Sharon Olds
"George Gray"
by Edgar Lee Masters
I have studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me—
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire—
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.
“The B Network”
by Haki Madhubuti
I have studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me—
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire—
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.
“The B Network”
by Haki Madhubuti
brothers bop & pop and be-bop in cities locked up
and chained insane by crack and other acts
of desperation computerized in pentagon cellars producing
boppin brothers boastin of being better, best & beautiful.
if the boppin brothers are beautiful where are the sisters
who seek brotherman with a drugless head unbossed or beaten
by the bodacious West?
in a time of big wind being blown by boastful brothers,
will other brothers beat back backwardness to better & best
without braggart bosses beatin butts,
takin names and diggin graves?
beatin badness into bad may be urban but is it beautiful & serious?
or is it betrayal in an era of prepared easy death hangin on
corners trappin young brothers before they know the
difference between big death and big life?
brothers bop & pop and be-bop in cities locked up
and chained insane by crack and other acts
of desperation computerized in pentagon cellars producing
boppin brothers boastin of being better, best, beautiful
and definitely not Black.
the critical best is that
brothers better be the best if they are to avoid backwardness
brothers better be the best if they are to conquer beautiful bigness
Comprehend that bad is only bad if it’s big, Black and better
than boastful braggarts belittling our best and brightest
with bosses seeking inches when miles are better.
brothers need to bop to being Black & bright above board
the black train of beautiful wisdom that is bending this bind
toward a new & knowledgeable beginning that is
bountiful & bountiful & beautiful
While be-boppin to be
better than the test,
brotherman.
better yet write the exam.
"The History Teacher"
by Billy Collins
Trying to protect his students' innocence
he told them the Ice Age was really just
the Chilly Age, a period of a million years
when everyone had to wear sweaters.
And the Stone Age became the Gravel Age,
named after the long driveways of the time.
The Spanish Inquisition was nothing more
than an outbreak of questions such as
"How far is it from here to Madrid?"
"What do you call the matador's hat?"
The War of the Roses took place in a garden,
and the Enola Gay dropped one tiny atom
on Japan.
The children would leave his classroom
for the playground to torment the weak
and the smart,
mussing up their hair and breaking their glasses,
while he gathered up his notes and walked home
past flower beds and white picket fences,
wondering if they would believe that soldiers
in the Boer War told long, rambling stories
designed to make the enemy nod off.
"First Hour"
by Sharon Olds
That hour, I was most myself. I had shrugged
my mother slowly off, I lay there
taking my first breaths, as if
the air of the room was blowing me
like a bubble. All I had to do
was go out along the line of my gaze and back,
feeling gravity, silk, the
pressure of the air a caress, smelling on
myself her creamy blood. The air
was softly touching my skin and mouth,
entering me and drawing forth the little
sighs I did not know as mine.
I was not afraid. I lay in the quiet
and looked, and did the wordless thought,
my mind was getting its oxygen
direct, the rich mix by mouth.
I hated no one. I gazed and gazed,
and everything was interesting, I was
free, not yet in love, I did not
belong to anyone, I had drunk
no milk yet—no one had
my heart. I was not very human. I did not
know there was anyone else. I lay
like a god, for an hour, then they came for me
and took me to my mother.
Trying to protect his students' innocence
he told them the Ice Age was really just
the Chilly Age, a period of a million years
when everyone had to wear sweaters.
And the Stone Age became the Gravel Age,
named after the long driveways of the time.
The Spanish Inquisition was nothing more
than an outbreak of questions such as
"How far is it from here to Madrid?"
"What do you call the matador's hat?"
The War of the Roses took place in a garden,
and the Enola Gay dropped one tiny atom
on Japan.
The children would leave his classroom
for the playground to torment the weak
and the smart,
mussing up their hair and breaking their glasses,
while he gathered up his notes and walked home
past flower beds and white picket fences,
wondering if they would believe that soldiers
in the Boer War told long, rambling stories
designed to make the enemy nod off.
"First Hour"
by Sharon Olds
That hour, I was most myself. I had shrugged
my mother slowly off, I lay there
taking my first breaths, as if
the air of the room was blowing me
like a bubble. All I had to do
was go out along the line of my gaze and back,
feeling gravity, silk, the
pressure of the air a caress, smelling on
myself her creamy blood. The air
was softly touching my skin and mouth,
entering me and drawing forth the little
sighs I did not know as mine.
I was not afraid. I lay in the quiet
and looked, and did the wordless thought,
my mind was getting its oxygen
direct, the rich mix by mouth.
I hated no one. I gazed and gazed,
and everything was interesting, I was
free, not yet in love, I did not
belong to anyone, I had drunk
no milk yet—no one had
my heart. I was not very human. I did not
know there was anyone else. I lay
like a god, for an hour, then they came for me
and took me to my mother.
"The Quest"
by Sharon Olds
The day my girl is lost for an hour,
the day I think she is gone forever and then I find her,
I sit with her a while and then I
go to the corner store for orange juice for her
lips, tongue, palate, throat,
stomach, blood, every gold cell of her body.
I joke around with the guy behind the counter, I
walk out into the winter air and
weep. I know he would never hurt her,
would never take her body in his hands to
crack it or crush it, would keep her safe and
bring her home to me. Yet there are
those who would. I pass the huge
cockeyed buildings, massive as prisons,
charged, loaded, cocked with people,
some who would love to take my girl, to un-
do her, fine strand by fine
strand. These are buildings full of rope,
ironing boards, sash, wire,
iron cords wove in black-and-blue spirals like
umbilici, apartments supplied with
razor blades and lye. This is my
quest, to know where it is, the evil in the
human heart. As I walk home I
look in face after face for it, I
see the dark beauty, the rage, the
grown-up children of the city she walks as a
child, a raw target. I cannot
see a soul who would do it. I clutch the
jar of juice like a cold heart,
remembering the time my parents tied me to a chair and
would not feed me and I looked up
into their beautiful faces, my stomach a
bright mace, my wrists like birds the
shrike has hung up by the throat from barbed wire, I
gazed as deep as I could into their eyes
and all I saw was goodness, I could not get past it.
I rush home with the blood of oranges
pressed to my breast, I cannot get it to her fast enough.
"It’s a Woman’s World"
by Eavan Boland
Our way of life
has hardly changed
since a wheel first
whetted a knife.
Maybe flame
burns more greedily
and wheels are steadier,
but we're the same:
we milestone
our lives
with oversights,
living by the lights
of the loaf left
by the cash register,
the washing powder
paid for and wrapped,
the wash left wet:
like most historic peoples
we are defined
by what we forget
and what we never will be:
star-gazers,
fire-eaters.
It's our alibi
for all time:
as far as history goes
we were never
on the scene of the crime.
When the king's head
gored its basket,
grim harvest,
we were gristing bread
or getting the recipe
for a good soup.
It's still the same:
our windows
moth our children
to the flame
of hearth not history.
And still no page
scores the low music
of our outrage.
Appearances reassure:
that woman there,
craned to
the starry mystery,
is merely getting a breath
of evening air.
While this one here,
her mouth a burning plume -
she's no fire-eater,
just my frosty neighbour
coming home.
by Sharon Olds
The day my girl is lost for an hour,
the day I think she is gone forever and then I find her,
I sit with her a while and then I
go to the corner store for orange juice for her
lips, tongue, palate, throat,
stomach, blood, every gold cell of her body.
I joke around with the guy behind the counter, I
walk out into the winter air and
weep. I know he would never hurt her,
would never take her body in his hands to
crack it or crush it, would keep her safe and
bring her home to me. Yet there are
those who would. I pass the huge
cockeyed buildings, massive as prisons,
charged, loaded, cocked with people,
some who would love to take my girl, to un-
do her, fine strand by fine
strand. These are buildings full of rope,
ironing boards, sash, wire,
iron cords wove in black-and-blue spirals like
umbilici, apartments supplied with
razor blades and lye. This is my
quest, to know where it is, the evil in the
human heart. As I walk home I
look in face after face for it, I
see the dark beauty, the rage, the
grown-up children of the city she walks as a
child, a raw target. I cannot
see a soul who would do it. I clutch the
jar of juice like a cold heart,
remembering the time my parents tied me to a chair and
would not feed me and I looked up
into their beautiful faces, my stomach a
bright mace, my wrists like birds the
shrike has hung up by the throat from barbed wire, I
gazed as deep as I could into their eyes
and all I saw was goodness, I could not get past it.
I rush home with the blood of oranges
pressed to my breast, I cannot get it to her fast enough.
"It’s a Woman’s World"
by Eavan Boland
Our way of life
has hardly changed
since a wheel first
whetted a knife.
Maybe flame
burns more greedily
and wheels are steadier,
but we're the same:
we milestone
our lives
with oversights,
living by the lights
of the loaf left
by the cash register,
the washing powder
paid for and wrapped,
the wash left wet:
like most historic peoples
we are defined
by what we forget
and what we never will be:
star-gazers,
fire-eaters.
It's our alibi
for all time:
as far as history goes
we were never
on the scene of the crime.
When the king's head
gored its basket,
grim harvest,
we were gristing bread
or getting the recipe
for a good soup.
It's still the same:
our windows
moth our children
to the flame
of hearth not history.
And still no page
scores the low music
of our outrage.
Appearances reassure:
that woman there,
craned to
the starry mystery,
is merely getting a breath
of evening air.
While this one here,
her mouth a burning plume -
she's no fire-eater,
just my frosty neighbour
coming home.
“The Red Wheelbarrow”
by William Carlos Williams
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
"anyhow"
by eric pellerin
is that my stillborn son in aisle 3
feet falling free
from the cart pushed by
daddy
he wants something he cant grab
just out of reach
can hardly see it now
what was it
anyhow
rounding the corner
gone
"The Two-headed Calf"
by Laura Gilpin
Tomorrow when the farm boys find this
freak of nature, they will wrap his body
in newspaper and carry him to the museum.
But tonight he is alive and in the north
field with his mother. It is a perfect
summer evening: the moon rising over
the orchard, the wind in the grass. And
as he stares into the sky, there are
twice as many stars as usual.
by eric pellerin
is that my stillborn son in aisle 3
feet falling free
from the cart pushed by
daddy
he wants something he cant grab
just out of reach
can hardly see it now
what was it
anyhow
rounding the corner
gone
"The Two-headed Calf"
by Laura Gilpin
Tomorrow when the farm boys find this
freak of nature, they will wrap his body
in newspaper and carry him to the museum.
But tonight he is alive and in the north
field with his mother. It is a perfect
summer evening: the moon rising over
the orchard, the wind in the grass. And
as he stares into the sky, there are
twice as many stars as usual.
Billy Collins
I felt that “The Quest” by Sharon Olds was very moving and was a poem that was written with so much vulnerable heart and soul. I thought it was very effective how Olds uses commas and/ or periods to break up each different thought that goes through her head. The very short and blunt thoughts that rapidly come one after another convey a strong sense of worry and hecticness which is probably what she was feeling after she lost her daughter. I also thought that her use of figurative language was very vivid. I like her metaphor of buying her daughter orange juice, for “every gold cell of her body” and how her child all alone walk around “a raw target”. You get the sense that she really cares a lot about her child just by the way that she gives the child such a precious and god-like description. The only thing that I have trouble with while reading the poem is where the lines end and start. To me they seemed kind of random and I don’t know if there is a specific why she ends each line where she does and I hope that it can be cleared up for my by a classmate or teacher during our next lit class. Or maybe I’m just overthinking the situation? I’m not too sure…
ReplyDeleteAnother poem that I adored was “The Red Wheelbarrow” by William Carlos Williams. So it’s quite interesting because the first time that I actually read this poem was in the 4th grade. It’s something that when I first read it, it didn’t bring any significance to mind. Though I remember when my teacher told us to illustrate this poem it was a rather easy task to do. This poem is so simple but creates SUCH A VIVID IMAGE IN MY MIND THAT IS SO EASY TO PICTURE BECAUSE OF ITS SIMPLICITY. Sorry for that random outburst but I think that this is something that is quite overlooked in poetry. Simple everyday happenings and events can be so touching and beautiful. I remember being able to draw a bright and vibrant wheelbarrow with glistening rain drops all over it like icing on a cake. I also drew some happy little chickens with fluffy, delicate white feathers. They were on a peaceful green and luscious farm in the early hours of the morning as the sun rose and the dew glistened over the red wheelbarrow and the chickens enjoyed a light breakfast by it. It is so simple yet so satisfying and pleasant to think about and visualize. The fact that there are hundreds of red wheelbarrows with chickens walking around it every morning on pretty, peaceful farms makes me happy too. I’m happy that there are such pleasurable simple moments in this world.
I definitely think that with the amount of poems and writings that we as students are supposed to squeeze every possible meaning out of, "The Red Wheelbarrow" is certainly refreshing in its simplicity. Counter intuitively, I enjoyed how you DIDN'T go into any "deep" analysis on the poem, but rather just noted how its clear imagery made you happy. It evoked emotion, it doesn't have to be layered or multifaceted in order to do that, and I think that's great.
DeleteIt's funny because like so many, I never understood the purpose of this poem, but I guess know I realize that it just has to do with the simplicity of like, like you mentioned. I felt that I lot of these poems had a theme of simplicity, not necessarily in meaning, but in language and structure, they were more attainable. However, Williams' poem was so simply, beyond any of the others, that it is superficially hard to understand. I have to learn to be more appreciative of the small things, and look less toward monumental.
DeleteI was intrigued by the way you thought about "The Quest"! I asked myself the same question about why the lines end where they do, and I noticed that each one never really ends. They continue to introduce a thought, either with a comma, pronoun, or "and", "then", etc. It emphasizes the anxiety she feels around her daughter and her safety in general. We're forced to read it in quick succession, jumping from line to line, just as she jumps through her thoughts
DeleteAlso you've got to admit that the name William Carlos Williams is a super cool name and fun to say too :)
ReplyDeleteThe two poems that stuck out to me were “The History Teacher” and “First Hours”. These two poems stuck out to me for very different reasons. “The History Teacher” by Billy Collins was a poem that dealt in hyperbole and sarcasm. I was drawn to this piece because of the conversation that it can start. While it is clear that the teacher does not actually teach that the stone age was the age of gravel driveways, every joke has a grain of truth. For instance the Ice Age was a time of extreme cold that resulted in the deaths of many things. However, children are not told this because they cannot handle the truth. This idea of “softening the blow” of the truth splits me in two. While I know that some children are not ready to learn about the savageness that once was, there is a point at which they must be told the truth, and if we are going to tell the truth at some point, what is the point of telling made up history? The phrase “a farm upstate” has become somewhat of a cliche, but it still has a purpose. To wrap up my reaction to this poem, I would ask the one question: When is the right time to teach the whole truth?
ReplyDeleteThe poem “First Hours” resounds with me for a different reason than “The History Teacher”. “First Hours” made me think about something that I had never thought about before. I have never thought about the period in my life that I had no experience, and held no opinions. This blank slate is an amazing thing to think about. Personally, the line that made the poem powerful was “I hated no one.” Those four words may seem small, but they are the turning point in the poem. In that line the poem goes from a physical description to a thought provoking conversation. This concept of purity is one that is not discussed enough in today’s society. Everyone is expected to have an opinion; to have certain dislikes and likes. If a person claims the “middle road” they are attacked from both sides. However, the powerful of a neutral opinion is undervalued, and this poem exposed this. I was drawn to this poem because of the conversation it has the ability to create.
It is no coincidence that the poem is titled "The History Teacher" because as we discussed earlier this year, in history classes over the years we often learn the same things except each year the teacher omits less and less and eventually we learn what is perceived to be the truth. This poem serves as an example of the lies or truths that have been bent as a way to "protect innocence" in the youth in our country so that people can come together at an early age instead of dividing.
DeleteWhen I heard the 20th century poems for the first time I noticed it was easy to create a clear image of the issue the poets were trying to present and I enjoyed taking away my own meaning of each of them. In the poem, “George Gray,” Edgar Lee Masters was able to apply the crippling fear we have all experienced to a boat that cannot leave the harbor. I interpreted this poem to warn us of the lack of purpose a life led by fear produces. Masters is presenting the idea that we rarely allow ourselves to take risks and open ourselves up to the unexpected, because we cannot let go of the fear of making mistakes. Learning from our own mistakes and moving away from the safety of our everyday lives is the only way to find our own individual meaning. I saw a contrast of Master’s point in “The History Teacher,” by Billy Collins. Collins presents a teacher who chooses to create ignorance in his students in order to protect them from the painful reality he doesn’t think is necessary to learn. He is trying to prove that we must learn our history to prevent the repetition of mistakes and to understand people other than ourselves. Do we rely on learning the mistakes of others or do we have to learn by our own experiences?
ReplyDeleteBy taking another look at the poems we read in class I got a chance to see what they were really saying and I got a chance to find their message. I saw how they connected to themes present today and I really like that because it shows that the authors could form them very well. The ones that I wanted to take a closer look at were the shorter ones. Yes I did chose them because they were short but I liked the challenge of picking through the words and finding the hidden message. For Instance, Red Wheelbarrow I like how I had to go in depth and I could really see the imagery in the poem where all is present. I also like how it’s very short so every word is meaningful, which means that each word has a job to do so the poem can be complete. The one by mr. Pellerin I like as well because not only is it short and easy to read you can also connect with it on a personal level. I like the simplicity of the two poems because they convey a great message that isn’t shadowed by a ton of words like there may be in other poems. I also like billy collins poems just because he is a great writer and he knows what he is doing. He can perfectly portray whatever he wants and I just love that about the way he writes.
ReplyDeleteWhether vague or direct, poems use small details to discuss a greater topic. As seen in “The Red Wheelbarrow” by William Carlos Williams, his poetry is short, but there is a lot to examine within it, like what the wheelbarrow could symbolize, or what is the importance of being next to the white chickens. Some believe this poem could discuss the farmers, or maybe even the working class. Or maybe the author was only writing about what he saw, which happened to be that Wheelbarrow. Despite that, the poet had a purpose for writing this; there is something he is wishing to convey throughout each word of the short poem.
ReplyDeleteThe way the poets dictate makes up how we read and experience what they wish to convey. An example of this is throughout “The B Network” by Haki Madhubuti, where he writes with the constant use of the alliteration of words starting with ‘B’. At first, this poem confused me since it was vague and fast spoken, but while hearing Madhubuti speak this one passage, it became clear, “brothers bop & pop and be-bop in cities locked up
and chained insane by crack and other acts
of desperation computerized in pentagon cellars producing
boppin brothers boastin of being better, best, beautiful
and definitely not Black.” He repeats a stanza written at the start of the poem, and switches the ending to “definitely not Black.” This is the only word capitalized throughout the whole poem, basically bolding it to our eyes. This poem addresses discrimination throughout it, and while mentioning everything about how bop, pop, and be-bop are in prision, he doesn’t mention their race until this part, which creates a shift where he discusses racism head-on.
In “George Grey” by Edgar Lee Masters, he expresses his emotional crisis and reflects on life in comparison to a docked boat. The format of the poem starts with him introducing the boat, switching to reflect on his own life, and concluding by talking about the boat. By introducing the topic and having something in between, it makes our minds form a similarity, or relation between the two.
These poems are a lot less strict than sonnets. They play with form, sound, repetition, speed, and a combination of many other things. “The B Network” really hit all of these, since each stanza was quite long, but the rapid succession of Madhubuti’s reading made them seem very short. Each stanza was one sentence, which also felt very rushed and almost anxious. Life is what’s hitting them with all of these fast-paced blows. One second, brothers are dancing, the next, they’re locked up. It speaks very well to some of the situations we studied in the last unit, especially the plight to Sonny. When I heard it being read out loud, I first thought it was rap, and equated it to music using the line, “brothers bop & pop and be-bop in cities locked up”. In the face of adversity, they still dance and defy what Madhubuti called “the test”. Another poem I really enjoyed was “First Hour”. This one had a very opposite effect on me than “The B Network”. Olds used one stream of consciousness. No periods match up with the end of a line except for two instances: the mood shifts at “sighs I did not know as mine./I was not afraid.” and then the very end. Being read, it sounded like the words were floating. It captured the euphoria I must imagine comes after giving birth, but from a stranger, innocent perspective. All that the child knows is innocence, so there’s no other way to write the poem. Each sentence is perfectly simple, peaceful, almost motherly. Perfectly suited for a newborn’s first hour alone.
ReplyDeleteMy initial reaction to “The History Teacher” by Billy Collins was that it is funny and clever, but I know from experience that Collins’ poems have a more profound meaning behind the humor. After reading the poem again, I thought back to our class discussion about the history taught in school. One of the major ideas we talked about was that what we have learned up until now is only a fraction of history, yet we are constantly being taught the same topics that, while they are still important, are not representative of the entire truth. In “The History Teacher,” Collins uses humorous exaggeration to address a similar issue. The teacher’s explanation for teaching his students false information is that he is “trying to protect his students’ innocence.” At the end of the poem, he walks “past flower beds and white picket fences,” implying that his students are in the upper or middle class and therefore should not be exposed to the reality outside of their bubble. This situation seems similar to that of Andover, where students are kept from learning much of history because teachers are cautious of parents who want to “protect” their childrens’ “innocence.” Collins also emphasizes that children will believe anything they are taught, no matter how ridiculous it sounds. I found humor in this poem because when I was young, I had the misconception that “the Ice Age was really just the Chilly Age.”
ReplyDeleteI absolutely loved reading through these modern poems. Each piece felt as if it was a new world, for they all told unique stories from varying perspectives and used the english language differently each time. Quite possibly my favorite poem was “The B Network”, by Haki Madhubuti. When read on paper, it feels very cryptic, with sentences being seemingly cut off and the constant repetition of the “B” consonant prevalent throughout. However, after viewing the video in which the author reads the poem aloud, the words fly off the paper. While seemingly jagged and broken up, when spoken, lines such as “brothers bop & pop and be-bop in cities locked up and chained insane by crack and other acts of desperation computerized in pentagon cellars producing boppin brothers boastin of being better, best, beautiful and definitely not Black.” flow with an unbelievable rhythm. It sounds almost songlike, yet is incredibly poignant, for the poem itself speaks of the many misconceptions and struggles of African Americans with a melodic rhythm so intense it demands a call to action by the end of the piece. By using such fantastic poetic flow, both with speed and clever repetition of consonants, Madhubuti leaves me in utter inspiration when he advises that while many are, “be-boppin to be better than the test, brotherman, better yet write the exam.”
ReplyDeleteFirst impressions are useful, but they are not always the best impression. One cannot truly understand someone or something from one meeting. So my first impressions of “ The B Network” by Haki Madhubuti were; it kind of sounds like rap, there are emphasizes on the Bs for some reason, I do not understand this poem, I have to read it a second time to understand this. Upon reading a few more times, I noticed no rhymes are present, which is different from typical sonnets. Honestly, I do not think anything about this poem is ordinary, but that is what makes this poem the more special. Also, I can see now that the poem is about race. All the Bs are an emphasis on being black. How life is for black men in the city, living with the paranoia of being locked up because of the injustice justice system (how ironic). I also looked up who Haki Madhubuti after reading it a few times. Now the poem makes more sense because he is a black rights activist. And as I take a step back after reading it, I can truly appreciate the poem. Not only because I understand it now but also because it is truly a uniquely written poem. The experience I had with this poem is a very familiar experience I have with songs. Sometimes I hear a new song, and I do not understand it, I have to listen to it a second time to understand it. That happened with this poem. Probably because it sounds like rap, and that is very much music to me.
ReplyDeleteAlso, thank my first impression for wanting to read the poem a second time, or I would have skipped over it and written about another one.
I completely agree with you. When I first read "The B Network" by Haki Madhubuti, I didn’t completely understand it until it was read out loud. I feel as though if the poem wasn’t read out loud then I would have never understood the message.
Delete- Lizaida Paulino
There’s a lot of beauty in simplicity, and I feel like these poems really emphasized that idea. Unlike sonnets, poems have no restrictions in terms of rhyme scheme or phrasing, allowing the author to express their ideas more clearly. I loved pretty much all of them, but out of the examples you gave us I was specifically drawn to the shorter ones, which I found myself analysing more than the longer ones. “The Red Wheelbarrow” by William Carlos Williams, being the shortest, made me think the most. What could the red wheelbarrow represent? Is it our own minds? Our bodies? The people around us? Is it literally just a wheelbarrow and I’ve fallen into an overcomplicated thinking pattern as a result of reading too many poems? Also, the two headed calf moved me in a way I was not expecting. Again, it’s very short and very simple, but I couldn’t help picturing this newborn calf, wandering around freely in the nighttime and being able to enjoy the night sky with twice as much pleasure as a normal calf. I think this says something about the way we read stories, or rather how we initially judge them based on length or genre. I initially believed that the longer poems and sonnets would give me more to analyze, thus giving me more to enjoy about the pieces. However, I preferred the shorter poems much more. Sometimes it’s better to just read something simple and immediately know what it means rather than read a larger text and become confused, even though “The Red Wheelbarrow” clearly demonstrates that confusion can come from shorter texts as well. Length does not make something good, it’s the quality and messages of the piece that count.
ReplyDeleteYou make a good point about the simple provocation of "Red Wheelbarrow" that reminds me of how people talk about pictures of soup and statues of urinals.
DeleteI agree that it can be kind of odd and out of place that a poem like "Th Red Wheelbarrow" can be quite confusing but I think that it is just meant to be a simple and happy poem. The simplicity and beauty of the poem is what really brings it to life. We don't have to over analyze of find the in depth and true meaning of it. You can easily read it and just sit back and enjoy it.
DeleteEach of the poems from the 20th Century that we read and listened to in class has its own and unique story. Each of the poems tell their stories in different ways through different means. The poem that stood out the most to me was The B Network by Haki Madhubuti. Every poem is meant to be read out loud and performed and when they are there is a greater impact and resonates deeper with its audience. The B Network however, is a very special kind of poem because it becomes an entirely different poem when it is read outloud and performed rather than when it is simply read quickly by the average student. The rapidness in which the poem is read makes it very difficult to decipher the words in each line and stanza, however, Madhubuti pauses every once in a while at the end of the lines letting the last word be audible enabling the audience to grasp onto them and fully let them sink in. This reminded me of when I first started learning Spanish and would do listening activities. The people in the recordings would be talking a mile a minute and it was hard to understand what they were saying. I could only ever understand a few words out of the 5 minute speech and had to use those few highlighted words to fill in the blanks and answer true or false questions.The words I ended up registering in my brain were sometimes the crucial words needed to answer the questions or sometimes tiny details that were not necessary in the long run. Each of these keywords created a unique poem in my mind and story of what the podcast or conversation was about. In a similar way, only certain words can be registered when listening to The B Network, and the words that can be deciphered are no coincidence. Madhubuti purposely chose the words “beaten”, “death”, “hangin”, “locked up”, “Black”, etc. to be at the ends of each of the lines because they contain the most weight maximizing the power of the poem. The words emphasized when the poem is read out loud create their own unique poem as a way to demonstrate the horrors and pain African Americans had to and continue to deal with in their daily lives. These keywords at the end of the lines leave the poem’s audience with the integral pieces and lines of the story.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed "First Hours" in terms of how the words flowed from my mouth and the way the sound made me feel, not the words themselves. The flow of the limes makes me feel transported back into a blissfully unknowing, unthinking state, like a fetus. Despite being a sixteen-year-old trying to analyze a college-level poem, I feel like I have regressed to an earlier state. While reading, I felt like the way I felt when I fully submerged myself in a body of water and I lay there. I can't hear a sound because of the barrier created by that state of matter. I am floating. Light peaks through but in fragments. I am in a solitary state, but I don't feel alone. Then I come back up for air.
ReplyDeleteTwo-Headed Calf" by Laura Gilpin resonated with me as well. The calf is like a small child, untouched. He is a symbol of pure innocence that has come into being. But he will be exploited for his "freakish nature"; his appearance on the second day itself. He will be ridiculed yet admired. His being will be tampered with. Despite the tragedy that will eventually befall him, the poem shifts back to the present. He enjoys his pleasant surroundings next to his most beloved mother. He notices that "there are twice as many stars as usual" and he embraces the bittersweetness of his life. There may be doom tomorrow but right now, today, is a gift. No wonder it is called the present.
The one poem that grabbed my attention was “The Red Wheel Barrow”, by William Carlos Williams. The simplicity of this poem was what drew me to it. This poem has 4 stanzas, 8 lines, and 16 words. There is no rhyme scheme in this poem, however, there is still an interesting flow. The first line of every stanza has three words, and the second line has only one word. This keeps an abnormal beat throughout the poem, pausing mid-sentence, “Glazed with rain/ water”, “A red wheel/ barrow”. Numerous arguments can be made about the meaning behind this poem, but one can never tell for sure. This connects to the poem “Introduction to Poetry” by Billy Collins, in that people can discuss the meaning of this poem for hours and never come to a definitive conclusion. I believe that the meaning behind this poem is whatever it means to you. This poem shows us the conclusions that can be drawn about something as simple as a red wheelbarrow, and the true meaning is in the eye of the beholder.
ReplyDeleteThese modern poems are different from traditional Poems. While Petrarchan sonnet and Shakespearean sonnet have certain forms, structures, and rhythms, contemporary poems are almost all free verse. After reading all poems, the two poems that stuck out to me were "The B Network" and "The Red Wheelbarrow."
ReplyDelete"The B Network" by Haki Madhubuti attracted me right away with its rhyme sounded like jazz and pop. Madhubuti uses the alliteration of words beginning with 'B' repeatedly to mimic the energy and pulse of be-bop music, for example, "brothers bop & pop and be-bop in cities locked up." The repeated Bs not only give the poem rhyme and energy but also endow it a feeling of the struggle of "B" lack people. At the end of the poem, Madhubuti uses his musical words "brothers need to hop to being Black & bright & /above board." to encourage African Americans to love and be proud of their culture. While reading this poem, I can feel the power of those popping sounds and I am surrounded by elements of African American culture and soak in the sea of it.
While "The B Network" conducts messages with sounds, "The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams "paints" an image or a snapshot within just 16 words, no punctuation, no capitalized words and no tone. With a minimalist style, Williams uses three little things, the "red wheelbarrow," clear "rainwater," "white chickens," to emphasize their bright and contrasting color, elegance in their motion and rest, and harmony of their co-existence. He combines all them together to form a light, calm, quiet and peaceful land. From this poem and the picture it paints, I can feel that a beautiful life could be simple one.
“The B Network” was my single star in the sky. First off, before listening to it being read aloud, it immediately impressed me simply by its use of alliteration. It always amazes me how even when an author will purposely restrict themselves to a certain set of words, their ability as a writer can truly shine through in how well they express themselves. This freedom and articulation despite restriction can also be seen as a nod to the versatility of poetry.
ReplyDeleteHearing the poem read aloud only brings more to comment on. The way the poem is read seems to be between the way a contemporary piece, and a rap song would be read. I believe this is reflective of Haki Madhubuti’s background as a strong advocate for black literary tradition and representation. In the way the poem is read I think Madhubuti was incorporating an important piece of black culture, hip hop and rap music, into the piece. Madhubuti’s frequent use of the word “brother” also reflects the way many black civil rights leaders would speak to their followers during the time of Malcolm X and Dr. King.
I think it's interesting how everyone seems to have the same impression of "The B Network." While the origin of the flowing rhythmic style is very much based in black culture, the impressiveness of the feat is easy for anyone to see regardless of their familiarity with the style.
DeleteThere is something to be said about sheer simplicity and an uncomplicated message. “The Two-headed Calf,” by Laura Gilpin, struck me in that it satisfied both requirements. The story is very basic, but meaningful, where the fragility of life is explored. The calf will not survive, for he was born with two heads. However, in the moment, everything is all right. One cannot predict the future, but because of Gilpin’s organization of the poem, one is left with a feeling of melancholy peacefulness.
ReplyDeleteThe future cannot be predicted, as the calf will die, and nothing will stop this from occurring. Gilpin goes back in time with her poem, starting with that will have happened. The “freak of nature” causes the reader to question, and most likely assume that this freak is something terrible, something abnormal. However, the mood of the poem drastically changes going into the second stanza, where the two-headed calf is no longer something that should be feared, but something of beauty, and just as good as anyone else, as he just sees “twice as many stars as usual.”
“The History Teacher,” by Billy Collins, is another one of the poems that I liked, again, fairly simplistic. However, the message of the poem, the corruption of facts, is really meaningful to me. It is fascinating how even today, stories like that of the European colonists in America are not true, and then the highly influenceable children, not knowing any better, believe them to be true, and forcefully ignore the truth. Collins poses the question of the role of teachers, and how much truth should children receive, and what historical events should be explained to children and at what age. In addition, it’s interesting how the teachers lives a very nice quiet life, as he “[walks] home
past flower beds and white picket fences.” He might not know suffering, and he seems to possess some kind of uncaring, as he doesn’t appear to care about the unfortunates who gave their lives yesterday.
I had a different take on the end of "The History Teacher". While I agreed that the central message was to create a conversation around the corruption of facts, I feel as though the teacher is not ignorant of the suffering of others. Instead, he has simply resigned to what he has been told to do. I want to assume the best of people, so perhaps this deflection of blame is misplaced, but I feel as though the resignation of the teacher is more dangerous than his possible ignorance. A teacher that has given up on teaching the truth does not assign himself the responsibility of the truth, yet the teacher that is ignorant of the truth believes that he is telling the truth.
DeleteYour analysis of "The History Teacher" is very clearly and nicely written, and I agree with everything you said. I like the phrase "corruption of facts" and how you discussed the true role of teachers.
DeleteI loved the poem "The Quest" by Sharon Olds. We are indirectly given so much information about the narrator of this piece, whether it is Olds herself or another woman. We learn of her abusive childhood, how she suffers from the terrible treatment to this day, how she is afraid to have the same effect on her daughter accidentally because maybe, maybe, the way her own parents had treated her was an unconscious mistake. Or, maybe they realized what they were doing all along, and she deserved it. We are truly drawn into the mind of Olds: "the time my parents tied me to a chair and would not feed me , I gazed as deep as I could into their eyes and all I saw was goodness, I could not get past it.... I rush home with the blood of oranges pressed to my breast, I cannot get it to her fast enough." Though I do not have children of my own, I know there is nothing more terrifying than losing someone you love; Old's powerful description and strategic enjambment bring the chaos and stress of this situation to life.
ReplyDeleteI think this piece also says something about the nature of children, who haven't learned to hate anyone so early in their life. Instead of being mad at her parents for not feeding her, she looked at them with hope, assuming that their actions were out of love since they are supposed to be her natural protectors. This ties back into the author's own worries about losing sight of her child, who can't yet detect the evils in others.
DeleteIn my initial reaction to listening to Old's poem I pictured the narrator as a man without realizing it. Reading your response made me realize she allows the audience to decide the gender, which is the same technique used in Recitatif with race.
DeleteThese poems were so diverse that no two gave me the same reaction. Some of them, such as The Two Headed Calf, were easy-to-visualize and read. Others were much more complex and used similes, metaphors, personification and other literary devices, such as First Hours. Some, like The Red Wheelbarrow, were short and sweet, and others, like The B Network, were much longer and more detailed. Some honestly just seemed like poorly-written run-on sentences; others were more like a short story. And some had a degree of humor to them while others had a much more serious tone. The lack of rhyme schemes surprised me as well, the stereotypical poem that I'm used to usually has a lot of rhyming.
ReplyDeleteMy favorite poem was The B Network, but that was only after I heard it read in the video. Simply reading it in my mind didn't do it any justice. I didn't quite catch that it was supposed to be that fast-paced, and not only was it a powerful poem talking about civil rights, it was entertaining to listen to.
I really agree with you here will I also thought that they were easy to visualize because of the deep imagery and the way that they really explained what was happening
DeleteI thought that the way the B Network was structured made you able to read it in the beat it was intended. Although reading it was not as good as listening to the poet recite it. I think that the way that Haki Madhubuti set up the poem you can sense the beat it was intended to be.
DeleteI’m a massive subscriber of the “torture a confession out of [poems]” theory. I can't help but micro analyze, and sometimes I forget that there is this incredible piece of work that the minutia that I am focused on is part of. When reading the poems I started from the top; George Grey was interesting to me in that I didn't have to beat the meaning out of it. He said it himself. He told the reader that the boat in the harbor was his life. It was refreshing not to dig through words and punctuation to discover some semblance of meaning but for it to be bluntly stated. Furthermore, I enjoyed the analogy that he made, how he was a ship with furled sails to afraid to travel outside the bay and however much he longed for the sea he would never be able to leave for his life has already been carved in stone (marble). Additionally, I liked the way Collins used punctuation and enjambment to articulate more meaning. I found this similar to Madhubuti’s work in “The B Network”. I enjoyed how the stanzas were one long following sentence, one practically perfect procession of alliteration. I think his use of cadence and tone was particularly profound. The way the words were rushed and confusing seems very analogous to life added to by the symbolism that his reading only slows down for beauty, I think, makes a very nice poem. In contrast, I thought of “anyhow” being devoid of punctuation, or even capitalization for that matter, a lot of the onus lies on the reader to read it in a way that is conducive to finding purpose.
ReplyDeleteMy favorite poem out of all of these was “The B Network” by Haki Madhubuti as I was caught off guard and left utterly confused when first listening to it. This is due to Madhubuti reading the poem in a way in which everything seemed to be one big word until he slowed down and emphasized certain lines. Immediately, I related this chaos to the rapping world as many artists in this genre use this structure and way of speech as a way of captivating their audience. After reading “The B Network”, Madhubuti’s use of alliteration becomes clear as it is used to link the poem to Black culture. He uses words from the urban language and creates a network of undercased b-words until getting to the line, “and definitely not Black”. By making the b in ‘black’ uppercased and adding a period, Madhubuti brings emphasis on this line and refers to Black people as a whole. Throughout the poem, Madhubuti addresses Black mans desire to assimilate to white culture as it is viewed as “being better, best, and beautiful”. He then contrasts this by asking if whiteness is better, then who is going to be left for the Black women who desire a Black man who is not corrupted by the ideas of white supremacy. Towards the end of the poem, Madhubuti adds this stanza, “brothers need to bop to being Black & bright above board the black train of beautiful wisdom that is bending this bind toward a new & knowledgeable beginning that is bountiful & bountiful & beautiful” in order to convey that people in the Black community need to stop trying to be a member of the white community as being Black in it in itself is empowering. He wrote that they need to “board the black train of beautiful wisdom” as a way of portraying that instead of conforming, Black people need to join the cultural revolution and re-embrace Black culture.
ReplyDelete“The History Teacher” at first glance felt harmless and humorful, due to the language used, but it feels to me as commentary on the softened version of history we are served in school that we discussed in class earlier in the year. Particularly, that the reason it is done is to protect their innocence contrasts with the comment about the kids leaving the class to start beating each other up.
ReplyDeleteIn “First Hour” many sentences are broken across lines. It is carefully disorderly to create something akin to a baby’s stream of consciousness. This is aided by the removal of punctuation oftentimes. While the adjectives are more complex, the verbs are simple
“The Red Wheelbarrow” is unpunctuated and uncapitalized. Each phrase is two lines, three for the first and one for the second. The lines kinda look like a wheelbarrow I guess. Truthfully I’m not sure what to make of it.
“The Two-Headed Calf” I only initially recognized as poetry because it was presented as poetry. The more I look at it, the less it seems like poetry to me. The lines breaks don’t feel particularly meaningful to me, and when I read it out internally it comes at unaffected.
I agree. When I first read "The Red Wheelbarrel", I also felt there was not much poetic elements left in my mind, but only a beautiful picture. I guess author did not pass messages with words and rhyme, but a picture.
DeleteAs I was reading the poems I realized that neither of the many poems we read were similar. There were various poems that required critical thinking while others were very easy to understand. For example, “The Two-Headed Calf” by Laura Gilpin, was an easy read. The poem explained that one does not know what lies ahead in the future, that is why one must live for the moment and in the moment. Now when one analyzes the poem “The B Network,” by Haki Madhubuti it is at first hard to comprehend. It was only when the poem was read out loud that I took a completely different angle from the poem. The poem began to sound more like a rap than anything else, but when one took time to listen to the words being spoken it became something entirely different. While the first poem was as simple as can be, the second poem played with repetition, sound, and speed.
ReplyDelete- Lizaida Paulino
There are a couple of very important and remarkable poems in this section, and I've decided to write my post on two poems: one that I've read before and one that I have not.
ReplyDeleteFirst Hour is the poem that I have read before. The first time I read this poem, I thought that it was themed around how pure the human mind is when unaffected. It is free; it has no loyalties or debts to anyone, not holding any prejudice against anyone who is different to them. I notice in my second reading of it that it has a very sophisticated format to it. The poem separates in ideas at a point in a subtle way. The first part of the poem is a written in objective statements,"I lay in the quiet and looked, and did the wordless thought, my mind was getting its oxygen direct, the rich mix by mouth." These are all very objective and rationally analytic thoughts about just existing purely. Then, the poem moves into statements such as "Not yet in love, i belonged to no one." This, in my opinion, shows the narrator's progression and maturity, with thoughts becoming more personal. To be brief, I believe that Olds wrote this poem in a specific way to show the maturity and progression of the human mind and its regular nature.
The poem that I had never read before was "The History Teacher" by Billy Collins. This poem sticks out to me because of how subtly Collins follows the shadows of some rules of the old poems that we read. Collins splits his ideas into different stanzas, follows a personalized meter, and has more than one statement per subargument, he keeps multiple dimensions in his stanza. I think this is fascinating because it is an excellent example of how old poetry has influenced the modern poet, and how the rules are still present in the shadows of their works today.
My favorite poem out of this set was "The History Teacher" by Billy Collins. It had a comedic feeling at the beginning, however the message of the poem reflects on the point of truth and the protection of a child's innocence, which is a theme that many can relate to. This poem kept me thinking, and I thought about what they world would look like if all these events were handled as if they were in the eyes of a child? There can be simplicity in innocence, and this poem was an interesting take on this topic. This poem also closely related to "The Quest," which also reflects on the complexities of good an evil in the world, and parents keeping their children safe. Both of these poems read like a story, with imagery and reflective thoughts from the author that can be easily related to by the audience.
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