"After Tonight"
This poem consists of four stanzas of varying lengths. There is no rhyme scheme. The poem is instructive and reminds the audience that nothing is certain. Just because your days have gone by relatively unchanged does not mean that tomorrow holds the same. The poem instructs readers not to take anything for granted. Soto criticizes the addressee with
And you do not think of the hills
And of the splintered wrists it takes
To give you
The heat rising toward the ceiling (lines 15-18).
We often forget from whence we derive our comforts and our security. We see horrible things happening to people and think "them, but never me." Soto's message is important. It seems to be a common feature of human nature that we take our security and comfort for granted when we are not forced to actively protect and defend it. Soto's use of language is such that it warns us quietly and sternly. Without explicitly telling the addressee that she ought to be aware of and acknowledge every possibility, Soto creeps into our thoughts and we feel insecure. The greater message is not one of fear but of realism. No one is immune to mishap or disaster.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Gwendolyn Brooks
"The Boy Died in My Alley"
This poem consists of eight stanzas of varying lengths. The poet describes how she was visited and interrogated by police after a boy was found dead in her alley. The policeman asks the speaker, "'You heard a shot?'" and she replies "Shots I hear and Shots I hear. / I never see the dead (lines4-6). The speaker has become accustomed to the sound of gunshots at night. When asked is she knew the boy, the speaker replies that "I have known this Boy before, who / ornaments my alley" (lines 18-19). She explains that she "always heard him deal with death" (line 22) but the speaker has "closed my heart-ears late and early. / And I have killed him ever" (lines 24 - 25). At this point, the reader realizes that the speaker may not have known the dead boy personally but that the boy has become a casualty in a place where men are often killed in the streets. The speaker feels personally responsible for the death because she has done nothing to stop it and has turned a blind eye or "closed my heart-ears" in deliberate ignorance of the atrocities of the streets. I once read this poem in a UIL poetry reading competition about 11 years ago! I was 16! I think I would be able to present a more convincing reading of this poem now that I have gained some maturity. While the themes addressed by this poem invoked sympathy in me and inspired me, the judges weren't convinced that a 16 year-old white boy from Levelland, Texas really understood the suffering of people who witness violent crime in the ghetto every week or every day of their lives.
This poem consists of eight stanzas of varying lengths. The poet describes how she was visited and interrogated by police after a boy was found dead in her alley. The policeman asks the speaker, "'You heard a shot?'" and she replies "Shots I hear and Shots I hear. / I never see the dead (lines4-6). The speaker has become accustomed to the sound of gunshots at night. When asked is she knew the boy, the speaker replies that "I have known this Boy before, who / ornaments my alley" (lines 18-19). She explains that she "always heard him deal with death" (line 22) but the speaker has "closed my heart-ears late and early. / And I have killed him ever" (lines 24 - 25). At this point, the reader realizes that the speaker may not have known the dead boy personally but that the boy has become a casualty in a place where men are often killed in the streets. The speaker feels personally responsible for the death because she has done nothing to stop it and has turned a blind eye or "closed my heart-ears" in deliberate ignorance of the atrocities of the streets. I once read this poem in a UIL poetry reading competition about 11 years ago! I was 16! I think I would be able to present a more convincing reading of this poem now that I have gained some maturity. While the themes addressed by this poem invoked sympathy in me and inspired me, the judges weren't convinced that a 16 year-old white boy from Levelland, Texas really understood the suffering of people who witness violent crime in the ghetto every week or every day of their lives.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Sylvia Plath
"Fever 103˚"
It seems that very few people have the self-confrontational honesty and insight demonstrated by confessional writers like Plath. Plath's poetry is truly "confessional" and has a particular vibe which is reflective of the modern American middle class at its darkest. It reads like disturbing diary entries and relates the personal psychology of a woman living in personal torment in a pristine and modern suburban setting. "Fever 103˚" consists of eighteen stanzas of three lines each. There is no rhyme scheme. What limits the writer's word bank is not a constrictive adherence to a measured pattern but the impetus to construe languid sounding poetry rich with metaphor. She begins by asking (addressing herself?) "Pure? What does it mean?" Through brief and uneasy imagery she conveys a sense of disgust, fear, and shame in the stanzas that follow. Exactly half-way through the poem, the speaker addresses someone in particular (outside herself) with "Darling, all night / I have been flickering, off, on, off, on. / The sheets grow heavy as a lecher's kiss." (Lines 28-30). The events that take place and have taken place behind the scenes of the poem are left to the imagination of the audience. When the poet says "Three days. Three nights. / Lemon water, chicken / Water, water make me retch." we do not know the personal memories and life experiences that inspired these words. We are left to imagine what might have happened or to simply ponder on the uneasy connotations of the rapidly changing horrors suggested in few words. The guard dog of hell, the vague and morbid reference to the freak-accident death of an American celebrity, and other "ghastly" snapshots are put to the audience with intermittent references to sin and love. After the half-way point and now directly addressing someone in particular, the poet declares herself "too pure for you or anyone." She informs the person that "Your body / Hurts me as the world hurts God." What the author describes is felt and understood by this reader in my own terms but not in terms that are easily conveyed. This demonstrates the usefulness of poetry paired with the shortcomings of our language; there are not enough words or known concepts for expressing all of our experiences and poetry finds ways of getting around this. What the author speaks of is shame, fear of intimacy, emotional vulnerability, and a struggle to reconcile human nature with the enculturation of shame and sin. The puritanical but lasting notions that "cleanliness is next to godliness" and that purity of mind and heart is not only to be sought but to remain constant and unwavering have met their matches with the liberal philosophies of the 20th century and the tension created by this conflict of values manifests in neurotic preoccupations which are then jotted down beautifully by Plath. The Cubist painter Georges Braque claimed that "Art is meant to disturb." Art should not be limited to serving only one function in society but "to disturb" the audience must have its place in art. If something artistic makes you feel uneasy or uncomfortable, it is because you are avoiding an uncomfortable conversation with yourself. Plath confronted her own shadows and shared them with the world. It seems there was no conversation or topic too uncomfortable to address for Plath because the discomfort was addressed and embraced with surrender. Unfortunately, she was unable to triumph over the neurotic preoccupations and emotional suffering through her confrontational and open approach. However, it has been suggested that poetry like that of Plath and other confessional poets has therapeutic applicability for some of those who write it and read it.
It seems that very few people have the self-confrontational honesty and insight demonstrated by confessional writers like Plath. Plath's poetry is truly "confessional" and has a particular vibe which is reflective of the modern American middle class at its darkest. It reads like disturbing diary entries and relates the personal psychology of a woman living in personal torment in a pristine and modern suburban setting. "Fever 103˚" consists of eighteen stanzas of three lines each. There is no rhyme scheme. What limits the writer's word bank is not a constrictive adherence to a measured pattern but the impetus to construe languid sounding poetry rich with metaphor. She begins by asking (addressing herself?) "Pure? What does it mean?" Through brief and uneasy imagery she conveys a sense of disgust, fear, and shame in the stanzas that follow. Exactly half-way through the poem, the speaker addresses someone in particular (outside herself) with "Darling, all night / I have been flickering, off, on, off, on. / The sheets grow heavy as a lecher's kiss." (Lines 28-30). The events that take place and have taken place behind the scenes of the poem are left to the imagination of the audience. When the poet says "Three days. Three nights. / Lemon water, chicken / Water, water make me retch." we do not know the personal memories and life experiences that inspired these words. We are left to imagine what might have happened or to simply ponder on the uneasy connotations of the rapidly changing horrors suggested in few words. The guard dog of hell, the vague and morbid reference to the freak-accident death of an American celebrity, and other "ghastly" snapshots are put to the audience with intermittent references to sin and love. After the half-way point and now directly addressing someone in particular, the poet declares herself "too pure for you or anyone." She informs the person that "Your body / Hurts me as the world hurts God." What the author describes is felt and understood by this reader in my own terms but not in terms that are easily conveyed. This demonstrates the usefulness of poetry paired with the shortcomings of our language; there are not enough words or known concepts for expressing all of our experiences and poetry finds ways of getting around this. What the author speaks of is shame, fear of intimacy, emotional vulnerability, and a struggle to reconcile human nature with the enculturation of shame and sin. The puritanical but lasting notions that "cleanliness is next to godliness" and that purity of mind and heart is not only to be sought but to remain constant and unwavering have met their matches with the liberal philosophies of the 20th century and the tension created by this conflict of values manifests in neurotic preoccupations which are then jotted down beautifully by Plath. The Cubist painter Georges Braque claimed that "Art is meant to disturb." Art should not be limited to serving only one function in society but "to disturb" the audience must have its place in art. If something artistic makes you feel uneasy or uncomfortable, it is because you are avoiding an uncomfortable conversation with yourself. Plath confronted her own shadows and shared them with the world. It seems there was no conversation or topic too uncomfortable to address for Plath because the discomfort was addressed and embraced with surrender. Unfortunately, she was unable to triumph over the neurotic preoccupations and emotional suffering through her confrontational and open approach. However, it has been suggested that poetry like that of Plath and other confessional poets has therapeutic applicability for some of those who write it and read it.
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