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.

Acquainted with the Night

Acquainted with the Night by Robert Frost is kind of a depressing poem. With this poem came incredible visual imagery, however. As I read this poem, I could see the man walking with his head held low walking slowly through a dimly lit city at night. I think that this poem is a metaphor, I don't think that Frost walks around at night and sulks. I feel like Frost has had bad times in his life where things felt dark and he dropped his head.

In this poem, he mentions a far off cry that isn't summoning or talking to him, but I feel like that scream does have to do with him or he would not have put it in the poem. By the scream, I think that Frost is referring to the feeling that life was going on all around him but he did not notice during those dark times. Not only did he not pay much attention to life around him, but life wasn't really paying him much attention either. When Frost was depressed this way, he probably felt like no one cared about him. No one bothered to see what was wrong (not to call me back) or even even acknowledge the fact that he was changing or did exist (or say good-by).

I really enjoyed this poem, because it is really well written even though it is kind of dark. It almost makes one feel sorry for Frost, or whoever this poem is about. Bravo Frost, you brought some emotion out of me while I read this poem.

Curiosity

Curiosity by Alastair Reid is a really cool poem. I don't really know how to describe this poem, it's just kind of incredible. Even though Reid wrote about a cat, this poem isn't humerus it ponders life. People do say that curiosity is a bad thing, but Reid gave a very good argument as to why it isn't a bad thing at all.

Personally, I agree with Reid. In this poem, he talks about how if you're not curious then life would be rather dull. What would life be without questions. People need to question and find things out because if not, then there would never be any growth or change. If Martin Luther King and Malcolm X hadn't questioned then blacks would still be slaves and they wouldn't be free today. Another way that I look at it is that if you are always under the rule of certain people, who's to say that those rulers are right? Sometimes, you just have to find out things for yourself. That's the beauty of being individuals: each persons questions, struggles, and accomplishments are what make them who they are.

My favorite line of this poem is:

Dying is what, to live, each has to do.

In order to truly live your life, you cant be afraid of death and when you do die hopefully you were happy with what you did while you were alive.

Pie Makes You Fat

Pie is good
Pie is great
So much pie upon my plate
Chocolate pecan pumpkin and more
Eating pie is never a bore

When its all gone
And my belly is full
I sit
Glued to my couch
And think to myself

That pie was good
That pie was great
That was so much pie that I ate

The Possibility

The possibility by James Fenton is an incredible poem, and my favorite out of this packet. To me, this poem is beautiful and so vivid. I can feel what Fenton is saying, it is very easy to connect to. When I finished reading this poem in class, I just sat there staring at it for a minute. For some reason, I just felt that it was really well worded and it just gave me chills.

I connected to this poem, which was cool because usually it's hard to explain how I am feeling but this poem explained perfectly. I am the oldest of three girls and because I am, I have to take a lot of responsibility for a lot of things. I have to do things for myself as I get older. My two younger siblings need a lot more attention than me so I have kind of became more quiet in a lot of ways. I usually keep to myself and do what I can to help when I can. The lines that I connected to and saw myself in were:

I know this flower is beautiful,
And yesterday it seemed to be.
It opened like a crimson hand.
It was not beautiful to me.
...
The flower closes like a fist.
The possibility recedes.

I'm a pretty reserved person because usually, when I try to say something or open up I feel like I get shut down. The other day, my friends were talking about politics and I threw in a comment about my views. Immediately after I said it, my friend told me (in a round about way) that I was wrong. I just felt like what I had to say wasn't even valid. Like I had no idea what I was talking about. Needless to say, I kept my mouth shut for the rest of that conversation. Who knows, I could have actually made a really valid point but I didn't push anything. I closed right up.

I'm not quiet because I like being silent and have nothing to say, i'm quiet because I know if I say something someone will tell me that i'm wrong in some way. It's kind of difficult to explain why I like this poem so much. I tried to talk to my friend about it after we read it and they looked at me like 'okay...sure it's a great poem?' But I like it, I connect to it.

The Snow Man

The Snow Man by Wallace Steven was a cool poem. Honestly, the only reason I did this poem was because it made me think of winters. Winters up North, and I miss those winters. I love mass amounts of snow and up there, I was never disappointed in the amount of snow delivered in a winter.  I have made so many snowmen in my life, that this poem just makes me think of all of them and all of the time and care that went into making them.

The end of the poem is definitely my favorite part of this poem because it just makes me think of the peaceful and silent snowmen that weren't just inanimate objects, but they were listening and observing.

For the listener, who listens in the snow.

I just really like that line because it just feels peaceful and makes me think of a calm winter day. In the morning when the sun is glistening off of the snow and everything is so quiet and peaceful. I like this poem because it has such great imagery, I feel like i'm looking out a window at a freshly created snowman.

On Reading a Poem to a Senior Class At South High

On Reading a Poem to a Senior Class At South High by D.C. Berry was a really cool poem. I had to read it a few times though, before I fully understood it. It helps because I am a senior in high school so I know exactly how crazy senior classes can be. When there is a room full of kids that don't want to be there and are loud and obnoxious, it is extremely difficult to teach anything to. I liked how Berry made it into a humerus thing, comparing it to an aquarium.

After I read this poem, I did some research on D.C. Berry and found that he grew up with a humerus father, which is probably where he got his humor from. Also, he started writing poems out of boredom in church and went on to become a really famous author, which is pretty nifty. Also, I feel like he went to South High School in Mississippi, but after I made that connection I couldn't go check. We recently switched internet services and the new one is terribly slow and it's rather irritating. It took ten minutes just for this page to load to let me blog right now. I hate computers. My point is, that Berry grew up around humor, was a great student, and this poem makes perfect sense considering he probably went to South High.

When I read this poem, I felt like Berry was a big loser. Who names their cat Queen Elizabeth? Only a loser. When I pictured Berry, I just pictured a timid, nerdy guy who went to read to a high school class and no one really paid attention to him as it usually is and then he returned home to be a lonely recluse once again. It could be that I read way too far into this poem and that's the main reason I liked it, but in any case I really enjoyed this poem. Good work Berry.