Well this day I decided to go with blogging on the poem this is a photograph of me by Margaret Atwood. There was much controversy over this poem this weak and it's still on my mind so here we are. On my blog, blogging about this poem. This poem wasn't my favourite but I still liked it. I feel that there are multiple interpretations of this here poem so I'll share two of them because I don't want to be 'inaccurate' or anything like that.
The First: This poem was written by Atwood to express her feelings of being overwhelmed and overlooked. It's easy to feel uncared about and unseen with as many people as there are in the world. Atwood just described this seen and was pretty much like oh yeah I'm there too but no one really cares. The first three stanzas consist of Atwood describing the landscape and things that aren't her then in parenthesis she adds the part about herself being in the landscape photo. She probably wasn't too happy about her life when she wrote this poem.
The Second: Not so deep. Irony really because she titled it this is a photograph of me which leads one to think that the poem will consist of Atwood describing a picture of herself and what she looks like. When you read on, you're caught off guard by the path the poem takes. It's almost as if she was saying, I want to tell you this story of when I died. Which is weird because she couldn't possibly tell a story of her own death a day later. Maybe it was her intention to just catch the readers by surprise.
For some reason I just didn't really think about this poem very deeply. It seemed like a poem to be read and caught off guard in a good way and not to be beaten to death with a hose. Not all poems have these deep meanings. I write poems, and not all of them have deep intellectual messages buried within them. They're just poems meant to be encountered and enjoyed.
Well no matter how you decide to interpret this poem, Its still a good poem.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Nothing Gold Can Stay
Oh shoot, ding this blog totally reminded me that I forgot to go back in to get the practice multiple choice. Sorry Mrs. W, that was my bad. Please don't fail me or report me or get upset with me. Any of the above scenadios don't sound too pleasent.
Anyways for my (hopefully) last poetry blog I chose to blog about the poem Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost. I enjoyed this poem a lot because it sounds clever withthe rhyming and what not. I didn't really understand the idea of the poem though. Some seeds are gold? I honestly can't figure this one out. So I'll just look at the structure and rhyme scheme?
It is only one stanza which makes me think that it's just supposed to be matter of fact poem like Nothing Gold Can Stay period, dont ask questions or your stupid and shouldn't be reading my poetry, I'm Robert Frost. Harsh Frost. However, that doesn' change my liking for this poem and not just be ause of it's nice abab rhyming. I just feel like it's profound and nifty.
My favorite part? The last two lines.
"So Dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay"
I just understood that part! When the sun rises, it's gold and beautiful, but it can't stay that way. The sun has to fully rise so that the day can begin and progress. Wait, the whole poem just clicked...
There will be things in life that are just so amazing and breathtaking, but they cant last. These grand things have to depart in order for other things to happen. Wow, I knew this poem was good stuff.
I am such a fan if Robert Frost's work.
Anyways for my (hopefully) last poetry blog I chose to blog about the poem Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost. I enjoyed this poem a lot because it sounds clever withthe rhyming and what not. I didn't really understand the idea of the poem though. Some seeds are gold? I honestly can't figure this one out. So I'll just look at the structure and rhyme scheme?
It is only one stanza which makes me think that it's just supposed to be matter of fact poem like Nothing Gold Can Stay period, dont ask questions or your stupid and shouldn't be reading my poetry, I'm Robert Frost. Harsh Frost. However, that doesn' change my liking for this poem and not just be ause of it's nice abab rhyming. I just feel like it's profound and nifty.
My favorite part? The last two lines.
"So Dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay"
I just understood that part! When the sun rises, it's gold and beautiful, but it can't stay that way. The sun has to fully rise so that the day can begin and progress. Wait, the whole poem just clicked...
There will be things in life that are just so amazing and breathtaking, but they cant last. These grand things have to depart in order for other things to happen. Wow, I knew this poem was good stuff.
I am such a fan if Robert Frost's work.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
this is just to say
Tonight I am blogging on the poem this is just to say by William Carlos Williams. I find it humorous that his parents named him William and one of his last manes is Williams. Ha. Unless he took his wife's name which was Williams or something. In which case.... I have nothing to say! Okay now that I have gotten down my weekly blog poetry humor, onto the real stuff. The real good stuff.
After I read this poem, I decided that I liked it because hey I like plums. Not only do oI like plums but I also like uncapitalized letters! When I realized that none of the letters were capitalized, I thought how strange. But then I thought about how when i'm sad or when I am texting someone who is mad at me, I use lower case.
Wait, I just realized there are two capitalized letters. These capitalized letters are I and Forgive though so i'm thinking that Williams is owning up to what he did by saying yeah it was ME who ate your plums, please FORGIVE me.
I don't think that this poem has any deep meaning. I think that this was either just a quick poem that Williams jotted down after he ate the plums and realized what he did, OR a poem that he wrote like a day or two later after he was being eaten alive by guilt for eating this other persons plums.
In the first stanza he just begins by owning up to the fact that he ate the plums. In the second he was recognizing that his friend was probably saving them. In the last stanza, he asks for forgiveness like 'I see why you were saving those plums because they were soooo delicious, but i'm sorry I ate them and please don't hate me'.
I like this poem a lot because it is probably the first poem that I have read where the reader was writing about something that he regretted doing in such frank terms. The poem is like a small poem that is just Williams asking for forgiveness for eating a plum. It was pretty kind too, so if someone ate my plum then wrote me an apologetic poem I would definitely forgive them.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Many Red Devils...
It is Friday and I am sitting here in Photography class waiting for my panoramic picture to finish merging and listening to Imogen Heap a wondering what to do while I am waiting. So I blog for you now: few who read my blog. Is it really necessary to use 2 computers to get my stuff done? At this place yes, yes it is. Stupid computers.
So I have decided to blog on Many red devils... by Stephen Crane for no reason other than the fact that it is fresh in my mind since I presented it 2nd hour.
I really liked this poem because SURPRISE! I could connect to it.
But first...
This poem is very true to Crane's style. He wrote with a very ironic tone and wrote poems that you really had to think about. Not about stealing plums or other such things. I think that Crane had a lot going on in his mind, but sometime's had difficulties expressing it. He lived a very normal to poor life ie. nothing really special happened for him. He died at an early age though. He was only 28 when he died of some illness I can't recall. The really cool thing that I found about Crane was that he majorly influenced Ernest Hemingway. He lived in the late 1800s and died in 1900. Right at the turn of the century. Poor guy. Basically, he was a very in depth type of person who made you think.
When I read this poem I envisioned Crane sitting at his desk with the intention of writing something; a poem or story. As he sat there I could see his frustration as he wrote then scribbled out his thoughts.
I know that I usually have a lot on my mind and sometimes it's hard for me to express what i'm trying to say. It's almost like an internal battle. Do I say this or is that bad? Should I say that or does it not make sense.
I also understand the use of only one stanza because this makes it more focused since he is talking about only one subject. His thoughts.
Good work Mr. Crane, you made me think.
So I have decided to blog on Many red devils... by Stephen Crane for no reason other than the fact that it is fresh in my mind since I presented it 2nd hour.
I really liked this poem because SURPRISE! I could connect to it.
But first...
This poem is very true to Crane's style. He wrote with a very ironic tone and wrote poems that you really had to think about. Not about stealing plums or other such things. I think that Crane had a lot going on in his mind, but sometime's had difficulties expressing it. He lived a very normal to poor life ie. nothing really special happened for him. He died at an early age though. He was only 28 when he died of some illness I can't recall. The really cool thing that I found about Crane was that he majorly influenced Ernest Hemingway. He lived in the late 1800s and died in 1900. Right at the turn of the century. Poor guy. Basically, he was a very in depth type of person who made you think.
When I read this poem I envisioned Crane sitting at his desk with the intention of writing something; a poem or story. As he sat there I could see his frustration as he wrote then scribbled out his thoughts.
I know that I usually have a lot on my mind and sometimes it's hard for me to express what i'm trying to say. It's almost like an internal battle. Do I say this or is that bad? Should I say that or does it not make sense.
I also understand the use of only one stanza because this makes it more focused since he is talking about only one subject. His thoughts.
Good work Mr. Crane, you made me think.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Mid-Term Break
Sunday, Sunday, not so fun day Sunday. This Sunday, I am blogging about the poem Mid-Term Break by Seamus Heaney. At first I picked this poem because it seemed as though it would be about college and I just want to be in college already. Not a good enough reason, but a start. As I read, i'd skip lines and not really process which is when I got really confused. So, I read back through the poem and thought. Deep thought. This poem is not about college at all. Wait. Kind of. Yes, life.
First I analyzed the literal part of this poem. This fellow was a college student and while he was away, his 4 year-old brother was hit by a car and died. Heaney came back for the funeral and wake. The part that struck me was not that this was a tragic event, but that Heaney wrote about it with such a calmness. If my sibling died, I would not be that calm. As I thought about that, it lead me to a deeper analysis of the poem.
I related to this poem. Which freaks me out. (Not totally though. I love my siblings and even though I can't wait to move away, I wouldn't be this calm if one of them were to die) In order to understand this poem on a deeper level, I thought of it in terms of myself. Let me explain my train of thought:
As graduation nears, I have found myself consumed with thoughts of college and what I will do when I leave home. It's almost as if I haven't even been home at all anymore, though I have been. I am always somewhere else in my mind. I have felt myself becoming distant and removed from my house, family, school, even this town. Since these are the last few months that i will be able to see my family whenever I want and feel that closeness, I should probably be taking advantage of them. I can't make myself do so, even though I will probably regret it later. All I want is to leave all of this behind and discover, learn, become an independent. What does this have to do with a poem where college is mentioned only in the first tercet?
It explains the removed feeling of the poem. Heaney was away at college and from the line
"I saw him
For the first time in six weeks. paler now..."
It would seem that he did not frequently visit home and was not very close with his family. Removed. Moving away and getting older. Becoming an independent. Does that to you apparently. So what?
So, Hearney was probably sad about his brothers passing, but he still viewed the event almost from the outside looking in and hardened. It all seems summed up in the last powerful line standing alone. If I was in that position writing this poem, that poem to me would mean:
My brother was four years old when he died, and I am sad about that. I didn't know him very well though. I was busy trying to live this independent life. I was too detached from all of this to pay much attention to him. I could dwell on how sad this is, but if I think about it I will be overwhelmed with guilt for never caring to get close to him or be there as a sibling should be. Grown and in college or not. So, I think about his death as a matter of fact.
First I analyzed the literal part of this poem. This fellow was a college student and while he was away, his 4 year-old brother was hit by a car and died. Heaney came back for the funeral and wake. The part that struck me was not that this was a tragic event, but that Heaney wrote about it with such a calmness. If my sibling died, I would not be that calm. As I thought about that, it lead me to a deeper analysis of the poem.
I related to this poem. Which freaks me out. (Not totally though. I love my siblings and even though I can't wait to move away, I wouldn't be this calm if one of them were to die) In order to understand this poem on a deeper level, I thought of it in terms of myself. Let me explain my train of thought:
As graduation nears, I have found myself consumed with thoughts of college and what I will do when I leave home. It's almost as if I haven't even been home at all anymore, though I have been. I am always somewhere else in my mind. I have felt myself becoming distant and removed from my house, family, school, even this town. Since these are the last few months that i will be able to see my family whenever I want and feel that closeness, I should probably be taking advantage of them. I can't make myself do so, even though I will probably regret it later. All I want is to leave all of this behind and discover, learn, become an independent. What does this have to do with a poem where college is mentioned only in the first tercet?
It explains the removed feeling of the poem. Heaney was away at college and from the line
"I saw him
For the first time in six weeks. paler now..."
It would seem that he did not frequently visit home and was not very close with his family. Removed. Moving away and getting older. Becoming an independent. Does that to you apparently. So what?
So, Hearney was probably sad about his brothers passing, but he still viewed the event almost from the outside looking in and hardened. It all seems summed up in the last powerful line standing alone. If I was in that position writing this poem, that poem to me would mean:
My brother was four years old when he died, and I am sad about that. I didn't know him very well though. I was busy trying to live this independent life. I was too detached from all of this to pay much attention to him. I could dwell on how sad this is, but if I think about it I will be overwhelmed with guilt for never caring to get close to him or be there as a sibling should be. Grown and in college or not. So, I think about his death as a matter of fact.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Inversnaid
So this depressing Sunday I decided to blog on the great poem Inversnaid by Gerard Manley Hopkins. I just decided to blog on this poem because it was the first poem I came across when I picked up that darn poetry packet. This poem was intriguing to me because it tells a story that I could sort of imagine. This is not really my favorite poem but oh well, I gotta blog on something.
Okay, let's analyze this piece of poetry. 4 stanzas. 4 quatrians. Why? Because, that's why. It has a standard abab rhyme that is occasionally slanted, but hey no one is perfect or Dr. Seuss. I think that each stanza actually describes a different part of the setting of the story.
One cool thing about this poem was that it was very descriptive and colorful ironically because when I think of the old south I think of everything being dark and light shades of brown. Description is always good though because it helps me understand the poem.
BTW- Inversnaid is not a word, incase you were wondering.
When I read this poem, I saw a man like in the old west intimidating everyone because he is scry. I could be completely off but hey, this is how I analyzed this poem.
Okay, let's analyze this piece of poetry. 4 stanzas. 4 quatrians. Why? Because, that's why. It has a standard abab rhyme that is occasionally slanted, but hey no one is perfect or Dr. Seuss. I think that each stanza actually describes a different part of the setting of the story.
One cool thing about this poem was that it was very descriptive and colorful ironically because when I think of the old south I think of everything being dark and light shades of brown. Description is always good though because it helps me understand the poem.
BTW- Inversnaid is not a word, incase you were wondering.
When I read this poem, I saw a man like in the old west intimidating everyone because he is scry. I could be completely off but hey, this is how I analyzed this poem.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Of Mere Being
Well, it is time to blog once again and this time I have decided to blog on Of Mere Being by Wallace Stevens. I ran across this poem and had to read it a few times to even begin to understand. I really liked the fact that the meaning of this poem doesn't hit you in the face. You have to really think to analyze this poem.
*Quick side note: this poem is made up of four stanzas made up of tercets. To me the structure is significant because with each stanza, Stevens realizes more about this bird. Each tercet shows his thoughts progressing into more of an understanding.
After about the fourth or so time reading this poem, I realized that it was talking about a bird.
Just kidding.
No, I think that this poem talks about this majestic and strange bird that Stevens is seeing. As stevens is watching this bird, he is at first frustrated by it's foreignness. As humans, we have to really think about things that are out of the ordinary before we can even think about liking them.
What is this bird?
Is it bad?
Good?
How can I relate this bird to my life?...
In the end of the poem, Stevens realizes that he doesn't have to understand this bird. The bird exists and he just needs to appreciate it for what it is. I took this poem as Stevens commenting on today's world. So many people just have to really think about and understand every little thing in their busy lives. Sometimes, things in life don't make sense, and we just need to realize that they are there. They are what they are.
*Quick side note: this poem is made up of four stanzas made up of tercets. To me the structure is significant because with each stanza, Stevens realizes more about this bird. Each tercet shows his thoughts progressing into more of an understanding.
After about the fourth or so time reading this poem, I realized that it was talking about a bird.
Just kidding.
No, I think that this poem talks about this majestic and strange bird that Stevens is seeing. As stevens is watching this bird, he is at first frustrated by it's foreignness. As humans, we have to really think about things that are out of the ordinary before we can even think about liking them.
What is this bird?
Is it bad?
Good?
How can I relate this bird to my life?...
In the end of the poem, Stevens realizes that he doesn't have to understand this bird. The bird exists and he just needs to appreciate it for what it is. I took this poem as Stevens commenting on today's world. So many people just have to really think about and understand every little thing in their busy lives. Sometimes, things in life don't make sense, and we just need to realize that they are there. They are what they are.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
The Book
This Sunday, I decided to blog about this lovely poem The Book by the lovely author Miller Williams. Oh this poem. I'm not going to lie, I didn't even know about this poem until someone presented it in class. When they presented it, I thought that this was a very interesting poem. First off, why would Williams write a poem about a book made out of human skin? Creepy. Either way, it was kinda cool.
My favorite thing about this poem was that it was written in the form of a story. I mean, anyone could write a creepy poem about a human skin bound journal. It almost made me connect more to the poem because he wrote about someone stumbling upon this unique book and placing the story of his life in it, and then himself learning of the truth while holding the book. It was an interesting perspective. Almost a third third person? I don't know, but it was written interestingly.
The book consists of 7 stanzas: a singlet, two tercets, 3 couplets and one quintet? It has five lines. It doesn't really have a rhyme scheme other than the occasional ab rhyme. I think that this set up makes sense because well, it's written like a story. The story just flows very nicely.
While reading this, I can picture the book in my mind and then the man holding it in his hands while the other is telling the horrific story. I can just see the man holding the books face warp in horror as he learns about this book. This was probably one of my favorite poems.
My favorite thing about this poem was that it was written in the form of a story. I mean, anyone could write a creepy poem about a human skin bound journal. It almost made me connect more to the poem because he wrote about someone stumbling upon this unique book and placing the story of his life in it, and then himself learning of the truth while holding the book. It was an interesting perspective. Almost a third third person? I don't know, but it was written interestingly.
The book consists of 7 stanzas: a singlet, two tercets, 3 couplets and one quintet? It has five lines. It doesn't really have a rhyme scheme other than the occasional ab rhyme. I think that this set up makes sense because well, it's written like a story. The story just flows very nicely.
While reading this, I can picture the book in my mind and then the man holding it in his hands while the other is telling the horrific story. I can just see the man holding the books face warp in horror as he learns about this book. This was probably one of my favorite poems.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Pictures to Encourage Further Thoughts
David Mason Sporting a very nice vest
Free Spirited Paper (also all alone)
Scissors - man (very lonely)
Song of the Powers
This week, I am on time but still a little sad about the giant zero that I have in the gradebook where my grade from last weeks blog should go. I should speak to Mrs. White in regards to that if I can remember. Anyways this week I have decided to blog on Song of the Powers by David Mason.
***Sidenote, I just typed up a whole paragraph and the computer exited out of Safari. I just thought that I would let anyone who reads this know the nonsense that I have to go through to blog about these nice poems.
Back to poetry blogging: As I was flipping through my poetry packet half an hour ago, I came upon this nice little poem called Song of the Powers. It looked nice enough, and I thought to myself "hey this poem is about rock, paper, scissors. Kaya, you know a lot about rock, paper, scissors and I think that you should try blogging on this poem." Thus, here I am blogging about a poem about rock, paper, scissors but not because it would be easy... I would like to further analyze this game and poetry. Go poetry.
This poem is made up of 4 stanzas. With many lines. I would love to tell you how many lines are in each stanza but I don't recall getting my sub work with all of my poetry notes back so, so much for that. The cool thing about this poem was that the first three stanzas focus one by one on the aspects of rock paper scissors:
Stanza One: The rock which has power alone. It has no other "power" and it's all alone.
Stanza Two: The paper which has words? It is very smart and free spirited (so obviously it's not lined paper) Oh and it's alone too.
Stanza Three: The scissors which have meanness. They hare two knives stuck together ready to kill the dreams of the poor free paper. These scissors, though they are 'these', are also alone.
The third stanza tells of the timeless battle between the three; strength, freedom, and evil dreamcrushing. They all prepare themselves for battle but for what? Yes of course, one will win but who will it share it's victory with? The answer is no one because the rock, the paper, and the scissors are alone as essentially we all are. Maybe Mason didn't grow up having any friends, or many friends but still felt very alone. Poor Mason probably could use a hug. This poem, to me, seemed like a lot of talk about these three objects and their strengths, but it was pretty much about loneliness.
***Sidenote, I just typed up a whole paragraph and the computer exited out of Safari. I just thought that I would let anyone who reads this know the nonsense that I have to go through to blog about these nice poems.
Back to poetry blogging: As I was flipping through my poetry packet half an hour ago, I came upon this nice little poem called Song of the Powers. It looked nice enough, and I thought to myself "hey this poem is about rock, paper, scissors. Kaya, you know a lot about rock, paper, scissors and I think that you should try blogging on this poem." Thus, here I am blogging about a poem about rock, paper, scissors but not because it would be easy... I would like to further analyze this game and poetry. Go poetry.
This poem is made up of 4 stanzas. With many lines. I would love to tell you how many lines are in each stanza but I don't recall getting my sub work with all of my poetry notes back so, so much for that. The cool thing about this poem was that the first three stanzas focus one by one on the aspects of rock paper scissors:
Stanza One: The rock which has power alone. It has no other "power" and it's all alone.
Stanza Two: The paper which has words? It is very smart and free spirited (so obviously it's not lined paper) Oh and it's alone too.
Stanza Three: The scissors which have meanness. They hare two knives stuck together ready to kill the dreams of the poor free paper. These scissors, though they are 'these', are also alone.
The third stanza tells of the timeless battle between the three; strength, freedom, and evil dreamcrushing. They all prepare themselves for battle but for what? Yes of course, one will win but who will it share it's victory with? The answer is no one because the rock, the paper, and the scissors are alone as essentially we all are. Maybe Mason didn't grow up having any friends, or many friends but still felt very alone. Poor Mason probably could use a hug. This poem, to me, seemed like a lot of talk about these three objects and their strengths, but it was pretty much about loneliness.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Praise In Summer
This week, i am a little late on blogging; oops. Well either way i'm blogging now and about a very ... poemy poem that I am not sure whether I like or not.
This fine day I am deciding to blog about the timeless Praise In Summer by Richard Wilbur, oh yeah. SO this poem was a little confusing to me, but on the bright side it is made up of 1 stanza; a 13set. One stanza. 14 lines. Anyways, this poem had a classic abab rhyme scheme so nothing impressive there. However, I found it interesting that Wilbur used said a couple times as well as rhyming with it. Not only did he use said, it was "I said" so i think that Wilbur was commenting on his views of the world.
I can't completely grasp the whole poems idea, but I feel like Wilbur is in a sense saying: Why question the immaculate beauty that is surrounding us when we can just enjoy it? I think he is right because the world is a beautiful place and it can be a waste of time to ask why when you could just enjoy the beauty. Duh. I mean Wilbur said it a lot more elegantly but I think he could have possibly said that.
Wilbur has a very nice way of writing which allows him to write about deep things and sound intelligent as well. He was probably a well educated person, or maybe someone not very bright but who has incredible spurts of enlightenment.
As the great Forrest Gump once said: "That's all i have to say about that."
This fine day I am deciding to blog about the timeless Praise In Summer by Richard Wilbur, oh yeah. SO this poem was a little confusing to me, but on the bright side it is made up of 1 stanza; a 13set. One stanza. 14 lines. Anyways, this poem had a classic abab rhyme scheme so nothing impressive there. However, I found it interesting that Wilbur used said a couple times as well as rhyming with it. Not only did he use said, it was "I said" so i think that Wilbur was commenting on his views of the world.
I can't completely grasp the whole poems idea, but I feel like Wilbur is in a sense saying: Why question the immaculate beauty that is surrounding us when we can just enjoy it? I think he is right because the world is a beautiful place and it can be a waste of time to ask why when you could just enjoy the beauty. Duh. I mean Wilbur said it a lot more elegantly but I think he could have possibly said that.
Wilbur has a very nice way of writing which allows him to write about deep things and sound intelligent as well. He was probably a well educated person, or maybe someone not very bright but who has incredible spurts of enlightenment.
As the great Forrest Gump once said: "That's all i have to say about that."
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Cotton Mouth Country
I am blogging on Cotton Mouth Country by Louise Gl(u with two dots above it)ck today because it was a nice poem that I felt like I understood well enough to blog about it. Even though this poem is pretty short, I really liked it because the use of only one octet keeps the poem one whole idea instead of drawing it out with multiple stanzas.
I also noticed how she capitalized death. To me, that made me think that she meant actual death with his black hood and sword thing. I'm not quite sure what Hatteras is so I am going to use my inferencing skills that I have been working on since I was in about third grade. I'm going to say that it is a large body of water that has fish in it.
I think that this poem is really cool because she is commenting on the world and how polluted and depressing it is. The world, I think, is not really a great place, I mean you have robbers and murderers and debt. So it's interesting that she says that "Birth, not death, is the hard loss" because it can be hard to bring something into a world that is hard and full of death and darkness. Okay, now i'm thinking that Gl(u with two dots above it)ck is a depressed person because even though I see her point, writing that was a tad bit depressing.
I also noticed how she capitalized death. To me, that made me think that she meant actual death with his black hood and sword thing. I'm not quite sure what Hatteras is so I am going to use my inferencing skills that I have been working on since I was in about third grade. I'm going to say that it is a large body of water that has fish in it.
I think that this poem is really cool because she is commenting on the world and how polluted and depressing it is. The world, I think, is not really a great place, I mean you have robbers and murderers and debt. So it's interesting that she says that "Birth, not death, is the hard loss" because it can be hard to bring something into a world that is hard and full of death and darkness. Okay, now i'm thinking that Gl(u with two dots above it)ck is a depressed person because even though I see her point, writing that was a tad bit depressing.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Much madness is divinest sense
This week I decided to blog on Much Madness is Divinest Sense by Emily Dickens. I actually didn't like this poem that much, nor did I find it interesting or intriguing in an any way. I will however, blog about and analyze this poem because Emily Dickens was pretty clever and interesting.
I think that in this poem, Dickens is addressing humanity as a whole and how we act in society. Humans tend to cling to what they call "normal" and claim that to be the status-quo and compare all else to that. I believe that this is a major fault in society. The best thing about being human is being unique because even though many people may act similar, they are still completely different.
Anyways, Dickens was obviously frustrated at the way that individuals were treated and so she spoke out about it through this poem. She uses some interesting vocabulary and words things interestingly but I get what she is talking about. Basically.
I think that in this poem, Dickens is addressing humanity as a whole and how we act in society. Humans tend to cling to what they call "normal" and claim that to be the status-quo and compare all else to that. I believe that this is a major fault in society. The best thing about being human is being unique because even though many people may act similar, they are still completely different.
Anyways, Dickens was obviously frustrated at the way that individuals were treated and so she spoke out about it through this poem. She uses some interesting vocabulary and words things interestingly but I get what she is talking about. Basically.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
It was a dream
This week I am deciding to blog about It was a dream by Lucille Clifton. I decided to blog about this poem because it was really interesting and a tad bit confusing, not gonna lie. However, i'm not scared to blog about my response to this poem so we're good. Aaaaanyways back to my blog. This was another poem that gave me really good imagery as I read it. I could see the wild woman with her crazy hair and wild eyes. I really understood this poem at the beginning, but at the end I was lost. Well particularly the This. This. This part made no sense to me. Also I didn't know what "gyre of rage" was. So i looked it up and it actually means: a swirling, spiral, vortex of anger. That's harsh, she was not a happy greater self apparently.
From this poem, I gathered (meaning wise) that this women (who was probably Clifton) had a dream in which her greater self (who I think was her image of what she wanted to be or her pure and good self) and her greater self was not happy with who she had become and what she had made of her self.
I feel like this poem is about Clifton reflecting on her life and what she had accomplished in it and the person that she was becoming.
From this poem, I gathered (meaning wise) that this women (who was probably Clifton) had a dream in which her greater self (who I think was her image of what she wanted to be or her pure and good self) and her greater self was not happy with who she had become and what she had made of her self.
I feel like this poem is about Clifton reflecting on her life and what she had accomplished in it and the person that she was becoming.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Alone
This week I decided to do my blog on Alone by Edgar Allen Poe. Alone struck me as a typical Edgar Allen Poe because of it's dark and kind of sad nature. Just the title is a little sad because being alone is only alright for so long. I actually kind of connected to this poem. I have never really had a plethora of friends, I mean I always had friends just not a whole ton. I was always kind of on the outskirts of things, seeing things kind of different then everyone else.
Anyways, as I read this poem I read it out loud. At first I was rasping the meaning of the poem but as I got toward the end of the poem I could only focus on the rhyme scheme. It was more or less, an AA BB structure. When I finished reading it I had to go back and read it a few more times in my head so that I could focus on the words of the poem in it's entirety.
As Poe claims there was a "demon in his view". I saw this as what he felt was keeping him from being like everyone else. I believe that it was not a demon at all though. It would be absurd for everyone to see things in the same way. We need people who think different than everyone else, people who are not 'average'. Just look at Poe. He was by no means 'average' but created many great pieces of writing.
Anyways, as I read this poem I read it out loud. At first I was rasping the meaning of the poem but as I got toward the end of the poem I could only focus on the rhyme scheme. It was more or less, an AA BB structure. When I finished reading it I had to go back and read it a few more times in my head so that I could focus on the words of the poem in it's entirety.
As Poe claims there was a "demon in his view". I saw this as what he felt was keeping him from being like everyone else. I believe that it was not a demon at all though. It would be absurd for everyone to see things in the same way. We need people who think different than everyone else, people who are not 'average'. Just look at Poe. He was by no means 'average' but created many great pieces of writing.
Hamlet Act I Summary
In this Act, we left off with Cornelius allowing Laerties to return to France.
After that, Hamlet is left alone and his friends arrive and tell him about the ghost of his father that they saw in the graveyard. Hamlet is so excited by this news that he wants to see for himself and plans to meet his friends where they claim to have seen the ghost and try to speak with it.
After these plans are made the play turns focus to Laerties and Ophelia. Laerties warns Ophelia that Hamlet does not really love her and to be cautious around him instead of opening up and falling in love with him as well. Polonius, their father, enters and tells Laerties to go to France now and then asks Ophelia what her and Laerties were speaking about. Ophelia tells her father about Hamlet and Polonius tells Ophelia the same thing; to stay away from Hamlet. Ophelia obeys.
The play then switches focus back to Hamlet who is waiting to see his fathers ghost with his friends. His fathers ghost appears and beckons Hamlet to follow him but Hamlet's friends do not want Hamlet to follow the ghost and so they try to hold him back. Hamlet frees from their grip and follows after the ghost but his friends follow him as well. When Hamlet is alone with the ghost, the ghost tells him about how he is paying for his sins and has to walk the Earth at night because he is still troubled and seeking justice. Hamlet Sr. tells Hamlet how he really died and that he was murdered by his brother, the new King of Denmark. The ghost asks Hamlet to seek justice for what was done and Hamlet tells him he will.
Hamlet's friends catch up with him and ask about what happened but Hamlet just makes them swear not to say anything about what they had seen or heard of the ghost. As his friends are trying to swear, the ghost keeps saying "swear" and so Hamlet gets frustrated and finally just ignores the ghosts cries.
After that, Hamlet is left alone and his friends arrive and tell him about the ghost of his father that they saw in the graveyard. Hamlet is so excited by this news that he wants to see for himself and plans to meet his friends where they claim to have seen the ghost and try to speak with it.
After these plans are made the play turns focus to Laerties and Ophelia. Laerties warns Ophelia that Hamlet does not really love her and to be cautious around him instead of opening up and falling in love with him as well. Polonius, their father, enters and tells Laerties to go to France now and then asks Ophelia what her and Laerties were speaking about. Ophelia tells her father about Hamlet and Polonius tells Ophelia the same thing; to stay away from Hamlet. Ophelia obeys.
The play then switches focus back to Hamlet who is waiting to see his fathers ghost with his friends. His fathers ghost appears and beckons Hamlet to follow him but Hamlet's friends do not want Hamlet to follow the ghost and so they try to hold him back. Hamlet frees from their grip and follows after the ghost but his friends follow him as well. When Hamlet is alone with the ghost, the ghost tells him about how he is paying for his sins and has to walk the Earth at night because he is still troubled and seeking justice. Hamlet Sr. tells Hamlet how he really died and that he was murdered by his brother, the new King of Denmark. The ghost asks Hamlet to seek justice for what was done and Hamlet tells him he will.
Hamlet's friends catch up with him and ask about what happened but Hamlet just makes them swear not to say anything about what they had seen or heard of the ghost. As his friends are trying to swear, the ghost keeps saying "swear" and so Hamlet gets frustrated and finally just ignores the ghosts cries.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Untitled. With some side notes.
Okay, let me just start off by saying that in my most recent blog: a summary of Act II of Hamlet was wrong. I realized after I got to class the following day that we were supposed to summarize the rest of Act I, so that was uh my bad. In my defense, it was still a rather good summary. Now on to my poem blog.
I chose to do this blog on Untitled by Stephen Crane because I really enjoyed this poem. The first time that I read this poem was in class so I had a chance to hear what other people had to say and that helped make sense of it a little. While everyone talked about the poem in class I listened but I figured i'd think about it again later. I got home (actually I just re read it before I wrote this) and had another look at it. This poem is really cool. When I read this poem I didn't really visualize some beast with an abundance of hair all over it's body, I saw a small vulnerable creature. I saw something that looked like that little guy on The Ring, I can't recall his name. I just imagined this little thing eating a heart with blood everywhere but as I get closer I don't fear this creature but instead am intrigued.
Honestly, I was confused about why this creature was eating it's own heart if it liked it. What I gathered from this poem was that his heart was bitter, therefore he was bitter but he didn't mind because that was how HE was so he liked it anyways. The confusion comes in the form of a question: "If he liked his heart like he said, why did he eat it?" It may be reading too deeply into it or questioning unnecessary details about this poem but I still felt that it was a valid question.
Another thing is that after I read this poem I thought about myself, did I feel this way? DO I really like myself how I am, bitterness and all? Yes, I do like my heart "Because it is MY heart."
This poem just seemed like a unusual way of saying that you have to like yourself for who you are and the way you are because it is you, yes?
I chose to do this blog on Untitled by Stephen Crane because I really enjoyed this poem. The first time that I read this poem was in class so I had a chance to hear what other people had to say and that helped make sense of it a little. While everyone talked about the poem in class I listened but I figured i'd think about it again later. I got home (actually I just re read it before I wrote this) and had another look at it. This poem is really cool. When I read this poem I didn't really visualize some beast with an abundance of hair all over it's body, I saw a small vulnerable creature. I saw something that looked like that little guy on The Ring, I can't recall his name. I just imagined this little thing eating a heart with blood everywhere but as I get closer I don't fear this creature but instead am intrigued.
Honestly, I was confused about why this creature was eating it's own heart if it liked it. What I gathered from this poem was that his heart was bitter, therefore he was bitter but he didn't mind because that was how HE was so he liked it anyways. The confusion comes in the form of a question: "If he liked his heart like he said, why did he eat it?" It may be reading too deeply into it or questioning unnecessary details about this poem but I still felt that it was a valid question.
Another thing is that after I read this poem I thought about myself, did I feel this way? DO I really like myself how I am, bitterness and all? Yes, I do like my heart "Because it is MY heart."
This poem just seemed like a unusual way of saying that you have to like yourself for who you are and the way you are because it is you, yes?
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Hamlet Act 2 Summary
This act had a couple different stories going on at once.
Basically, at the beginning Polonius is speaking with Reynaldo and telling him to go to Paris to find out if his son is doing what he is supposed to and not messing around.
After that, Polonius speaks with Ophelia about Hamlet's love for her and Polonius feels that Hamlet has gone crazy because of his love for Ophelia.
Meanwhile at the palace, the king and queen have summoned Hamlet's old friends and some actors to try to cheer up Hamlet and make him feel better.
\Polonius goes to the castle and tells the king and queen of his thoughts about Hamlet being crazy in love and the three of them plan on tricking Hamlet into admitting his love for Ophelia.
Polonius speaks with Hamlet but Hamlet does not realize that he is Ophelia's father and refers to him as old man.
When the actors arrive, Hamlet realizes that the king and queen have summoned them and they act a little for him.
At the end, Hamlet is left alone and he reflects his feelings about his father dying. He suspects that his uncle, the new king, killed his father in order to take the thrown and he plans on exposing his uncle's evil deed by having him watch a play that will supposedly prove whether he did kill his brother, the late king, or not.
The End.
Basically, at the beginning Polonius is speaking with Reynaldo and telling him to go to Paris to find out if his son is doing what he is supposed to and not messing around.
After that, Polonius speaks with Ophelia about Hamlet's love for her and Polonius feels that Hamlet has gone crazy because of his love for Ophelia.
Meanwhile at the palace, the king and queen have summoned Hamlet's old friends and some actors to try to cheer up Hamlet and make him feel better.
\Polonius goes to the castle and tells the king and queen of his thoughts about Hamlet being crazy in love and the three of them plan on tricking Hamlet into admitting his love for Ophelia.
Polonius speaks with Hamlet but Hamlet does not realize that he is Ophelia's father and refers to him as old man.
When the actors arrive, Hamlet realizes that the king and queen have summoned them and they act a little for him.
At the end, Hamlet is left alone and he reflects his feelings about his father dying. He suspects that his uncle, the new king, killed his father in order to take the thrown and he plans on exposing his uncle's evil deed by having him watch a play that will supposedly prove whether he did kill his brother, the late king, or not.
The End.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Heritage
Well. I forgot to blog this past weekend. This is going to be a very busy second semester, I can tell. Sorry i'm so late Mrs. White! Here's my blog for 1-9-11:
I'm writing this blog about the poem Heritage by James Still. First of all, let me just go over some background knowledge on Mr. Still himself. He was an amazing man. Mr. Still was born in 1906 in Lafayette, Alabama into a rather large, Appalachian, family. He was a man who, instead of being wrapped up in himself, cared about world causes and issues. He served in World War II as well as making it through graduate school. Still traveled to many countries around the world and studied the many different cultures it had to offer. Still cared very deeply about culture and heritage, it was a topic that was very near to his heart which explains a lot about his poem Heritage.
In the poem Heritage, Still mentions several times that he is unable to leave his place of birth. As if he were born in a small tribe in the mountains, at least that's what I pictured. It's funny because in reading this poem, I got a sense like even though he referred to this place as "prisoning" he didn't want to leave. His roots and past is in the place he says he cannot escape. I saw the reason for him not being able to leave as being figurative. He can leave whenever he wants, but he can't leave his heritage. His heritage is too important to him to leave behind.
I really like this poem, it is cool.
I'm writing this blog about the poem Heritage by James Still. First of all, let me just go over some background knowledge on Mr. Still himself. He was an amazing man. Mr. Still was born in 1906 in Lafayette, Alabama into a rather large, Appalachian, family. He was a man who, instead of being wrapped up in himself, cared about world causes and issues. He served in World War II as well as making it through graduate school. Still traveled to many countries around the world and studied the many different cultures it had to offer. Still cared very deeply about culture and heritage, it was a topic that was very near to his heart which explains a lot about his poem Heritage.
In the poem Heritage, Still mentions several times that he is unable to leave his place of birth. As if he were born in a small tribe in the mountains, at least that's what I pictured. It's funny because in reading this poem, I got a sense like even though he referred to this place as "prisoning" he didn't want to leave. His roots and past is in the place he says he cannot escape. I saw the reason for him not being able to leave as being figurative. He can leave whenever he wants, but he can't leave his heritage. His heritage is too important to him to leave behind.
I really like this poem, it is cool.
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