Harlem - Langston Hughes

What an interesting thought and way to look at it. This entire poem is a personification of a dream...even though Hughes isn't giving the dream human-like qualities, it makes it an animate object. The thing about this poem is he's describing each way a person can feel when their dreams aren't attained, which in point, makes the dream more human. It makes me want to attain all my dreams because the dream seems so human, and if I don't it's like I failed at doing something important and then rejected it...just like that. It's a very sad but persuasive way to look at this type of situation. I really will have to strive harder for my dreams now.

Towards the end, I like how he says "Maybe it just sags like a heavy load" because by that time, even though the poem is short, I really feel like I'm sagging...and when you're sagging you just want that pressure to go away, to just magically disappear, and then at the last line that pressure explodes! That probably isn't the best thing to happen to a deferred dream either, but at least you don't have to go around carrying all that weight of failing at your dream.

I want to know why the poem is named Harlem though...is it saying that many people in Harlem can't reach their dreams? Isn't Harlem a really crime-infested area (at least parts of it?). That explosion could correlate to the last line...with guns going off and stuff, it's like a mini-explosion. Is he saying that people who can't attain their dreams rely on crime to help their problems? That's probably a really risky thing to say.

And the raisin in the sun...there's a book called "A Raisin in the Sun" ... I want to know if those two have anything to do with each other, and if so, who got the influence from who?

i thank You God for most this amazing day - e.e. cummings

I'm not too familiar with e.e. cummings aside from the little bit I read about him in the back of our book, which I found a little surprising. The way he writes would make me think that he was uneducated, or maybe dyslexic (even the words in the title seem like they're out of order...shouldn't it be "for this most amazing day"? it just seems a little weird the way he does it). But low and behold! He's a Harvard scholar! Who was also a prisoner of war...which may explain the first line of his second stanza. Because being a prisoner of war I'm sure doesn't make you feel alive until you walk away freely into the sunny day.

I do like his depiction of the sun's birthday, and it reminds me of Shakespeare's (whom I've actually come to appreciate for some reason) "Sonnet 18." Shakespeare personifies the sun by making him "the eye of heaven." Then also, John Donne has a small monologue with the sun in his poem "The Sunne Rising." I'm assuming that there was some sort of influence, going on here, or each of these poets just really love the sun, which is cool too.

This should be the prayer that is said at the beginning of the day. We should be thankful for each day that we wake up and find everything in the perfection we so adore.

I kind of see this poem as a dream though, because at the end he has those two lines in parentheses "(now the ears of my ears awake and / now the eyes of my eyes are opened)". It seems like he was dreaming of this ever so perfect day, and at the end of the poem he awakes ... it kind of makes me want to know whether his dream came true or if he awoke to a gloomy cloudy day...how ironic would that be?

Cake - Mark Strand

This poem reminds me of Robert Frosts "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening." Both characters are lost in the woods, only I feel more detached from this one than I did for Robert Frost's character. I felt like I was actually in the woods on that snowy evening, and here I feel like I'm watching this man on a screen or something, but I'm not actually with him. What it reminded me of, is this story I saw on Dateline (because I LOVE investigative journalism) about this man who had been spotted walking along the beach somewhere...nobody knows where he came from, and he couldn't speak. The only thing he could do was play the piano like Mozart or Chopin...other than that, nobody knows about him, he just showed up randomly. I was hoping this character would be like that...it would have made for an interesting story.

What I don't get, is why it was cake that was the whole reason he got lost. Cake. Out of all things, he chose cake. Cake just seems so unrelated to the forest, so far from nature. It's almost discomforting. That discomfort goes along with the fact that this man disappears and then suddenly reappears a few years later without any transition between the two events.

And why are the waves of the sea black? It makes me think of muck and gooey water. Ew.

The only comforting thing about the discomfort of this entire poem is the way it flows. It starts with the guy going to get the cake, and then not finding it, getting lost, and then going back to get it again, to end up in his thoughts, where he was while he was lost. It just seems to flow really well, even if the poem doesn't make much sense.

Eating Poetry - Mark Strand

I really really like this poem. It takes me back to childhood when you play pretend and turn into something. Eating poetry...I just love that sound and that concept. It's like having a tea party with poetry as the cookies.

It reminds me of an actor who will for a time, while filming, turn into his character, to really get the gist of his personality. The speaker here, turns into what he is reading to better understand it. I picture a little boy at the library, literally eating the pages of poetry, with the librarian standing there in shock. Or maybe even, it's a little boy who's just reading all this poetry which should be way over his head, but isn't, and the librarian can't get over that.

This is sometimes how I feel after I've been reading a book for a really long time, and after I finish reading, I'm so caught up in the characters of the book that I begin to think and act like them. If it's a British book I really honestly start thinking in a British accent and answering people with British phrases.

I don't have much to say about the style or structure of this poem, except that the 3 line stanzas go with my theory of this reminding me of a little kid poem...it's simple and broken up, something you might see in a children's book. It doesn't take a genius to understand it, although I'm sure there are things beneath the words that I'm just not catching.

This Is Just To Say - William Carlos Williams

I love this poem...it reminds me of that nursery rhyme about Little Jack Horner, who was eating the Christmas pie, and put in his thumb, then pulled out a plum and said "What a good boy am I!" Of course here I picture Little Jack Horner in the corner looking all guilty about the plums he has eaten and saying "What a bad boy am I!" It also makes me think of a post-it note a guilty husband would stick to the fridge..."Sorry hun, I ate the plums you had in the icebox...I'm sure you were saving them for breakfast, but forgive me anyway." It's so cute and so simple. I really do want to forgive him, because I can so relate to eating something or taking something away that was not meant to be used until later, or it was for someone else, but I had to take it because it was too tempting and just took control over me!

I would like to know why he doesn't use any punctuation in this poem. I can see the enjambment happening from the first stanza to the next, but it makes it all the more confusing when you reach the third stanza, because then you have to realize the stop. He does make up for it by capitalizing the first letter of the first word in the third stanza, but still...I don't understand why there is absolutely no punctuation, especially at the end of the second stanza. And also there should be some sort of punctuation after the second line in the third stanza, because when you read it, there should be a slight pause, to think about the sweetness and temptation of these plums.

Maybe he's trying to make his apology quick.

Sestina - Elizabeth Bishop

I just don't really get this poem. It's kind of weird. I like the idea of a Sestina, and I may want to try it sometime. I kind of like this feeling of tranquility and peace of coloring on a rainy day while listening to my grandma bustle about the house. My grandma just died last week, and this kind of scene is something I'm going to cherish for the rest of my life. When I was younger, this would be exactly what a rainy afternoon with my grandma would entail. My grandmother was big on arts and crafts and right now, I can actually picture a specific day when we were doing this sort of thing.

Although, I would really like to know why the grandmother is crying. I like how Bishop relates everything back to the tears, but I really want to know why the grandmother is crying. It makes me wonder if my grandmother ever cried or tried to hide her tears before me. I can't imagine how that must feel...to be crying and just want to burst out and let someone know how you feel, but you can't. I hope my grandma wasn't sad. :(

I like the metaphor Bishop uses for the kettle, of the kettle singing. People usually find that noise annoying, but I've always liked it, and now I'll be able to explain why. And I love the way she says that the tears dance (15) ... I wrote a story not that long ago that described tears as "trotting" and I submitted it to The Normal Review...people were making fun of that statement, but now I see I'm not the only one who tries to personify tears and give them human-like actions.

Is the grandmother a happy kind of sad, knowing that for her also, this will be the type of memory she will cherish for the rest of her life, which chances are, may not be too much longer?

I feel bad for the grandchild. He's in his own little bubble...kind of like A.D.D. ... doesn't he see the grandmother crying? Well I guess not, because she's trying to hide her tears.

But I really really want to know why she's crying. This is going to bother me.

The Emperor of Ice Cream - Wallace Stevens

Ok so, the poem first seemed intriguing because I thought it was going to be like a little kid poem. It reminded me of some book I read when I was younger that had to do with ice cream. But I don't see what the poem has to do with ice cream at all. I'm starting to think it's a metaphor for something, but it's kind of hard to figure out what. The second stanza sort of makes me think of death with somebody is cold, and dumb. If it is about death, then I'm assuming, that the emperor of ice cream is maybe the emperor of death, because life, like ice cream doesn't last forever - it melts away. I do like how the poem is started...it really grabs my attention and and leads me into...well into what I really have no idea about, but I just like that first line anyway. I also really don't understand concupiscent curds. When I looked concupiscent up in the dictionary it said something about sexual desire. How are curds sexually desired? Is there a second meaning to the word curd? Also, why would you bring flowers in newspapers ? I picture the ink from the newspaper coming off on the flowers, making them ugly and poisoning them...wait! Maybe, if this is about death, then the flowers kind of signify death in that sense, because somebody is dying, like the flowers would die from having ink smeared all over them. Maybe somebody ate too much ice cream, the emperor of ice cream perhaps, and therefor died from it.

This poem just got way too much fun.

I don't know why, but I do really like this poem, even though I really have no idea what it means. I like the literary devices Stevens used, like the alliteration in Line 3. I also do like how it's not rhyming...I grew kind of tired of rhyming poems. And maybe not knowing what the poem means is all the joy in it. He uses fun words and images...if only I could put them all together.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening - Robert Frost

I first read this poem last year in my College Writing 2 class, in which I realized that poetry is not such a bad thing, and that I highly enjoyed it. I really love the image of a snowy winter night in the woods - it's one of my favorite pictures to imagine. Especially when you picture it during the era of Frost before automobiles and technology. Snowy evenings seem so peaceful - have you ever walked outside during a snowy evening and realized how the atmosphere is so silent? It's like the snow falling mutes any other sound. I love how Frost takes his readers back to nature. His poems are so innocent in this way. I love the concept of this poem, how the speaker takes a pause out of his trip just to enjoy nature and the snowy evening. It would be such a perfect poem for readers today to read, since our society is so hyped up with life, that we don't ever actually take any time to really sit and enjoy it.

Again, this is a simple, easy poem. It's written in monologue which brings the reader a lot closer to the speaker - it's very intimate. He's telling us a story, a tip, some advice. He's speaking directly to us. He gives little anecdotes (like the horse) about this 2 minute experience, which make the poem even more personal. I always say that if you consider only a minute of your day, you can write me most excellent short story/poem/piece of literature about it - so much goes through our minds during the course of one minute. It's a very simple pleasant poem and I just love it.