Representing America - American Literature AP - Blog

Music Poetry Mix!

For your listening pleasure, here is our class mix of songs you would defend as poetry:

Music Poetry - American Literature

I'm planning on making it the soundtrack for the class for the rest of the year. You have no one to blame but yourself :)

If you have Spotify, you should be able to listen to most of the mix. Songs by the Beatles and the Eagles are not available through Spotify, but I do have them on the mix I'll play in class.

Enjoy!

 

Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming

There are many ways to express ideas and emotions. Some use poetry, some use art, and some use music. Music can sometimes be considered poetry because of its use of literary devices, clever wording, and gifted ideas. Although some people protest certain songs or artists because they don’t agree with the language or message the artist is expressing, many people depend on music for comfort and encouragement. One of my favorite artists, Jack’s Mannequin, writes incredible and inspirational music.

Almost all the songs by Andrew McMahon, the lead singer of Jack’s Mannequin, are connected to his life. He was diagnosed with leukemia at the age of 23 and almost died because of his disease. However, he recovered, and with his sister’s bone marrow transplant, he survived. Many of his songs are inspirational and directed towards his illness. In fact, one of his songs is titled “There, There, Katie,” is for his sister, Katie, and it praises Katie for her help and support. Another song, “Swim,” explains that it is possible to get through hard times. Therefore, some songs can be seen as more than just music; they are inspirational and beautiful pieces of art that represent many emotions.

Below is the video for "Swim" by Jack's Mannequin.

 

Your Grandmother's Bed, your Mood Swings.

Such a simple poem, yet so personal and imaginative, and maybe, perhaps, a bit over dramatic. I can't necessarily nitpick at his descriptiveness or his personal opinion, but first off, let me just put it out there that I honestly do not think sleeping in his grandmother's apartment, with her, in her bed, was terribly that bad. I think that while writing this poem, maybe, Edward Hirch wanted each stanza to have a different tone, or layer which expressed an inner part of his mind-- each stanza  set a different effect, a different mood or feeling (excitement, love, annoyance, relief, nostalgic-- I think), a different image to tie along with his simple yet detailed description. At first, I thought to myself, as Hirch is writing this, he has a some what nostalgic tone-- observing his grandmother's actions and Murphy bed with excitement, and to what came off to me as child-like wonder and innocence. Through the second stanza, I was still holding strong to my opinion that this was a poem solely admiring his grandmother's bed and perhaps just enjoying her presence, but as it continued, the third stanza, I felt like everything he had previously said was contradicted-- it was not that exciting, nor great to be sleeping on wheels. Finally, towards the fourth, I noticed his great relief to wake up, just to be off the bed, just to see his grandmother's face. While sleeping, he was out of place, out of his comfort zone, obviously, and perhaps regretting his visit to his grandmother's house for a quick moment? Who's to say. Either way, finally, towards the end, he was back to a more happier note (not as excited, but satisfied), his tone was lighter, and it seemed as if he had just taken a moment to just being around his grandmother, which, personally, I think it's all about.

Nature?

I never thought that the Ralph Waldo Emerson my old middle school used to be named after was such a complex thinker,  such a multi-demensional mind, such a pioneer in the exquisite art form of writing. The portion of his mind-boggeling essay, Nature, that we were asked to read was one of the most plainly stated, yet thoroughly complex pieces I think I've ever read. Not to make a completely superficial comparison, but I reminded me of Inception, so many layers, yet all tied together to mean one thing! It starts off rather quaint with a sentence:  "To go into solitude, a man needs to retire as much from his chamber as from society". Immediately, in an instant, it's clear what the essay's about. But as it continues, the level ground you thought you once had with his writing is gone-- at least for me. Emerson seemed to through so many ideas in the short snippet I read, yet, they all relate together hand and hand, not just to the topic, but to each other...hence, the name "Nature" because everything forms as one in harmony, right? Each sentence was well constructed, I feel as if he wrote this so it could not be fully declared as one specific meaning, but instead like an allegory, or a great debate-- something that can never truly be determined or eternally changing, like the seasons, or maybe, somewhere, under all those pretty sounding words and imagery, is just the true meaning of man and nature? One may never know. 

Poetry. Bam

I don't remember where I saw this, but I remember seeing this really cool kind of poetry. This man from Texas gathers newspapers and hunts for words he wants to use in his poems. All the words not used are blacked out. The poems came out in a really appealing way. It had weird rhythm to it and every word seemed like it had a deep meaning.

I don't usually like poetry all that much, but I am learning to appreciate it more. Poetry inspires creative minds and exposes people to a type of literature we are not used to. There is nothing else really that has that kind of an effect. It takes a while but I am sure I will learn to appreciate it because some of it is a truly beautiful form of art.

Bubble Poetry

When I think of poetry, I tend to think of stories written in bubbles. Sounds odd, no?

The way I see it, a poem is a way of telling a story, but the way it is written is like there are bubbles of words floating around, and depending on the bubbles you choose, when you let them "pop" onto your poem paper, various residues of those words remain, and make a poem. Or a story, as you will.

Basically, it's predominantly subconcious thought, but there is a little bit of active participation in the art of poetry. 

A poem that I feel is a good example of my viewpoint is "The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams.  The way it was written is in short bursts, like residual bubble matter on a paper. However, it still very clearly manages to convey a scene and feeling in eight lines! While he may have started thinking about wheelbarrows, or chickens, I personally think that he had an inkling of a thought and ran with it, letting the dreaming part of his mind rule his hand for a moment.

How do you imagine poetry?

 

The Red Wheelbarrow

By William Carlos Williams

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens. 

 

The Schizophrenic Poet

Since we just started working on poetry in class, I thought I'd introduce everyone to a poet who many of you probably have not heard of. He's never won an award for his poetry, nor been lauded as a great poet of his time. There is something quite unique about him though. Leopoldo Maria Panero has schizophrenia.

There is a sympton in some schizophrenic people known as word salads, where a person just throws words together even if they have no connection or meaning together. Panero seems to have this symptom, as shown by some of his poetry. An example of this is in his poem "Theory of Fear":

 

"I am a nest of ash
 
"where birds gather
 
"seeking the manna of shade
 
"the arrow stuck in the poem
 
"the insect's kiss."

 

The first three lines make sense, but the last two make no sense at all when put into context.

 

Even with symptoms such as this, he claims that nothing is wrong with him, even though he's been in physciatric wards since 1986. While he isn't famous, many people acknowledge he has immense talent as a poet.  Juan Antonio Masoliver, a literature professor at the University of Westminster in London says that Panero "is a man with a lot of talent" and that he "has what you could call a genius that practically no other Spanish poet has." Even with this great talent however it is not enough says Masolvier. The one critique he has of Panero is that he has grown repetitive and is not disciplined.

Nonetheless what Panero has done with his illness has been a tremendous feat. He has written five books of poetry, which not many people can say.

If anyone else knows of poets or any artists period that are lesser known yet interesting, I'd like to hear about them.

The Nefarious Truth

What is true? This is something we encounter every day of our lives. When a friend tells us they were up late last night studying, or when a teacher tells us there will be an assembly, or a pop quiz, or no homework, we are always questioning the validity of their statements. How true is what they say? When a teacher says there is no homework does he mean that you don't have to turn anything in, but you should read ahead for the discussion, or does he really mean go home and do whatever it is you do when you have free time because I am being nice?

In The Things They Carried, O'Brian also addresses this issue of truth. He begins the story entitled "How to Tell a True War Story" with the words "This is true"(67). But throughout the entire book he as the author, and you as the reader, begin to discover what really makes something true, especially in terms of war.

The way O'Brian tells some of his war stories reminds me of the poem Nefarious War by Li Po. Often American culture views war as heroic and manly, and often we forget some of the hard parts. We forget all the lives that are finished because of our army. We forget that when our soldier wins, another human being has been lost. O'Brian understands that killing is hard and that killing is evil, as we see from the guilt we feel as he imagines the life the man he has killed could have had. O'Brian says that a true war story must have a tint of evil in it, and as Li Po describes the way the soldiers kill, you can't help but cringe.

The barbarian does man-slaughter for plowing;
On his yellow sand-plains nothing has been seen but blanched skulls and bones....

In the battlefield men grapple each other and die;
The horses of the vanquished utter lamentable cries to heaven,
While ravens and kites peck at human entrails,
Carry them up in their flight, and hang them on the branches of dead trees.
So, men are scattered and smeared over the desert grass,
And the generals have accomplished nothing.

This poem reeks of evil. As O'Brian requires of a true war story, it turns my stomach.

O'Brian says that often in a true war story there is a "surreal seemingness" because it is difficult to separate what is true from what seems to be true. This is true in Li Po's poem as well. The way it is written, with so many metaphors, it is hard to tell what is true and what isn't and the poem almost seems like it is happening in a dream. 

O'Brian also stresses the lack of importance the facts should have. The story is about something more than what actually literally happened. Because this is a poem, there is no recitation of facts. You don't know who went where or who did what. But you feel the war. You can feel how the war feels to the poet. You feel like you are there, living the war, without even knowing where anyone was standing. This seems like the mark of a true war story.

To read the full poem Nefarious War by Li Po: click here