in fact using confusing and purposefully incorrect diction. Dean places endless trust in the power of his content to shape the reader's reaction to it. He doesn't strive to achieve impact but rather lets it occur.
"For a Lady I Know" by Countee Cullen
After my first couple readings of this poem, I was almost positive that its themes ran along racial lines, but I wasn't convinced. To decide, I researched the author on Wikipedia, discovering that he was black and a proponent of the Harlem Renaissance. That gave me suitable justification for my earlier assumptions.
The structure of this poem consists of a quatrain utilizing an ABAB rhyme scheme. What's effective about this format is that it possesses a childish quality, reminiscent of nursery rhymes, which is disturbing when the content of the poem is considered. It proposes that racism has became a natural truth of life that even children learn and that no one any longer recognizes its horrors, lulled into acceptance by racism's prevalence and ubiquity.
The actual meaning of this poem, to me, is interpretable in two distinct ways. The first considers the "she" referred to in the poem as a white woman. In this case, the poem states that white society believes even in heaven it lives a life of luxury while blacks perform their same menial duties. This interpretation adds a bit of dry humor to the poem: not only do whites think that something as unjust as racism will persist in heaven but that they will be rewarded for their prejudicial actions on earth. Now, the second interpretation has the "she" of the poem being a black woman. The poem's meaning and mood now shift to ones of despair and hopelessness. The optimistic blacks believe that even though racism pervades their earthly lives, they will receive their vindication in heaven. However, the older and wiser blacks know that in reality their people will remain the servant class even in death. The second interpretation affects me more than the first because of its resounding bleakness.
The structure of this poem consists of a quatrain utilizing an ABAB rhyme scheme. What's effective about this format is that it possesses a childish quality, reminiscent of nursery rhymes, which is disturbing when the content of the poem is considered. It proposes that racism has became a natural truth of life that even children learn and that no one any longer recognizes its horrors, lulled into acceptance by racism's prevalence and ubiquity.
The actual meaning of this poem, to me, is interpretable in two distinct ways. The first considers the "she" referred to in the poem as a white woman. In this case, the poem states that white society believes even in heaven it lives a life of luxury while blacks perform their same menial duties. This interpretation adds a bit of dry humor to the poem: not only do whites think that something as unjust as racism will persist in heaven but that they will be rewarded for their prejudicial actions on earth. Now, the second interpretation has the "she" of the poem being a black woman. The poem's meaning and mood now shift to ones of despair and hopelessness. The optimistic blacks believe that even though racism pervades their earthly lives, they will receive their vindication in heaven. However, the older and wiser blacks know that in reality their people will remain the servant class even in death. The second interpretation affects me more than the first because of its resounding bleakness.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
"Turning Pro" by Ishmael Reed
I really enjoyed this poem because it doesn't read like a poem. It reads like a well written speech—the kind that starts a "slow clap" in inspirational movies. The seemingly random enjambment of the lines and lack of rhyme scheme or defined meter make the poem read as if the author is imagining "that speech" he will make.
The simple language and use of jargon solidifies the feeling that the author is an old veteran of the baseball game that's telling the reader this tale. You sympathize with him because he's not embellishing his diction or syntax and doesn't use clever turns of phrase; Reed's words hold a resounding rawness to them because of this.
And Reed's character is so endearing! He embodies attitudes that we've all felt at one time or another. That we've become obsolete; that our time has passed; that maybe we never had any talent to begin with. Through this, we more than sympathize with Reed's character; we empathize with him. Personal, human connection is a powerful thing, and it allows us to feel such joy for the narrator when his moment of glory arrives.
The simple language and use of jargon solidifies the feeling that the author is an old veteran of the baseball game that's telling the reader this tale. You sympathize with him because he's not embellishing his diction or syntax and doesn't use clever turns of phrase; Reed's words hold a resounding rawness to them because of this.
And Reed's character is so endearing! He embodies attitudes that we've all felt at one time or another. That we've become obsolete; that our time has passed; that maybe we never had any talent to begin with. Through this, we more than sympathize with Reed's character; we empathize with him. Personal, human connection is a powerful thing, and it allows us to feel such joy for the narrator when his moment of glory arrives.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
"The Hat Lady" by Linda Pastan
This poem was interesting in that the mood was so lighthearted through the first three octaves but then became so unsettlingly bleak in the last. The emotions in this poem come from the wealth of unique description and continuous motif of hats.
To understand some of the references in the text, I researched what some of the hats mentioned looked like. After seeing the general style amongst them, the first three stanzas provided me a very mid- to early-20th century vibe—relaxed and classy. However, the allusion of the Hat Lady to Saint Sebastian was a little eerie and perhaps should have prepared me more for the shift in tone in the last stanza.
The last octave surprised me with how abrupt it changes the direction of the poem. The author appears to describe her mother leaving for the hospital and later the cemetery ("where my father and grandfather waited, head to bare head") after experiencing what I believe to be chemotherapy. Since Pastan was born in 1932, chemo seems a possible explanation. Earlier in the poem, the Hat Lady simply represents that—a woman who sells hats. However, in the last stanza, I believe the Hat Lady becomes a nurse because she wears "a bracelet of needles." Also, nurses wore those little white hats in the early 1900s.
I don't know exactly what the significance of hats are as a symbol, but the author obviously holds some deep connection to them.
To understand some of the references in the text, I researched what some of the hats mentioned looked like. After seeing the general style amongst them, the first three stanzas provided me a very mid- to early-20th century vibe—relaxed and classy. However, the allusion of the Hat Lady to Saint Sebastian was a little eerie and perhaps should have prepared me more for the shift in tone in the last stanza.
The last octave surprised me with how abrupt it changes the direction of the poem. The author appears to describe her mother leaving for the hospital and later the cemetery ("where my father and grandfather waited, head to bare head") after experiencing what I believe to be chemotherapy. Since Pastan was born in 1932, chemo seems a possible explanation. Earlier in the poem, the Hat Lady simply represents that—a woman who sells hats. However, in the last stanza, I believe the Hat Lady becomes a nurse because she wears "a bracelet of needles." Also, nurses wore those little white hats in the early 1900s.
I don't know exactly what the significance of hats are as a symbol, but the author obviously holds some deep connection to them.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
"Goodbye to the Little Things" (Own Poem)
I'll miss the "big tree,"
gnarled and massive,
three stems extending upward
in an impregnable triangle.
I'll miss how it wasn't scary
or frightening,
with branches untouchable
except perhaps by the feathery
grasp of clouds.
I'll miss the cloven stump
that shattered the unbreakable triangle,
that still to me displays a drawn-on Pokéball,
not a peace sign.
***
I'll remember the glistening expanse
of the lake down the road
and how it left
as my family packed tight
the wood-paneled green van,
drew down the tacky blinds
over the windows,
and accelerated.
I'll remember its silent reassurance,
the calming gray of the white-capped waves
on ominous days,
that sprayed up in spouts
finer than on any blue,
placid afternoon.
***
I'll remember it left me for a time.
***
I'll recall the dusty, rolling fields
that replaced it,
accompanied by a soundtrack
of whirring bicycle tires
moving never quite fast
so as to merely drone over
the exhausting resonance of silence.
***
I'll recall,
I'll remember,
I'll miss,
the small town with so many faces.
So many different faces.
gnarled and massive,
three stems extending upward
in an impregnable triangle.
I'll miss how it wasn't scary
or frightening,
with branches untouchable
except perhaps by the feathery
grasp of clouds.
I'll miss the cloven stump
that shattered the unbreakable triangle,
that still to me displays a drawn-on Pokéball,
not a peace sign.
***
I'll remember the glistening expanse
of the lake down the road
and how it left
as my family packed tight
the wood-paneled green van,
drew down the tacky blinds
over the windows,
and accelerated.
I'll remember its silent reassurance,
the calming gray of the white-capped waves
on ominous days,
that sprayed up in spouts
finer than on any blue,
placid afternoon.
***
I'll remember it left me for a time.
***
I'll recall the dusty, rolling fields
that replaced it,
accompanied by a soundtrack
of whirring bicycle tires
moving never quite fast
so as to merely drone over
the exhausting resonance of silence.
***
I'll recall,
I'll remember,
I'll miss,
the small town with so many faces.
So many different faces.
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