Passion Poem

Excuse me,
I don't mean to be rude,
but could you tilt you head back to the right?

The deep planes around your eyes
the point of your nose
the way you carry your body
I want to capture it all

you don't know I'm here or really there
but somewhere in the back of your mind
you have a looming feeling

I look up, I look down, then back up again
you look up, I look down

I want it all
record every living and non living thing
and convey it for the world to see

Somewhere Else

Heavy feet rushing through the thick of dark
tumbling upon up lifted tree roots
the revolver gripped in hand catches light
blood forces its way through veins

flickering lights and zapping bugs
safe refugee camp poses as a threat in disguise
a chance to recover what is lost
green flash of light

dragged by the ankles from the grungy bed
slammed against hard concrete
instincts ceases hesitation
burst of warm liquid sprays

the rising sun startles me
I'm late for class

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

First time hearing “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” in class was a bit much to take in. Even now rereading it, it takes awhile to decipher it, but I do believe the poem is worth dissecting. The poem reflects its respective art movement, futurism, emphasize on natural and manmade forms. Half of the stanzas observe a black bird literal; others are more indirect, like “the shadow of his equipage” (Probably my favorite section). The poem is presented in a cycle; beginning with the blackbird in nature then mingles with human interaction in Connecticut then back to the blackbird in the wilderness. The word play of the poem allows the mind to wander and fill in the gap. The interactive media of the poem is a nifty concept, some of the imagery was far from what I envisioned. 

American Gothic

American Gothic by John Stone developed a quirky yet realistic narrative for Grant Wood’s painting. There is much more going on outside the painting that the two figures portrayed are thinking about. I love the section about the two “ought to be in mortal time about their businesses.” The last part, “whether she remembered to turn off the stove,” made me chuckle. The painting and the poem relate nicely together and makes the experience so much more. Compared to the previously analyzed poem, The Hunter in the Snow by William Carlos Williams, both poets describe their respective paintings literally, but John Stone takes creative liberties and takes it to the next step. I really do enjoy the alternative life injected into this painting by John Stone.

The Hunter in the Snow

I did not like this poem one bit. It was straightforward and not much to it. Its as if someone approached the painting and comments “oh look there are hunters and ice skaters on the hill.  Brueghel did a lovely job framing the winter scene with a bush.” Williams’ style in this poem is very minimalistic. I understand he is trying to be fresh and imagistic, but it ends up coming off as too cut and dry for me. One verse that does grab my attention was “their pack the inn-sign hanging from a broken hinge is a stag a crucifix.” After reading this poem, I appreciate John Berryman’s Winter Landscape much more. The Hunter in the Snow, the poem, didn’t come alive like Winter Landscape did.

Winter Landscape

Winter Landscape by John Berryman isn’t my favorite poem I’ve read so far this semester, none of the less its still peculiarly interesting. The breaks in the poem leave me feeling unbalanced. There is an unusual feeling of eeriness in the poem. I do enjoy how the poet begins with the three men and ends with them. The painting by Pieter Brueghel, Hunters in the Snow, is more appealing to me than the poem. The distance between the birds witnessing the three hunters and the hunters between the towns’ people below them creates a nice depth. The tone of the poem is solemn and bleak by having the three men “returning cold and silent to their town,” but John Berryman includes a contrast with the line, “lively with children.” This action heights the feel of cold tone.

The Waiting Room to Heaven

Where old people from all over the world come to be,
smooth wide roads are lined with exquisite palm trees.
There is no crime, no hobos, no prostitutes;
the streets are always swept clean.

In between the lavish landscape are hidden gems;
extraordinary food, high end shopping and boutiques.
But beyond these establishments is something much more.
Something real unlike the plastic beauty all around.

Going through the mini boardwalk, the sea mist greets me.
Here I run in the sand without care and take it all in.
Its been to long since I've been here last.
The beach bunny inside is fading.

Where time stands still with its glittering citrines,
men and women live like kings and queens.
I yearn to dine with fancy wine and cheese.
Until then, I shall trudge through this murky sea.

A Hand

A Hand by Jane Hirshfield is a fun imaginative poem. I love how the poet describes what the hand is not in a pleasing rhythm. The poem presents an open question and leaves without an answer. The answer is resting in our palms and is within arms reach, but it flutters away from our fingertips. The question is greater than us, more than just simple physical attributes. With hands as the subject, the possibilities are endless. Hands hold so much expression, personality, and power. The excerpt of the Creation of Man serves as a great metaphor for this poem; the hands are part of something bigger. The short poem evokes endless thoughts, what hands mean symbolically, does the question go beyond the hands into the ultimate reasoning and purpose of creation.

Naked Girl and Mirror

Judith Wright poem Naked Girl and Mirror is about a girl coming of age and the eternal and physical conflict. The girl rejects her changes entirely in the beginning. She wants to cling on to what makes her young and free. I love the delightful word choice in the first stanza; stars, laugh, run etc. The young girl is scared of these changes. There is a tug of war between the young girl and the mature women throughout the poem. The girl wants to stay in her genderless body, to hold onto what makes her unique without the pressure of gender role. She knows the changes her body goes through will attract lovers. She fears these changes will take away her ownership of her individuality transferring to societal functions of family and childbearing. The mirror is a nice prop in the poem, distinguishing the transformation. She later comes to term with her developments, but claims she will always be free as she once used to be. It’s a beautiful poem; the first run through I was confused about the speaker, whether it was the child, the woman, or the mirror. The complimenting art is fitting for this poem.