She Breathes Art was a close runner up for me. I also read her blog the most throughout the semester. I think we shared a common interest not only in poets but the way we look at them. 

Thanks for all the great posts and good luck to everyone!

“Hope” is the thing with feathers #254

By Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I’ve heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.

I chose this poem this week because I need a little pick me up. This poem allows the reader to find hope in their lives,no matter how severe the circumstance.

The first stanza talks about a metaphoric bird that lives within us. Although the bird may not know the song of hope, it sings the tune for as long as you need it.

The second stanza talks about how the song is heard and the pain is strong yet that little bird that protects us and gives us hope, doesn’t give in or give up.

The third stanza continues to talk about the song of hope and how it can be heard in the harshest conditions and even at its limits, even at its breaking points, it never gives is and is always there for you wanting nothing in return.

Emily Dickinson was pretty much a hermit, so for her to write about hope seems uplifting to me. Just because she didn’t socialize with much of the world, doesn’t mean she doesn’t have faith and hope in it. I think that one needs to have some form of faith to have hope; you need to believe in it in order to have hope.

I like this poem because no matter what, hope is there. Hope as a little bird could be surprising because one would view it to be fragile but it also has the ability to soar around any obstacles in its way.  The iambic tri-meter, the capitalization, the hyphens, and the loose rhyme scheme, all allow the flow of the poem to emphasize the spiritual power that it exerts. I believe that although the little bird (hope) will always be there for you, and has the power to stand through the toughest of times,  you must have the strength to call on it when you need it. Hope will never ask for anything in return but you need to ask it for help in the first place. 

To A President
By Walt Whitman

ALL you are doing and saying is to America dangled mirages,
You have not learn’d of Nature–of the politics of Nature, you have
not learn’d the great amplitude, rectitude, impartiality;
You have not seen that only such as they are for These States,
And that what is less than they, must sooner or later lift off from
These States.

“To A President” by Whitman was very difficult for me to interpret. Whitman often writes about nature but when he addresses the president about the “politics of Nature”, I begin to question the content.  Here are two ways that I can see this poem could be interpreted:

First, the poem speaks directly to the president.  The speaker accuses the president that all he is saying and doing is to appease the American people; filling their heads with delusions. In doing so, he has not “learn’d” or is not being true to his character. He is not demonstrating true greatness, integrity or equality, which are the core characteristics that one expects a president to possess. The speaker says that these are also the fundamental characteristics for our country and if we do not possess these things we need to rise up to achieve them.

The other interpretation still speaks directly to the president but it addresses power not character.  The speaker still claims that the president lures America with things they want to hear. Yet the power of his words is no comparison of that of nature. The fact that the word nature is capitalized makes it a proper noun, giving nature more meaning and character.  When the poem states,” you have not learn’d the great amplitude, rectitude, impartiality” I believe it means that the president does not know the importance, and goodness that our country is made up of and therefore needs to take that into account.  At this time, I even wonder if the president is an actual president or any person of authority or power.

My thoughts about this poem still lean towards the first interpretation because it was my first impression. I think of this upcoming election and both candidates’ claims. Whoever you personally prefer, they both make claims of change. However, as great as it all sounds, some of it may not go down the way they plan it to.  I think about Obama’s platform on green energy and using nature and technology to become less dependent on other countries for oil.  In this case, maybe both interpretations come together.  Based on his platform, Obama could use his presidential power, to work with the powers of Mother Nature so that America can hold itself accountable for its future in energy sufficiency. 

“I Am Vertical”     By Sylvia Plath

But I would rather be horizontal.
I am not a tree with my root in the soil
Sucking up minerals and motherly love
So that each March I may gleam into leaf,
Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed
Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,
Unknowing I must soon unpetal.
Compared with me, a tree is immortal
And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,
And I want the one’s longevity and the other’s daring.

Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars,
The trees and flowers have been strewing their cool odors.
I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.
Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping
I must most perfectly resemble them–
Thoughts gone dim.
It is more natural to me, lying down.
Then the sky and I are in open conversation,
And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:
Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me. 

This poem speaks about the connection of life and death. The speaker of the poem feels insignificant until she is as one with death.

The first stanza talks about how the reader compares herself to the trees and the flowers.  She says that the tree interacts with Mother Nature, relying on it for food and nutrition so after the cold winter, she may be revived. In this way, the tree is immortal; coming close to death in fall and winter and regaining life come spring. She then compares herself to flowers. She admires their beauty and their naivety of death. She wishes she had the life span of a tree and the sweetness that the flowers offer.

The second Stanza talks about looking up at the star-packed sky, while walking among those flowers and trees that ignore her presence. As she lies, she feels a connection with the sky believes in this moment she may simulate being one with nature.  Yet, she knows it is not until she lays in her final resting place will she truly be acknowledged by the trees and the flowers.

I like how the title of the open goes straight into the poem itself. It sets the tone and theme of the poem with grace. I also like the line about the roots “Sucking up minerals and motherly love.” Mother Nature doesn’t just supply nutrients but spirit and life.

I feel that this is a sad poem and how the speaker does not feel worthwhile or purposeful until she has decomposed into the earth. But maybe it’s not until death (or the realization that we are not immortal) that we truly know our purpose here. Looking up at the stars can open your mind to the possibilities and how insignificant we are compared to this vast universe. It inspires and humbles us in a single glance.

“I am Vertical” by Sylvia Plath certainly makes us think about purpose and of life and death. The poem reads with splendor so that the reader is not so troubled with the daunting idea of death.

“The Sloth” By Theodore Roethke

In moving-slow he has no Peer.

You ask him something in his Ear,

He thinks about it for a Year;

And, then, before he says a Word

There, upside down (unlike a Bird),

He will assume that you have Heard–

A most Ex-as-per-at-ing Lug.

But should you call his manner Smug,

He’ll sigh and give his Branch a Hug;

Then off again to Sleep he goes,

Still swaying gently by his Toes,

And you just know he knows he knows.

As summer fades and winter creeps up slowly, it seems to become harder and harder to get out of bed.  The “Sloth” by Theodore Roethke is a playful poem where an animal’s characteristic can personify someone’s all- knowing attitude can leave you satisfied but alone.

“The Sloth” is about this lonely slow moving animal is not only content in its way of living but makes it as thought it’s a better way of life.  Roethke personifies the sloth as an intelligent animal for it has all the time in the world to ponder thoughts and then whatever he is thinking becomes so simple and clean to him that he assumes that everyone else will see things that way too. At the end of the poem the line “And you just know he knows he knows.” reiterates his smugness because the reader can visualize this haughty smile on his face as he hangs at peace.

The structure of this poem is very simple. Roethke’s rhyme scheme is each line in each stanza rhymes (aaa, bbb, ccc, ddd). What I find more interesting is his use of punctuation to slow down the poem so much so that the reader themselves become sloth-like. In the line “A most Ex-as-per-at-ing Lug.” the hyphens exaggerate and elongate the word exasperating to further annoy the reader with how slow this animal actually is. Roethke also calls attention to capitalization to bring the readers attention to certain words of importance.

By Pablo Neruda

 I want you to know

one thing.

You know how this is:

if I look

at the crystal moon, at the red branch

of the slow autumn at my window,

if I touch

near the fire

the impalpable ash

or the wrinkled body of the log,

everything carries me to you,

as if everything that exists,

aromas, light, metals,

were little boats

that sail

toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,

if little by little you stop loving me

I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly

you forget me

do not look for me,

for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,

the wind of banners

that passes through my life,

and you decide

to leave me at the shore

of the heart where I have roots,

remember

that on that day,

at that hour,

I shall lift my arms

and my roots will set off

to seek another land.

But

if each day,

each hour,

you feel that you are destined for me

with implacable sweetness,

if each day a flower

climbs up to your lips to seek me,

ah my love, ah my own,

in me all that fire is repeated,

in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,

my love feeds on your love, beloved,

and as long as you live it will be in your arms

without leaving mine.

This Chilean poet writes a lot about love but what I like about his poems is that they it on the truths of love.  “If You Forget Me” is a poem about broken love and that with time, if you have gotten over me, I will have already done the same. The twist is at the end when the lover is over his heartache yet, as soon as his lover wants to be together again, all is forgotten and all the love is reignited like a blazing fire. This poem didn’t catch me until that happened because that’s how love is. It’s not that the narrator ever really stops thinking about his lover or really got over them but he would of if he had to. So, when his lover decided that they still loved him, a huge weight is lifted and is felt both by the narrator and the reader.

The last few lines actually reminds me of the E.E. Cummings’ poem “ i carry your hear with me”.  I feel that both poets speak about how love has this ability to connect people so closely that even when one is gone, those people are still connected weather they know it or not. Both poems use “roots” as a metaphor and other language to describe their relationship to love and their lovers. Although each poet is talking about different aspects of love and relationships, I like that similar words and phrases moved around, can say completely different things.

I like this poem because it reads like the heart feels. There are a lot of metaphors but I feel that love is so complicated; we must constantly compare it to everything else in the world. Pablo Neruda writes about love so purely as if he truly experienced this situation first hand.

By Lewis Carroll

“SISTER, sister, go to bed!

Go and rest your weary head.”

Thus the prudent brother said.

“Do you want a battered hide,

Or scratches to your face applied?”

Thus his sister calm replied.

“Sister, do not raise my wrath.

I’d make you into mutton broth

As easily as kill a moth”

The sister raised her beaming eye

And looked on him indignantly

And sternly answered, “Only try!”

Off to the cook he quickly ran.

“Dear Cook, please lend a frying-pan

To me as quickly as you can.”

And wherefore should I lend it you?”

“The reason, Cook, is plain to view.

I wish to make an Irish stew.”

“What meat is in that stew to go?”

“My sister’ll be the contents!”

“Oh”

“You’ll lend the pan to me, Cook?”

“No!”

Moral: Never stew your sister.

I chose this playful poem by Lewis Carroll because my brother came home this past weekend after many months of travel. My brother and I are very close, but when we were younger, we would quarrel much like in this poem. “Brother and Sister” is a silly poem that will surely bring a smile to your face.

Each stanza generally rhymes at the end of every line and reads in a singsong rhythm. The back and forth banter gives the poem motion. As we read lines from brother to sister, to brother, to sister, to brother, to cook… to brother, the reader bounces like a ping-pong ball. Whose side are we on anyways?

I really enjoy the sister’s first stanza. “’Do you want a battered hide, / Or scratches to your face applied?’/ Thus his sister calm replied.”  Although the sister is younger, her feisty remarks are said calmly and because of that, with wit. The brother may be older, but that never means that the sister will admit that he knows better.

“Brother and Sister” is one of Carroll’s shorter poems but regardless of its length, most of them have morals to them. Whether the moral is serious or not, depends on the poem itself, but generally, it is light hearted. The moral “never stew your sister” may be silly like the poem, but maybe Carroll was using the informal meaning of stew, which means to worry or agitate.  Maybe?  Speaking on the behalf of a little sister, I’d like to think so.

I really wanted to write about this poem because I found it truly inspirational. Maya Angelou is known for many things including a writer, an actress, director and producer, a civil- rights activist and much more. In her poetry, stanzas of free flowing rhythm are saturated with wisdom and hope.

“Phenomenal Women” speaks about why this woman gets so much attention (from both men and women) although she is not the “typical” beautiful and attractive woman.

The first stanza reads:
“Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.”

This stanza opens up the dialogue to the expectations that women are to uphold. Angelou lists a number of things that make her different than those expectations while having the confidence in herself to claim that she is Phenomenal.

The next few stanzas talk about how men go crazy for her and can’t explain why, why is she such an enigma, and why she is able to have this admirable confidence. In each stanza she claims, “It’s in the….” And calls attention to her humble yet uplifting attributes. At the end of each stanza she reiterates “I’m a woman/ Phenomenally/ Phenomenal woman,/ That’s me.”. This repetition creates that powerful confidence throughout the whole poem.

My favorite lines of this poem are:
“I walk into a room/ Just as cool as you please,/ And to a man,/ The fellows stand or/ Fall down on their knees./ Then they swarm around me,/ A hive of honey bees.”
Maya Angelou speaks from what she knows and her lines come off as truthful because of how she phrases things. I could hear her speaking these lines as if she was gossiping with her girlfriends. And I love how she personifies the men into bees though the play of the word swarm. The vision of masses of men falling to their knees and then they all drop like flies as she rejects everyone that isn’t deserving makes me kind of laugh.

I love this poem because it is all those little things that people are self-conscious about that, when embraced, are what make us beautiful individuals. The rhythm of this poem is so smooth that it helps the reader emphasize key words and phrases to get the point of the poem across perfectly. Maybe I’m a little bit of a feminist but I think that this poem is a great example of giving those whom may not be beautiful in the public eye to have composure and assurance to know that they are definitely beautiful and deserving.

THE WORLD BELOW THE BRINE

by: Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

The world below the brine,

Forests at the bottom of the sea, the branches and leaves,

Sea-lettuce, vast lichens, strange flowers and seeds, the thick tangle openings, and pink turf,

Different colors, pale gray and green, purple, white, and gold, the play of light through the water,

Dumb swimmers there among the rocks, coral, gluten, grass, rushes, and the aliment of the swimmers,

Sluggish existences grazing there suspended, or slowly crawling close to the bottom,

The sperm-whale at the surface blowing air and spray, or disporting with his flukes,

The leaden-eyed shark, the walrus, the turtle, the hairy sea-leopard, and the sting-ray,

Passions there, wars, pursuits, tribes, sight in those ocean-depths, breathing that thick-breathing air, as so many do,

The change thence to the sight here, and to the subtle air breathed by beings like us who walk this sphere,

The change onward from ours to that of beings who walk other spheres.

     Whitman’s “The World Below the Brine” seems to be simple but allows one to drown themselves in uncharted waters. I have a slight interest in marine life, but even so, I found myself looking up terms like lichens and flukes. His descriptions are full with vivid imagery. As he speaks about the colors of the plants and animals and how the light shines though the water, I envision myself capturing a beautiful endangered coral reef with an underwater camera. I can feel the rhythm of the rocking boat as the salty mist from the sperm whale’s blowhole sticks to my skin (sounds sexual-is there more to this poem than I thought?) Even calling the ocean brine reminds me of the smells of the rocky jetties of Rockport (that, or a big old jar of pickles). 

     Actually, after reading the poem again a few times, does the deep blue sea sound so majestic?  Pale gray and green waters infested with gluten and grass — gross.  And hairy sea- leopards and walruses are not the most attractive animals. It’s all besides the point. Overall, I think the poem is about what lies beneath the water’s surface and why we, as a species, are so fascinated and amazed by it all. 

         I think its because the oceans are the last thing left on earth to discover.  After years and years of using the oceans for travel and trade, leisure and war, as well as science and lore, there is so much left undiscovered, untouched. If those things that we have discovered are so strange and foreign to us, than just think of the possibilities of what else is down there.  The lines,  “The change thence to the sight here, and to the subtle air breathed by beings like us who walk this sphere, /The change onward from ours to that of beings who walk other spheres.” Allow one to appreciate the beauty that the oceans have to offer while giving one to dream about the potential of what else is out there.