Word Choices - AP English Literature - Blog

A Poem A Day

On December 13th every year, St Lucia's Day, my mom gives me a book. Last year she gave me a book called "Poem A Day." It contains a poem for every day of the year. Todays poem is...

The Dark Hills

Dark hills at evening in the west,
Where sunset hovers like a sound
Of golden horns that sang to rest
Old bones of warriors under ground,
Far now from all the bannered ways
Where falsh the legions of the sun,
You fade - as if the last of days
Were fading and all wars were done.

-Edwin Arlington Robinson

I really liked this poem, the tone was soothing and the descriptions are beautiful in an erie sort of way. The comparison of the sunset to a sound is really engaging because a sunset is a sight and not usually comparable to a "sound of golden horns". There is a and extended metaphor of the sound of the sunsets, comparing it to golden horns that would be played at a funeral of an important and majestic man. The dark hills are a place of peace, unable to be touched by the 'bannered ways'. Then the audience is brought into the poem with the  phrase "you fade". There is a comparison between the audience and the legions of the sun fading behind the dark hills. It is very clear the the dark hills are a symbol of peace in the last line when the speaker says "all wars were done". This poem is so calming and at the same time has a sense of grandeur.                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Warning: Strange Storm Poetry

When we read the "Storm Warnings" poem in class and wrote the impromtu on it, I think that a lot of people were confused. I wrote that the metaphorical meaning was that the speaker was facing some sort of struggle, but it could not be specified. The way that the speaker deaded and prepared for the storm, I thought it was safe to infer that the struggle may be some kind of war, however, in class Mr. Heidkamp said we could not infer that. I know that war is not bluntly stated, but metaphors require inference, so I am curious if anyone else got this impression from the poem. Besides the essay prompt, I thought that the poem was very strange. I understand that there is an extended metaphor/analogy in it, but he extent that they speaker prepared for and feared the storm was a little much. Although I think that this poem would have been better without so much exaggeration, I really liked the personification of the storm because it almost felt like the storm was an enemy creeping up on the speaker and I liked the way that the poet captured that aspect of the metaphor.

"Sonnet"

The poem "Sonnet" on page 42 of the poetry book really struck me. This is my favorite poem that we have read thus far because it is simple, easy to follow, straight to the point, and clever. I really like the way that Billy Collins, the poet, created the sonnet as an example of what a sonnet is. However, instead of straight up announcing how many lines are necessary, what rhyming scheme is required and what topic should be written about, he allows his text to enact the diction. He also mentions the tricky types of sonnets such as Elizabethan, which I think adds an informational tone. The overall tone, however, remains light and somewhat comical. I also like that Collins fulfills the love requirement of his sonnet without making it sound gushy and boring. The last three lines, incorporating love, cracked my up. I give Collins props for his creativity and style in this poem. He's okay in my book (of poetry).

Guilty and Regret or Abuse and No Love?

One of my favorite poems that we have read so far is "Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden. It is not a poem that someone would read through once and automatically think, "I really do not understand this at all", yet in reality, it is so complex! To me, it appears so straight forward, but it is just fooling me! I automatically think that this is a poem about a child (probably a son) that is regretting never showing any affection towards his hard working father. The line, "No one ever thanked him", struck me a first as being conveyed in such a regretful, guilty way. Then, I read through it a few more times, and I saw that this poem could be suggesting that the father abused his son. With diction such as "blackblue cold", "cracked hands", and "chronic angers of that house", it makes me think of the father beating the son. The reason that the son was never thankful for all of his father hard work was because his father beat him, or it may be because the son never thanked his father that his father beat him. What are your guys thoughts about there being an abusive relationship in this poem?

Argument

In my personal opinion, Elizabeth Bishop is one of the most powerful poetic voices I have ever had the luck to come across. Her aptly entitled poem, Sestina, gave the reader insight into a terrible and familiar sadness--the one of inexplicable loss. Her poem Argument, while not following the same format of a sestina, describes a feeling of sadness along the same lines in that it is expressing a situation of permanent separation. In her first stanza, she writes:

    Days that cannot bring you near
    or will not,
    Distance trying to appear
    something more obstinate,
    argue argue argue with me
    endlessly
    neither proving you less wanted nor less dear.

I feel that the seeming lack of rhythm presented between lines slows down the pace, giving the poem a tone of quiet introspection upon the speaker's relation with this other mystery person, driven away inevitably by Distance and Days, symbols that are expanded upon in the later stanzas of the poem. I find this poem significant because it describes a realistic (and in some ways absurd) ending to a relationship that is riddled with feelings of regret.

Things Never Change

Everyone says that music today is terrible, or at least the music on the radio is. When you look at the contents of that music you see the same themes of love and sex over and over and over again. Looking at many of the poems we have read so far in this poetry packet I see the same themes pop up all over the place. Shakespeare's sonnet's praise the beauty of the unnamed subject while John Donne and Andrew Marvell write about very frustrated men. Albeit the poems are a little more eloquent, but it seems to me that writing poetry about love, whether just praising someone's beauty and your unending affection for them or, crudely put, just saying how much you want to get in their pants, is a timeless affair.

In Class Poetry Analysis

In class on Friday, we analyzed a poem in groups.  Instead of explicating the poem, we just analyzed it and focused more on how the rhetorical strategies affect the theme of the poem.  I don't really fancy poetry, but the poem we analyzed really hit me.  I forgot what the poem is called, but it was about a man looking back at his childhood and realizing how much his dad conveyed his love for him through subtle and out of the ordinary ways.  The speaker talked about how his dad would always put himself through hard labor to provide for him and his family.  The speaker is just now, years later, starting to realize that all of the small things his dad did for him, that he took for granted, were actually ways for the dad to express his love.  It made me think about my dad and about all of the little things that he does for me that I just take for granted.  This poem gave me a great understanding of the importance of appreciating others and what they do for you.

A Funny Sonnet With Deep Meaning

Sonnet - Billy Collins

All we need is fourteen lines, well, thirteen now,
and after this one just a dozen
to launch a little ship on love's storm-tossed seas,
then only ten more left like rows of beans.
How easily it goes unless you get Elizabethan
and insist the iambic bongos must be played
and rhymes positioned at the ends of lines,
one for every station of the cross.
But hang on here wile we make the turn
into the final six where all will be resolved,
where longing and heartache will find an end,
where Laura will tell Petrarch to put down his pen,
take off those crazy medieval tights,
blow out the lights, and come at last to bed.

I thought this sonnet about sonnets by Billie Collins was very intriguing because while it veered away from the traditional style of sonnet writing, it still managed to adhere to some of the basic guidelines of the sonnet.  Even though there is no rhyme scheme, the poem is 14 lines which is the right length for a sonnet.  I also liked the original style of this one because all the love and emotional poetry annoys me after a while.  In the 9th line when Collins says, "But hang on here while we make the turn", it is a metaphor for the turn that is made in sonnets (the change between the quartets).  Collins also uses an allusion to Laura and Petrarch.  Petrarch was a famous sonnet writer, and Laura was the woman that he adressed all of his sonnets to.  I just found it really interesting that even a poem like this, that seems so nonchalant and different, uses rhetorical strategies in its own unique way.  I really like this sonnet because of how different it is.

Song

Song

By Edgar Allen Poe

I saw thee on thy l bridal day

When a burning blush came o'er thee

Though happiness around thee lay,

The world all love before thee

And in thine eye a kindling light

(Whatever it might be)

Was all on Earth my aching sight

Of Loveliness could see.

That blush, perhaps, was maiden shame

As such it well may pass

Though its glow hath raised a fiercer flame

In the breast of him, alas!

Who saw thee on that bridal day

When that deep blush would come o'er thee

Though happiness around thee lay

The world all love before thee.

I am not the biggest fan of poetry because I have a difficult time analyzing it. I do enjoy Edgar Allen Poe short stories, so I thought his poetry may be an interesting place to start. I got from this poem that the man who saw the bride on her wedding day was either a past lover or someone who the bride had feelings for even though she was marrying someone else. Weddings are supposed to be happy occasions, but for the speaker it was almost bitter. "Though happiness around thee lay...The world of love before thee" meaning that she is surrounded by happiness, but love has been standing right in front of her all this time. It is a sad poem, and the tale of a love that is being ended by this wedding.

You suck. Haha... oooh, you know I love you.

Oh, what a breath of fresh air this sonnet is. You know what one of my biggest pet peeves is? Often in movies and novels, the main characters talk of nothing but their love of one another. I often shout at the screen, "BUT WHY DO YOU LOVE EACH OTHER? HUH?" It's very unrealistic.

A couple should be best friends. And you know what? Best friends make fun of each other, because they know that they love each other. Though at first glance this poem seems rude and maybe even cruel, I think it is the most loving of all.

I imagine this couple sitting on the couch in pajamas, they've muted the TV during commercials, and the guy is reciting this poem to the girl while she throws popcorn at him and hits him with a pillow.

William Shakespeare's Sonnet 130

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks; 
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Something More

I thought that Sonnet 138, by William Shakespeare was something a little more genuine than some of the more generic and boring sonnets we had read so far.  In this sonnet, Shakespeare delved more deeply into the intricacies of a relationship and love.  Instead of languishing over some poor girl's physical appearance for a full fourteen lines, Shakespeare opted to laud the powers which bring a man and woman closer together.  I think the best example of this is in the line "O! love's best habit is in seeming trust,"  It's a powerful line which seems to illustrate the whole meaning of the poem which is that what true love really offers is an undying trust between two individuals.  I think one of the most important things to take away from Sonnet 138 is the idea that our relationships with others can actually make us stronger people and more confident because the people we love won't hold our faults against us.  As Shakespeare said "Therefore I lie with her, and she with me, And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be."  Even though we may know that someone may be lying or exaggerating when they congratulate us, it is our trust in them that they aren't trying to hurt us which truly brings out the love in a relationship.

A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING.  by John Donne   AS virtuous men pass mildly away,       And whisper to their souls to go,   Whilst some of their sad friends do say,      "Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."                      So let us melt, and make no noise,                                       5      No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;  'Twere profanation of our joys       To tell the laity our love.  Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ;      Men reckon what it did, and meant ;                              10  But trepidation of the spheres,       Though greater far, is innocent.  Dull sublunary lovers' love       —Whose soul is sense—cannot admit   Of absence, 'cause it doth remove                                     15      The thing which elemented it.  But we by a love so much refined,      That ourselves know not what it is,   Inter-assurèd of the mind,       Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.                           20 Our two souls therefore, which are one,       Though I must go, endure not yet   A breach, but an expansion,       Like gold to aery thinness beat.  If they be two, they are two so                                          25      As stiff twin compasses are two ;   Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show       To move, but doth, if th' other do.  And though it in the centre sit,       Yet, when the other far doth roam,                                30  It leans, and hearkens after it,       And grows erect, as that comes home.  Such wilt thou be to me, who must,      Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;  Thy firmness makes my circle just,                                    35      And makes me end where I begun.       I really like this poem, and I think it says a lot about John Donne's feelings about true love.  In this poem he seems to be saying that if you are truly in love, then spending time apart is really not a big deal because two people that are in love are like two bodies with one soul and no matter how far apart they are for how long, they will always be a part of each other.   He uses the image of a compass.  Even though the two parts of the compass are movable and may be pulled apart, they remain joined together.   With lesser loves, it is not like this.  When they are separated physically they become desparate and make a big show of their grief because they are really separated their souls are not joined and their love does not transcend their physical closeness.

Sonnet 138 by William Shakespeare

Sonnet 138, by William Shakespeare is a very peculiar poem in a sense that the speaker is very tricky with the reasons of love.  The speaker first admits to his lover that is lying to her, and then he shows how she is lying to him, and initially this situations seems like anything but love.  However this lover knows and understands this and believes that the love can surpass the simple dilemma of their falsehoods.  Ironically, the fact that he does not point out her lies shows their trust.  Shakespeare states that "love's best habit is trust". Yet how can a couple love with lying involved?  I think that the speaker is trying to show the audience that love is more than trumping each other with inconvenient truths but more focused on what their love implies.  Shakespeare has previously stated in one of his sonnets that love is not perfect (sonnet 116), and with that being said "no man has ever loved".  So with that being said, I believe that with this sonnet, Shakespeare is attempting to further elaborate on his understanding of love.

The Design of Life & Death

The poem, ‘Design’ by Robert Frost reminds me of Shel Silverstein. No, he doesn’t remind me of him because that’s one of the few poets I love, but he reminds me of him because of his way of description. For some reason, reading the first few lines of his poem ‘I found a dimpled spider, fat and white, on a white heal-all, holding up a moth…’, it seemed somewhat humorous. His tone throughout the poem doesn’t seem to be sad or calm, but understanding, and observative. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a white spider, so that kinda puts a different lense on the common image/situation I associate with an insect and his prey. Soon after mentioning this spider, he talks about the ‘assorted characters of death and blight’, basically saying that this little scene of nature combines the two different, yet very similar forces—life & death, and darkness & light. When Frost describes the melody of these things ‘like the ingredients of a witches’ broth’, I feel like he’s saying that all these things go so well together, though death may seem rather dreary, these forces go hand and hand. By finishing the first stanza with the line ‘a snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth, and dead wings carried like a paper kite’, this, once again, is another way Frost makes the scene of death seem rather graceful. Though there’s a line between life and death, the line is very thin. The two are going to combine, the two are going to mix, and though it may seem one way, it’s nessecary that we open our eyes and except the true beauty of nature’s process. The title ‘Design’, which the poet seems to explain at the end of the second stanza, seems to really embody the poem. The spider might be killing the moth, but that’s what the moth was designed for, a bundled-up demise, slow, and white in the web. The spider is death, and we are the moth, so often limited by restrictions—the spider’s web. As humans, were designed to live and designed to die, no questions should be asked.

The Death of Marilyn Monroe

The ambulance men touched her cold

body, lifted it, heavy as iron,

onto the stretcher, tried to close the

mouth, closed the eyes, tied the

arms to the sides, moved it caught

strand of hair, as if it mattered,

saw the shape of her breasts, flattened by

gravity, under the sheet,

carried her, as if it were she,

down the steps

 

These men were never the same. They went out

afterwards, as they always did,

for a drink or two, but they could not meet

each other's eyes.

 

                        Their lives took

a turn--one had nightmares, strange

pains, impotence, depression. One did not

like his work,his wife looked

different, his kids. Even death

seemed different to him--a place where she

would be waiting,

 

and one found himself standing at tnight

in the doorway to a room of sleep, listening to a

woman breathering, just an ordinary

woman

breathing.

 

Reading poetry often makes me question my ability to be a good reader. It's hard for me to dig past what is presented at face value in a poem. And when I eventually do analyze the poem, I question the legitimacy of my analysis and general anger and sadness ensues. With this poem, "The Death of Marilyn Monroe," it is quite easy to take this poem at face value because it lacks the element of confusion that, for example, Shakespeare's sonnets (or Spenser's, Sydney's or Petrach's) have.

Initially, this poem is about the men who tended to Marilyn Monroe's body when she died. It follows their reactions and how they dealt with (or didn't deal with) the passing of such a prominent figure in society. But, in the poem, the name Marilyn Monroe is never mentioned. If someone read the poem without knowing the title, they would have no idea that this poem was about the death of Monroe. There is only one slight allusion to the nature of the woman in the last line "just an ordinary woman breathing." This line makes the assumption that Monroe was extraordinary, but then again I only see the line that way because I know the title of the poem. So if there was no title to this poem, it would simply be about men who are dealing with the death of a woman.

Ultimately, I think that is what this poem is about--the reality of death. How death can change someone. How dealing with death and loss, and being in close proximity to death can change a person's outlook on life. The only line that doesn't fit my hypothesis is the last, the one that I've already mentioned. "...just an ordinary woman breathing." But perhaps this man is listening to the woman breathing to hear her breath, to hear her living when he had to struggle with death.

My Very Own Villanelle

I'm not sure if we were supposed to blog our own poetry, but I'm going to do it anyway. Mr. H assigned us to write our own poem, but I found it very difficult to stop at one stanza. So here it is. If you have any suggestions, please let me know. Anyway, the villanelle is titled "Shadow Songs."

 

Your shadow sings of sorrow of the Passed,

we watch—waiting for your pain to expire,

Fire flickers, your shadow does not last.

 

Elders whisper while your words—Breath—fall fast

struggling to keep—Breath—as you desire

Your shadow sings of sorrow of the Passed.

 

Between tales of torment, your sobs are vast

like false gossip of a teenage liar

Fire flickers, your shadow does not last.

 

--Breath—Breath—Are you okay?—Breath—you are asked

You are fine, but as you start to perspire

Your shadow sings of sorrow of the Passed.

 

We know your powerful pain will be cast

Away—singing with another choir

Fire flickers, your shadow does not last.

 

Now calm, you thump gently against the brass

thinking the beat will erase the prior.

Your shadow sings of sorrow of the Passed,

Fire flickers, your shadow does not last.  

 

A Love Based On Lies

Please direct your attention to page 34 of the packet where William Shakespeare's Sonnet 138 can be found:

 

When my love swears that she is made of truth

I do believe her, though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutor'd youth,

Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.

Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,

Although she knows my days are past the best,

Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:

On both sides thus is simple truth supprest.

But wherefore says she not she is unjust?

And wherefore say not I that I am old?

O! love's best habit is in seeming trust,

And age in love loves not to have years told:

Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,

And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.

 

At first, the speaker seems a little bit disappointed that his lover lies to him. She must think he is ignorant. He decides that she thinks he is young and naive, although they both know deep down that he's an old man. In this way, both people are lying. In fact, they seem to be lying to themselves as well as the other person. And the speaker comes to terms with this at the end of the poem. Their lying becomes a kind of bond between them.

This poem shocked me. Isn't Shakespeare the guy who always writes about how love is honest and perfect and pure? Isn't his job to make everyone else feel pathetic? I mean the kind of love in Romeo and Juliet is the kind of love that half of the world doesn't believe in and the other half never finds. I am surprised to find that he thinks lying to the one you love can be permissible.

On the other hand, is this really lying? Both people know what's going on. And are some lies worse than others? It seems like these guys both really know each other. It's not like the lies are a barrier to their relationship -- in fact, they bring the two closer together.

Ashbery's Anxiety

The Problem of Anxiety

by John Ashbery

 

Fifty years have passed

 since I started living in those dark towns

 I was telling you about.

Well, not much has changed. I still can't figure out

how to get from the post office to the swings in the park.

Apple trees blossom in the cold, not from conviction,

and my hair is the color of dandelion fuzz.

 

Suppose this poem were about you--would you

put in the things I've carefully left out:

descriptions of pain, and sex, and how shiftily

people behave toward each other? Naw, that's

all in some book it seems. For you

I've saved the descriptions of finger sandwiches,

and the glass eye that stares at me in amazement

from the bronze mantel, and will never be appeased.

 

This poem fascinates me. The speaker seems to be a man who sounds lost. He writes this poem to someone who he calls "you". The poem almost sounds as though it were written as a letter. The first stanza talks about a few things. The phrase, "those dark towns", confused me a bit, but it seems as though the speaker of the poem feels lost in society. He lives in dark towns, and he can't find his way from one place to another in town. The only thing that has changed for the speaker since he last wrote to this particular audience is the color of his hair. 

The second stanza interests me most. The author writes, " Would you put in the things I've carefully left out: descriptions of pain, and sex, and how shiftily people behave toward each other?" Then he says, "Naw, that's all in some book it seems." I thought that this could be a dig at stereotypical poetry. Ashbery left out pain and love because someone already wrote about it. Instead, he writes what he thinks is important: "finger sandwiches" and a "glass eye". I don't understand why he chooses these two topics to write about. The glass eye could represent the audience, the "you" in the poem, because the glass eye "will never be appeased". I'm not sure. 

I found this poem confusing, yet deeply interesting. The title of the poem itself does not seem to mesh with the poem at first glance. After reading the poem a few times, I've come to understand it better, but I still feel like I've only scratched the surface. 

 

 

The Modern Age

The Modern Age by The Strokes is one of my all time favorite songs and the lyrics have always intrigued me, so when Mr. Heidkamp told us we could blog a song I immediately thought of it. Here are the lyrics:

Up on a hill is where we begin
This little story a long time ago
Stop to pretend, stop pretending
It seems this game is simply never-ending
Oh, in the sun, sun having fun
It's in my blood
I just can't help it
Don't want you here right now
Let me go, oh, let me g-g-g-g-g-g-go

(Chorus)
Leavin' just in time
Stay there for a while
Rolling in the ocean
Trying to catch her eye
Work hard and say it's easy
Do it just to please me
Tomorrow will be different
So I'll pretend I'm leaving

Our fears are different here
We train in A-V-A
I wish you hadn't stayed
My vision's clearer now, but I'm unafraid
Flying overseas, no time to feel the breeze
I took too many varieties
Oh, in the sun, sun having fun
It's in my blood
I just can't help it
Don't want you here right now
Let me go
Darling let me g-g-g-g-g-g-go

(Chorus)

I think that these lyrics could be interpreted dozens and dozens of different ways, but the way I see it is that the speaker is trying to project himself one way (Stop to pretend, stop pretending. This game is simply never-ending) and portray himself as something he's not in each of the verses. He seems like he's trying to act confident and aloof, rejecting other people and claiming that they just want to have "fun in the sun."

However, in the chorus, the speaker/singer makes his act clear. He talks about  pretending and working hard and saying it's easy, like he's putting on a show for whoever he claims to "not want you here right now."  The singer even admits he wants to catch some girl's eye, showing that he's not as independent and confident as he tried to come off as in the verses.  I think that the aside from the lyrics, the rest of the song supports this interpretation. During the verses, the song sticks to an upbeat, confident and steady tune, showing the confidence and arrogance of the singer behind his false identity. But during the chorus the song turns into a slower, more melancholy tune that I think highlights the singers true insecurities and apprehension.

My Grandmother's Bed

I thought that the poem My Grandmother's Bed by Edward Hirsch from our poetry packets was a really simple, sweet poem. It's about a grandchild and their experience spending the night at their grandmother's house and watching her unfold her bed out of the wall. I chose to write about this poem because I thought it was so interesting that no where in the poem does it  say or elude to anything about the speaker's age, but to the reader it is obvious that the speaker is a young child.

Children always seem to find amazement in things that adults tend to find mundane and not particularly exciting, like pulling a bed out of the wall. In the poem, the speaker is mesmerized by the bed, saying, "I was ecstatic to be sleeping on wheels!"  I think most adults would dread sleeping on what is probably an uncomfortable pull-out cot, but to a child, it is the most exciting thing in the world! I love how Hirsch is able to use this short line to highlight not only the identity of the speaker, but also bring us into the speaker's mind and mentality with such ease.

The author brings us further into the mind of the child narrator when he goes on to describe what the speaker is feeling when he/she is trying to fall asleep next to their grandmother on the cot. The sound of the speaker's grandmother and background noises like traffic and the radiator lull the narrator off to sleep. Hirsch even compares the noises to an ocean, sweeping the speaker into sleep.  The new and different surroundings are compared to unfamiliar waves.  I think this perfectly describes the mentality of a child; safe and comfortable with their grandmother, yet a little uncomfortable with the new environment. Overall, I thought the poem did a wonderful job of making it easier for the reader to understand the feelings of what it's like ot be a little kid subtly without ever having to explicitly state anything and ruin the poem.

To Her Young Pursuer

This is a poem I wrote for the response to "To His Coy Mistress" by Marvell. The format is similar to a Shakespearean sonnet but without iambic pentameter and less romantic.

If time were to go on forever thus,

for day and night my body you do lust.

Thine eyes, thy forehead, each breast you do woe,

this only shows how much you need to grow.

You form your words like statues, all with gilt.

But only lust like vegetables do wilt.

Like the empires forgotten in dust,

you threat to discard my body when rust.

The worms to take away my maidenhood.

Using words like power as if you should.

You call our lust the same as birds of prey,

to think this you must never have seen day.

Correct that we cannot escape the sun,

but rather than screw you I'd eat a gun.

(\__/)
( ^.^)
(") (") <== bunny bunny bunny

The Girl with the Golden Hair

Philip Sidney's Astrophil and Stella: Sonnet 9 is an extended metaphor for the love a man has for an angel-like woman . Sidney compares the woman's body to the wonders of nature as well as uses a form of personification to represent each of her features. While the break-down of each feature may come across and rude and intruding for the woman, I find this sonnet rather complimentary. The man who is addressing the woman simply longs for her love but realized that she will never notice him. To him, the woman (Stella)  is his entire life and to Stella, the man is a spec of dust. Will they ever find love? 

Age is Just a Number Baby

Shakespeare
Sonnet 138

When my love swears that she is made of truth

I do believe her, though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutor'd youth,

Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.

Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,

Although she knows my days are past the best,

Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:

On both sides thus is simple truth supprest.

But wherefore says she not she is unjust?

And wherefore say not I that I am old?

O! love's best habit is in seeming trust,

And age in love loves not to have years told:

Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,

And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.

I love this poem. I feel like shakespear has such a way of expressing very complexed thoughts (mainly about love) that makes it so clear. In this poem, I love that the speaker, whomever he may be, at first tries to convince his audience, which is most likely just a friend of his, that he his offended by the idea that he is too young for his love, and that to think that he isn't old enough is folly. Then at the end, the speaker says something along the lines of "What does it matter if I'm not old? Love transcends age." I could easily see this speaker getting more and more frustrated as he explains his perdicament to his buddy at some pub.

A poet will keep you young

This poem strikes me as sincerely, not exagerattedly romantic.

Shakespear's Sonnet 15

When I consider every thing that grows

Holds in perfection but a little moment;

That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows

Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;

When I perceive that men as plants increase,

Cheered and cheque'd even by the self-same sky,

Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,

And wear their brave state out of memory;

Then the conceit of this inconstant stay

Sets you, most rich in youth, before my sight,

Where wasteful time debateth with decay,

To change your day of youth to sullied night;

And all in war with time for love of you,

As he takes from you, I engraft you new.

I think the speaker is saying here that even though perfection only lasts for so long and the stars will push humans down as soon as they reach their climax, he will fight against the time. Each time Time takes youth away from his lover, he will "engraft" or recreate her new in these poems. As you may be able to tell I love the last sentence of this poem. The sincererity comes from the fact that this poem does not worship woman as much as other shakespear sonnets do and also from the fact that the first half of the poem talks about human condition in general and only does the speaker mention his lover on tenth line. But the last five line still shows the profound love the speaket has toward his lover. The last line, "as he takes from you, I engraft you new" leaves the reader with a sad, but heartful aftertaste.

you're perfect just the way you are.

I picked Shakespear's Sonnet 130, because I think it's one of the cutest sonnets ever.

The sonnet is:

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

He is saying how nothing is perfect in the world and that his mistress's lips may not be red, and how she might not smell like roses, but he loves her through her imperfections. He tells us that just because she's not perfect doesn't make their love any less real. This poem really got to me and it's one of my favorites.

My Son The Man by Sharon Olds

Suddenly his shoulders get a lot wider,

the way Houdini would expand his body

while people were putting him in chains. It seems

no time since I would help him to put on his sleeper,

guide his calves into the gold interior,

zip him up and toss him up and

catch his weight. I cannot imagine him

no longer a child, and I know I must get ready,

get over my fear of men now my son

is going to be one. This was not

what I had in mind when he pressed up through me like a

sealed trunk through the ice of the Hudson,

snapped the padlock, unsnaked the chains,

and appeared in my arms. Now he looks at me

the way Houdini studied a box

to learn the way out, then smiled and let himself be manacled.

Sharon Olds blew me away with Rite of Passage, and this poem has hit me in the same way that it did. The tone of the confused mother is something I can relate to, being that my mom never understood why or how I was growing up. The coping that Sharon Olds illustrates really hits me in a profound way, with how she uses Houdini as an example for how crazily quick (in her mind) her son is changing into a whole 'nother being almost. How she paints the metaphor of childbirth is awesome too, with her 'snapped the padlock, unsnaked the chains, and appeared in my arms'. Just how he came into her world, he's leaving it too. I love this poem in every sense of the word.

America

In the poem America by Claude McKay the speaker, a man of American background describes his feelings about the country.  In the beginning of the poem it seems very clear that he is against America but then in the fourth line he says contrary to all the things that he has against it he still loves his country.  He describes that in America the vigor and strength the country provides him allows him to vie against the hate that is found within the country.  He sees the country as a way to fight against itself.  From the vigor and strength that he gets from America he has no fear against the "bigness" of the country.  Towards the end of the poem though he seems to shift what he is talking about by saying generally that he looks to the future and sees the greatness of America "sinking in the sand."  Overall the point that McKay and the speaker in the poem try to make is very mixed about America.  There is a certain appreciation for the country and the "vigor" it provides but at the same time there is a dislike for the country.  He seems to be saying that even with all the greatness and the problems too, he sees it all falling away into the sand far off into the future.  

The way that he accomplishes this is through imagery that gives you a very specific image of the point he is trying to get across.  In the middle part of the poem he gives the image of himself standing against the tide of the forces of the country pushing on him, while at the same time giving him the power stand against America and the forces it has against him.  Also in the final three lines using the description of the "granite wonders" as America sinking into the sand he doesn't go out and say that America will fall away one day but through his description you are able to figure it out.  Through these differing descriptions of America McKay is able to reenforce his main idea about the contradictory feelings he has for the country.  

Footsteps of Angels

When the hours of Day are numbered,
And the voices of the Night
Wake the better soul, that slumbered,
To a holy, calm delight;

Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
And, like phantoms grim and tall,
Shadows from the fitful firelight
Dance upon the parlor wall;

Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door;
The beloved, the true-hearted,
Come to visit me once more;

He, the young and strong, who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,
By the roadside fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life!

They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth no more!

And with them the Being Beauteous,
Who unto my youth was given,
More than all things else to love me,
And is now a saint in heaven.

With a slow and noiseless footstep
Comes that messenger divine,
Takes the vacant chair beside me,
Lays her gentle hand in mine.

And she sits and gazes at me
With those deep and tender eyes,
Like the stars, so still and saint-like,
Looking downward from the skies.

Uttered not, yet comprehended,
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer,
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,
Breathing from her lips of air.

Oh, though oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside,
If I but remember only
Such as these have lived and died!

This poem, "Footsteps of Angels" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is one of the most memorable poems I have read. After reading this poem, I learned to truly appreciate a poem based mainly on its unique language, diction, and syntax. The speaker embodies a somber tone, as the message is one of loss and sadness. The first two stanzas establish the setting of "calm delight," "shadow," and "grim" that come with the "hours of the night." In the third stanza, a "beloved," "departed" individual comes back to visit, which hints that the occassion may be following the passing of someone close to the speaker. The next stanzas express that various characters visit with the speakers beloved. One is a man who "cherished noble longings for the strife," others are holy persons who bore the "cross of suffering," and finally the individual who passed away, "Being Beauteous," who was given "more than all things to love [the speaker]." The loved one of the speaker accompanies these various characters, who no longer are a part of this earth, and she connects the speaker once more. The speaker "comprehends" her blessings and prayers, conveyed through "lips of air", and her saint-like eyes "looking downward from the skies." Although the speaker feels depressed and lonely afterwards, his "fears are laid aside."

Essentially, this poem relates the sadness of the speaker after the death of his loved one. Most notably though, Longfellow utilizes an amazing structure to express his thoughts in this poem. The speaker effectively depicts the image of these saints entering the door, alongside his "beloved." Her abstract, yet understood presence empowers the speaker to some extent, but they all must leave once again, since they are no longer a part of this earth. These personas may be some embodiment of the speaker, such as elements of the speaker that depart along with his beloved. Ultimately, the speaker realizes that if he keeps his beloved in his heart, then his "fears," and overall troubles for that matter, will no longer haunt him. I feel that this poem testifies to Longfellow's abilities to relate such a somber encounter so vividly.  

The End of Spring

The Oven Bird

There is a singer everyone has heard,

Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird

Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.

He says that leaves are old and that for flowers,

Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.

He says the early petal-fall is past

When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers

On sunny days a moment overcast;

And comes that other fall we name the fall.

He says the highway dust is over all.

The bird would cease and be as other birds

But that he knows in singing not to sing.

The question that he frames in all but words

Is what to make of a diminished thing.

                         Robert Frost

Unlike the speaker of this poem, when I think of summer I think of long afternoons and cold glasses of lemonade. In my world, summer is a thing to celebrate. If I were familiar with the song of the oven bird I would probably be glad to hear it, but that’s probably because I see summer as a beginning. The speaker of this poem, on the other hand, sees summer as the moments after a good thing and before decline. The song of the oven bird signals the time when “early petal-fall is past.” He or she argues that summer is one tenth as good as the spring.

I see the song of the oven bird and the passing of the seasons as an extended metaphor about aging. It seems the speaker is disillusioned about losing his youth; he cannot find happiness in being middle aged.The speaker says “the highway dust is over all.”

The end of spring, or youth, marks the beginning of aging. The oven bird “knows in singing not to sing,” because after losing his youth he is closer to death.

Gefunden

Gefunden	Found
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe	Translation: Hyde Flippo
Ich ging im Walde	I was walking in the woods
So für mich hin,	Just on a whim of mine,
Und nichts zu suchen,	And seeking nothing,
Das war mein Sinn.	That was my intention.
Im Schatten sah ich	In the shade I saw
Ein Blümchen stehn,	A little flower standing
Wie Sterne leuchtend	Like stars glittering
Wie Äuglein schön.	Like beautiful little eyes.
Ich wollt es brechen,	I wanted to pick it
Da sagt' es fein:	When it said delicately:
Soll ich zum Welken,	Should I just to wilt
Gebrochen sein?	Be picked?
Ich grubs mit allen	I dug it out with all
Den Würzeln aus,	Its little roots.
Zum Garten trug ichs	To the garden I carried it
Am hübschen Haus.	By the lovely house.
Und pflanzt es wieder	And replanted it
Am stillen Ort;	In this quiet spot;
Nun zweigt es immer	Now it keeps branching out
Und blüht so fort.

Gefunden, by Johann Wolfgang von Geothe is a classic German poem and is quite famous. This is one of my favorite poems because it is so positive and heart-warming. It teaches the lesson to preserve beauty and admire it. The imagery Goethe uses to describe the flower makes such an insignificant plant and turns it into a thing of extreme beauty. When Goethe maked the flower speak I was a little taken aback, but it is important because it warns the man of what he is about to do, pick a flower that will die soon. He then decides to bring the entire plant into the sun and replant it so he can share its beauty and have it blossom into a wonderous thing.