The Possibility

So...I just finished my blog, and then I went to post it, and I wasn't logged in, Shoot. :( Oh well, life goes on.

So this week, I decided to write a response on "The Possibility" by James Fenton. This poem is qite sad, but not a death kind of sad that we are have grown used to, but more of a my-life-is-not-what-I-really-expected-it-to-be kind of sad. In this poem, Fenton seems to be so overwhelmed that he is beginning to look more at the negative aspects of his life rather than the positives. I think he has reached the point that he is so overwhelmed and stressed about something, that he is blinded by the beauty that is life. I really started to think this in stanza two:

I know this flower is beautiful
And yesterday it seemed to be
It opened like a crimson hand
It was not beautiful to me

Ican really relate to him when he mentions that he knows the flower is beautiful, but at the moment that he is writing the poem, it's really not. I'm sure we all have played this mind tricks with ourselves at one point or another. Like, we know something is true, but we're so overwhlemed by our lives, that we only look at the negative aspects of things.

I know that work is beautiful
It is a boon, It is good.
Unless my working were a way
Of aquandering my solitude.

I think here FEnton is merging towards a self-reflection. He sees that working is a good thing in his life, but he then looks back and notices that throughout him working, he has developed a permanent solitude. Now he sees the nagative again, only this time, it pertains more to himself.

And Solitude was beautiful
When I was sure that I was strong.
I thought it was a medium
In which to grow, but I was wrong.

Have you ever gone through something so stressful and hard that the things you were once strong for, you're falling apart for now? I think that is what Fenton is going through. I love the way he goes from reflecting on is surroundings with the flower and knowing he can change his opinion, to reflecting on himself and solitude (also something he can change, but with more diffculty.) to reflecting on this future, in which he says he cannot change or grow for the better. It's somehwhat tragic the way he wrote this poem ,but I think it's just a weak point that eventually everyone goes through.

The Secret by Denise Levertov

This poem by Denise Levertov is a poem focusing around the "secret" two girls discover while reading a line in a poem. The author of the poem, Levertov, is also the author to the poem that had the secret in it. I think that Ms. Levertov wanted someone to get meaning out of her poem (as many of us do), and when they told her they found a secret in her poem, she wasn't all that curious.

"I who don't know the
secret wrote
the line. They
told me

(through a third person)
they had found it
but not what it was
not even

what line it was."

Honestly, that would drive me nuts!! Because I'd be sooo curious as to what they discovered about my poem! However, Denise Levertov has almost the oppsoite reaction--she's almost glad they didn't tell her what they thought was the secret to life because maybe she's trying to figure it out herself...? Okay, if I didn't know the answer to something of that importance, I would be more than willing to hear other people's opinions, but no, Ms. Levertov instead talks about how the girls will forget about her poem in a week, so, along the girls, she will never know what they thought.

I felt that the diction in this poem was very light and even almost peaceful--like Denise Levertov was really okay with not knowing. She was just happy that they thought there was a secret to begin with.

"I love them
for finding what
I can't find,

and for loving me
for the line I wrote,
and for forgetting it
so that

a thousand times, till death
finds them, they may
discover it again, in other
lines

in other
happenings. And for
wanting to know it,
for

assuming there is
such a secret, yes,
for that
most of all."


It really is a beautiful poem--I especially liked the ending and the mystery that we, as the reader, never find out what the secret was. Oh, and hey! It's not really a dark poem either! :D

Loveology.

This week for my poetry blog I decided to stray away from the poetry packet and write a response on a song. :) Recently, i've had an awfully big addiction to Regina Spektor, so I chose "Loveology" by her. The lyrics are really, really simple, but I feel like there's so much meaning behind them. She puts so much emotion towards the end to the song--I love it. :) This song hasn't been released or recorded in a studio (I hope it is soon!) so there's only live recordings out right now. Here's a link if you'd like to listen. Sorry the quality isn't very good: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ky6sPyJIcno

And the lyrics :) ...

Oh, An incurable humanist you are
Let's go to the movies,
I will hum you a song about nothing at all

Let's go to the movies,
I will sing you a song about nothing at all

Let's go to the movies, Let's go to the movies,
Nothing at all, Nothing at all, Nothing at all, Nothing at all.

Sit down class, open up your textbooks to page 42.

Porcupine-ology, antler-ology, car-ology, bus-ology, train-ology, plane-ology, mama-ology, papa-ology,you-ology, me-ology, love-ology, kiss-ology, stay-ology, please-ology.

Let's study class, let's study class. Sit down.

Love-ology, love-ology, I'm sorry-ology, forgive me-ology, love-ology, love-ology, I'm sorry-ology, forgive me-ology, love-ology, Love-ology.

Let's study class, let's study class.

Love-ology. Let's study class, sit down.

Love-ology, love-ology, I'm sorry-ology, forgive me-ology, love-ology, love-ology. I'm sorry-ology, forgive me-ology, love-ology, Love-ology.

Love-ology

Oh, an incurable humanist you are
Oh, forgive me, Oh, forgive me, Oh
Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me-ology.

The beginning of this song talks about a blooming love--how the fist stages start out slow to the point that they almost seem a bit pointless. "I will hum you a song about nothing at all." I also think that by using the word 'hum' it gives off a more childish feel to the lyrics. These lines are repeated throughout the beginning until my favorite part, "Sit down class..." Regina Spektor mentions her students opening their textbooks to page 42. The number 42 may be a reference to The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. In the book, the number 42 is the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything. I think this reference connects to the song since the subjects in this song are subjects that you wish people taught you.

I LOVE when she starts singing about the different "ologies" or subjects that her students are reading in their textbooks. She starts out with Porcupine-ology and Antler-ology which are refrences from another song of hers Mary Ann. It's random, but it's showing off her innocence. She then goes into love-ology and subjects that are painful--such as I'msorry-ology. I thought it was super cute and witty of her to say "I'msorry-ology" instead of apology, since that one already ends in "ology". Also, try taking out the "ologies" and just have the word:

Porcupine, antler, car, bus, train, plane, mama, papa ,you, me, love, kiss, stay, please.

Love love, I'm sorry forgive me, love, love I'm sorry- forgive me, love Love.

It sort of forms a message, and demonstrates the stages of love. The innocence and so forth. I'm sorry my thoughts are all over the place, I just love this song. It's so sweet and cute, and she puts so much emotion into it--especially after singing the second "I'msorry-ology." It's just lovely. :)

Theme for English B

Mrs. White! I completely and totally spaced that I didn't do a poetry response last week, so I'm sorry about that! D: This is my poetry response from last week, and after this, I'll do my response for this week. :)

I was so glad that you gave us a Langston Hughes poem and said that we could write a response on it: Langton Hughes is one of my absolute favorite poets.

Theme for English B
The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you---
Then, it will be true.
I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:
It's not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me--we two--you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York too.) Me--who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records---Bessie, bop, or Bach.

->Langston Hughes shows his reader that he isn't terribly different like people think he is. Just because he has a different skin color doesn't mean he isn't human--he still likes the same things as several other people.

I guess being colored doesn't make me NOT like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?
Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white--
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.

-->I love that part. He's trying to show his instructor that no matter how different they both may be from eachother, they are both still a part of eachother--human. The way Langston Hughes shows his to his instructor equality is sheer brilliance. I wish I could have seen the reaction of the people living in Langston Hughes' era to his poems. They are so strong' I couldn't imagine anyone trying to argue with Mr. Hughes.


That's American.
Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that's true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me--
although you're older--and white--
and somewhat more free.

This is my page for English B.

I am in love with the rhythm this poem has. It sounds like he's telling us a story. I don't even know how to describe it--all I know is that his style is so amazing...so unique. I only wish I could write poetry like Langston Hughes. This is the kind of poetry that is worth reading out loud :)

The Halo That Would Not Light

The Halo That Would Not Light, by Lucie Brock-Broido leaves a very empty feeling for the reader. It talks about how childhood, no matter how innocent and precious, eventually will fade.

When, after many years, the raptor beak   

Let loose of you,

 

                           He dropped your tiny body   

In the scarab-colored hollow

                           Of a carriage, left you like a finch   

Wrapped in its nest of linens wound

With linden leaves in a child’s cardboard box.   

Tonight the wind is hover-

Hunting as the leather seats of swings go back   

And forth with no one in them

As certain and invisible as

                           Red scarves silking endlessly

From a magician’s hollow hat

                           And the spectacular catastrophe

Of your endless childhood

                                                    Is done.

 

 

Though a tragic piece, I absolutely adore the way Lucie Brock-Broido divided up this poem. The structure is simply divine, and the way she ends it is brilliant. Two simple words impact the reader in a way that makes him or her almost do a reflection on themselves. The beginning starts with a refrence to the childhood stork that is known to deliver babies to people on their front steps. This is a direct reference to a person being a child, and how they slowly mature into a young adult. After reading this poem, I found myself looking back on my short life and reflecting on how the innocence and carefree enviornment I once knew was over. I believe that this is was the author's antecedent for writing this poem--she felt overwhelmed by how quickly she had grown up and matured. It was a tragic realization, and it left me with a baffled expression at how quickly time has passed without my knowing of it.

 

As for the title, what I pictured immediately was an angel. Angels are the epitome of innocence and bliss, and for that reason I believe that is why the halo would not light--because the time of immaturity and carefree thoughts were over. This halo would no longer light again for it was time to take on the real world and to forget the time of innocence--I think that is what the character in the poem was experiencing. This poem can easily be more ambigious and not necessarily about childhood, but perhaps, change in general--how people have to learn to deal with change and adjust. I loved this.