You fit into me.

you fit into me
like a hook into an eye

a fish hook
an open eye
-Margaret Atwood
This super short poem makes me want to go and watch the sunset. . . Weird, I know. Maybe I just have spring fever? :)

At first, Margaret Atwood seems to be writing a love poem. Kind of like, "We belong together: we're the perfect fitting puzzle pieces." But then the reader realizes that a hook and an eye normally don't go together. At this point, the second stanza is read, and you realize that sarcasm and misinterpretation can be a powerful thing.

I thought this poem to be one of those situations where through sarcasm and passive agressive-ness, it gets the point across. I imagine Atwood telling this other person how fitting their relationship is ... in the most non-fitting way. That doesn't really make sense.

Okay, it's like if someone were to say, "That was the most compassionate thing you've ever said to me ... you actually didn't make me feel completely worthless this time." It totally reminds me of a breakup letter too. Haha :)

The beginning makes you think that it's a poem that's going to be sincere and loving, but it turns out to be so deceiving and bitter. Tricky, Ms. Atwood. Basically, Atwood is saying this relationship isn't meant to be.

A fish hook
in an open eye
Describing this relationship in such a painful (literally) way, it connects the reader in feeling emotion towards the poem -- whether it's sympathy towards Atwood or towards themselves. I also feel like Atwood is insulting the person:
"Oh haha. You're totally the best person ever ... if everyone else on this planet didn't exist."

Catch my drift? :)

I like this poem. It's so short, with only 5 lines, and two stanza's, but I think Margaret Atwood did this to keep the focus straight and to make the turning point have a bite to it. by making this poem so short, it makes the poem feel so exposed and so raw -- and I really like that it.
P.S Regina Spektor wrote a song where she mentions Margaret Atwood and Virginia Woolf. I kept singing that song while I did this blog. :)

The Book.

Let me just start out by saying props to Miller Williams for writing such a neat poem! It totally shocked me at how vivid the imagery was (not to mention kind of grossed me out, haha)

Anyways, this poem starts out by this friend, we'll say, who is listening to a story of a boy who found a book with blank pages in an old bunker. The boy starts writing in it as if it were his sketchbook and diary. One day, he shows the book to an old bookeeper who, completely in shock, tells the boy that the book is made out of human skin. It never tells us how the boy reacted to such news, but I assume it went something like this:

"-Gasp- it's made out of human skin! Ahh jkaf;dl!!"
"Well....I've been writing in it for a few years...It did feel a litte uhh, 'fleshy'. . . And I guess I always did feel a little sketch while writing in it...So uhhm..yeah."

And then the man probably looked at him, and there were no doubt some awkward glances exchanged. Typical.

But! On a more serious note, I think the way Williams presents this poem is the brilliant part: he doesn't tip-toe around the turning point of the poem -- a book bound in human skin. He doesn't foreshadow the turning point, so the reader doesn't dwell on the anticipation of figuring out the punchline before it is even given. Also, Williams' diction throughout the poem is kept very simple -- almost as if wanting to just keep the focus of the book and not distract the reader with crazy, vivid words. This poem is a sestet with no rhyme scheme. It's told almost like a story. The end shows repetition with, "I stared..." to provide emphasis on the last stanza, which is a second turning point in the poem.

My interpretation of this poem is that obviously, this book isn't made out of human skin but out of memories. Memories so vivid that they take the form of something. Perhaps the "human flesh" was that of the boy. And when the friend asks himself who the flesh is made out of, a child or a woman or a man, it's sort of all of them -- all the people who interacted with the boy and made those memories.

I stared and a horror gre, which was, which is,
how beautiful it was until I knew.

The memories were beautiful. The illustrations...flawless.
But when he found out what it was, the illusion was ruined.
Maybe playing the 'ignorance is bliss' card..?

You are lovely.

You are lovely. by msramos11 featuring floral dresses

So there's a super, duper cool site called polyvore.com where you can make a collection/outfit out of millions of pieces of clothes, accessories, you name it! I made this little outfit, and I absolutely love it! I wish I had it in my closet :)

The trees in the garden...

I didn't really know what to think of this poem. It confused me for some weird reason, but I'll get to that later on.
It's a one stanza poem with no general rhyme scheme, and! Surprisingly enough, there's dialogue in it, which was a really neat twist. The hyphens towards the end made the poem more impactful by creating a pause before revealing the last sentence. (Which, I love :))

Okay, so basically this poem shows the imagery of a sort of garden at the beginning. Children are picking flowers and only the fittest and strongest are picking the "heaps" of flowers. In the end, only chance blossoms were all that remained for the more feeble children. Then I guess a kid runs to the father and tells him how this is unjust. The father assures the kis that this is just. This is the part I don't understand:

For, look you,

Are not they who possess the flowers

Stronger, bolder, and shrewder

Than they who have none?

Why should the strong—

--the beautiful strong—

Why should they not have the flowers?"

Is the father saying that everyone should have flowers even if they are strong? That doesn't make sense since the kid is telling the father it's not fair that the strong get more flowers...?

Or is the father saying that everyone got flowers, and everyone who has flowers is strong -- stronger than those who don't have flowers, so even the weak are strong?

But if it were the latter, why does he say, "Why should they not have the flowers?"

If he's being just, why doesn't everyone get flowers -- weak and strong?

I can't even decide what I think it is; I just have so many questions about the ending. I just think everyone should get flowers!

I  haven't a clue why this poem is causing me so many problems. :(

Cottonmouth Country

Dear Mrs. White, 

Life has been kinda crazy with homework and me being sick that one week, so I'm very sorry my blogs haven't been up to date. I'm playing catch up this week; I promise I'll be on top of things from now on :)

Cottonmouth Country

By Louise Gluck

Fish bones walked the waves off Hatteras.

And there were other signs

That Death wooed us, by water, wooed us

By land:  among the pines

An uncurled cottonmouth that rolled on moss

Reared in the polluted air.

Birth, not death, is the hard loss.

I know.  I also left a skin there.

Since it was short, I just posted the whole poem up on here. :)

The first time I read this poem, the feeling I got from it was a sort of eerie, depressing, and dark feel (probably because it mentions fish bones and Death -- all reasonable to give off such a feeling.) But the more times I read it, the more my feelings turned towards a sort of dissatisfaction.

"An uncurled cottonmouth that rolled on moss

Reared in the polluted air"

I found this to be one of the main lines in which I thought the Gluck was dissatisfied. The way she describes this place seems very unattached and she uses words that aren't words you would say to describe a place you love. (polluted air ... uncurled cottonmouth... etc.)

This poem is an octet, with no set rhyming scheme. I believe Gluck did this because she really only had one main thing to say, and she wanted to be blunt about it.

When Gluck mentions, "Birth, not death, is the hard loss" notice this is the second time she mentions "death" but does not capitalize the second use of it. Perhaps this was unintentional, but I think because the first mention of Death referred to the place, she capitalized it to show emphasis on how she much she regretted living there. The second mention of death is more of just emphasising the opposite birth.

Birth, not death, is the hard loss.

Birth is also something one can't control, and it's deemed a miracle. For Gluck to say otherwise makes the poem more striking, and it shows how unhappy she was living in the cottonmouth country. She's explaining how, if given the choice, she would not choose to live there and die somewhere else.

This poem is really depressing, and I didn't really like it too much just because I pictured her whining about how she didn't like where she lived. And she tried too hard to be creative. Cottonmouth is a snake, and she finished the poem saying, "I know. I also left a skin there" to show change.