Molly Peacock
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10. Peacock's Ch. 10 // remember teeter-totters? Kate
remember teeter-totters?
At one point in the chapter, Peacock says, "The enterprise of reading poetry permits us, even requires us, as readers to hold both intuition and reasoning as twins in our arms. Our obligation to the poem is to balance the reality of the poet's vocabulary with the force of the reaction it provokes in us" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, 143). I thought this was a good way to put it and that this statement was something i should latch on to. I think Peacock demonstrates this balance in her reactions to Ondaatje's poem, discussing much of the style and structural effects but also her emotional and personal reactions. I had a little bit of a difficult time finding an organization to Peacock's explorations, which was sometimes a little confusing for me--she seemed to go back and forth very seamlessly between intuitive and reasoning comments--but maybe that's how she finds the balance between the two . . . i don't know.
Peacock first discusses the meter accents of the poem, its "songlike," "chant" nature, how the syllables are evenly stressed in the beginning lines. She then talks about punctuation, how the absence of or addition of affects the mood/message. Next, she discusses tone and how this relates to/affects the reader. She also compares and contrasts Ondaatje's poem with Komunyakaa, through their ideas, themes, and some structures. Then she discusses ways in which the poem seems to make statements about poetry in general, for example the truthfulness vs. falsities in poetry (on page 145). Peacock further discusses the structure of the poem through the different levels that exist (line vs. sentence). And finally, she explores how she personally related to and identified with the poem.
I think I can definitely expand on my reactions in the area of reasoning, looking at more of the structural and vocabulary decisions made in poems. I think why I haven't done this as much is because i feel like I don't really know much about these things, but Peacock seems to analyze it in a way not necessarily using all the big poetry terms but just looking at the different effects of the poem. She had many exciting insights that make me excited to explore these aspects more.
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10. Peacock's Chapter Ten // Balled & Bawled Ryan
A lot can be learned from Peacock's chapter on how to read poetry. Whereas I usually stress images and themes, Peacock seems to stress the language usage and what different words mean in different contexts. When I first read this chapter on Peacock, I was somewhat upset because I thought she was over-analyzing the poems and pulling certain meanings out of thin air. But as I went back over the poems, some of her observations became more apparent. For example, she claimed that the word "balled" four lines from the end of the poem could also be read as "bawled." When I read this I scoffed out loud (literally). As a firm believer that every single word in a poem is there for a very specific reason, I thought that it was sacrilege to change words and around to see the effect. But after reading the poem again, and focusing on the very different image "bawled" gave to the mood of the poem, I began to see what Peacock was getting at.
Another thing that Peacock pointed out, which I often miss altogether, is the length and rhythm of the lines. I think that I still read poetry too much like a book and over look this important aspect unique to poetry. Although I am still struggling and learning to discern rhyme and meter, I can see how it can have a hypnotizing effect upon the reader. Peacock points out that the shorter lines in the poem, like "to slip in something bad" (Komunyakaa, Letters from Two Fathers, in Peacock p. 127). Although I never seem to give lines of different length special consideration, I can see how they can be triggers of emotional and topical change or emphasis. I guarantee that I will never read lines of different lengths the same again.
The last interesting point Peacock makes in chapter ten is the line, "Images themselves are silent" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 136). This is what I like most about poetry. There seems to be a synergy between the words and the meaning. Somehow the words on the paper are just a tool to describe something else, something greater than the sum of its parts. This line reminds me of Miller and his poems and belief that there is nothing beyond the words. But there definitely IS something behind those words, something great and profound. There is something about poetry that can describe like no other art form is able to. I cannot describe it, but I really feel it. Sometimes the beauty of a poem is not in what is written, but in what is not written.
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10. Peacock's Chapter Ten // Our Predictable Lives Jeff
Life is so unpredictable. This is how I usually tend to interpret my life. However, Peacock puts a twist on my thinking to where I have to reject my old notion and accept a new notion concerning life: life is too predictable. Peacock convinced me that my life is full of predictability. As I think about my daily routine, I see her point. Peacock says, "Our lives are not only filled with predictable combinations, they are made of them-these combinations are the fabric of our daily communication" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 137). Since our lives are so predictable, Peacock teaches us how to love the unpredictability of poetry.
Peacock taught me how to look for the syllables in the lines of poetry. By counting them and seeing the breaks in patterns, we discover the unpredictable style of the poet’s style. Peacock says that by paying special attention to the short lines we might discover an "emotional shift" in the tone of the poem (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 133).
Peacock shows how one should also pay attention the punctuation in a poem. For instance in Komunyaka’s "Letters and Other Worlds" he only begins to use punctuation after the father dies. I did not catch that there was no punctuation in the beginning of the poem until Peacock pointed it out to me. I need to not assume that all poems have the correct punctuation. I need to pay more close attention to the unpredictable punctuation styles of poets.
Peacock reminded me to connect the end of the poem with the beginning of the poem. Usually in any novel or poem, I assume that I’m moving from point A to point B. However, some authors might try to connect the ending to the beginning. What a surprise it is to see that both of the poems we read in chapter Ten were circling back on themselves. How unpredictable!
I also found it interesting how Peacock analyzes the word "almost" in Komunyakaa’s "My Father’s Loveletters". I need to pay more attention to the way poets make their conscious decisions of where to break their sentences into lines. However, maybe it’s sometimes an unconscious decision. In this case, I wouldn’t want to fret too much time in analyzing it.
I like how Peacock showed us how the word "balled" at the end of Komunyakaa’s poem sounds like "bawled." I wasn’t expecting an image to sound like an action.
With eyes closed & fists balled,
Laboring over a simple word,
Opened like a fresh wound, almost
Redeemed by what he tried to say.
(Komunyakaa, "My Father’s Loveletters," in How to Read a Poem, p. 127).
Finally I learned what an ampersand is. So if you here me use this word in future posts, you know who I learned it from.
-Jeff
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10. Peacock's Chapter Ten // Peacock Logic Jennifer
In Peacock’s response to "My Father’s Loveletters", comments on the following:
-the careful detail of the poem: including the mother’s postcards of desert flowers.
-the circular quality of the poem, images that return on a weekly basis, in this case
-the importance of the father’s closed lids
-pay attention to the short lines of the poem
-diminishment of father in the face of the boy’s extra responsibilities
-connotations for sentences
-boy as wedge
-word pictures within the poem
-"almost redeemed" makes the reader realize that words cannot take away actions, but they can help
-balled as bawled
-use of the ampersand
-letters as a circular entity, unlike the father’s in this poem because they will not be replied to
(Peacock, How to Read a Poem…, p. 132-139)
Peacock seems to respond to the poem as a whole, while breaking it into parts and taking information from those parts to enhance her overall interpretation. I think this is a logical way to peer into the depths of a poem, without losing the overall meaning. Peacock’s method of looking at the whole as well as its parts can be used for any poem or any way of examining a poem. When reading with a reader’s perspective in mind, the reader can look at the overall affect of the poem on his or her emotions, but also at the individual portions of the poem, individual lines or stanzas, which affect the reader more than others. When reading with the author’s perspective in mind, the reader can also look at the overall poem as it relates back to the author’s life or beliefs, but also can examine certain individual aspects of the poem for their specific context within the mind of the author. In other words, Peacock’s manner of exploration for this poem could be used by any individual in any given situation to closely examine a poem.
I personally think that this is the way I have been reading poetry to this point, so Peacock’s theory doesn’t seem that revolutionary to me. However, it is possible that I do not correctly understand her manner of interpretation.
This was my favorite line out of Peacock’s chapter 10. "’But I make poems out of regular words!’"(Peacock, How to Read a Poem…, p. 148)
It still amazes me how normal people can twist normal, everyday words to create images of their choosing. Fascinating!
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10. Peacock // Curve Ball Stephanie
Curve Ball
Peacock's Chapter 10: Letters From Two Fathers
"Our lives are not only filled with predictable combinations, they are made of them--these combinations are the fabric of our daily communications" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, 137). Peacock says this when talking about Komunyakaa's poem, "My Father's Loveletters," and in reference to the second to last line about the placement of "almost." I believe she sums up an aspect of poetry fairly well here. We are all on our predictable routines in some ways and like Peacock says, when we hear "green" we might expect "grass" to follow. The poet's job is to throw us a curve ball, to step away from cliches so that we are liberated from our embedded way of thinking, and we transgress to another level where green can be associated with something completely unexpected, like "Grandfather's old toenails." !!!
I thought the rest of Peacock's chapter was useful to show how you can interpret a poem and how you can find meaning from the simplest comma or placement of "and." However, most of us might have found it frustrating if we thought about it as her telling us the steps to reading a poem and how it should be read. For myself, I read the poetry and let it sit for awhile and then read on after I realized she was going to analyze the poem for us. Then I found Peacock's insight helpful in further understanding my interpretation and in some instances, enhancing.
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10. Peacock // Playing catch up with Peacock Tim
I'd like to say first that this chapter gave me some useful insights into these poems that made the poems more meaningful to me (like our discussion in class does). I would also like to express my feelings on the chapters discussion on Ondaantje's poem. I think what Peacock says about the duality of this poem, the "layering of truth" is awesome. I think this would be a good topic to address in discussion. There is so much to talk about in this reading, but I must choose one topic because my previous entry was too long. I'll concentrate this entry on some thoughts derived from this reading and a week of contemplation.
Looking at this reading reinforced some thoughts I've been turning in my mind all week. My analytical skills that dictate how I read are not developed in the ways a person reads and analyzes poetry. This seems obvious to me now, like something I should have assumed the first day of class, but I didn't verbalize this until this week. My business classes have infected my brain into finding the meaning in numbers and sentences that I know the end of. This is the worst approach to poetry, no wonder I am frustrated trying to find the meaning. I keep looking for the main idea, the concrete thread carried throughout a poem (there isn't necessarily one).
Peacock has a great insight:
Free verse depends on its breaks, where the line stops the sentence from going on and makes us pause-- and therefore guess at-- the next word. When the word is a surprise, that break succeeds, since most reading depends on predictability. Our lives are not only filled with predictable combinations, they are made of them-- these combinations are the fabric of our daily communication.
This selection affirms many of my concerns. I hope now that I have asserted this problem, I may be able to expand my literary analytical abilities to include more abstract approaches like examining individually the work, the sentence, the line, the word, and the syllable. I may try examining a poem's prepositions or even look at textual shape (like in the french rain poem). Maybe I'm taking an all to
o logical approach to expanding the way I look at poems, oh well. I know this is just what has been said in class all along, but for some reason it is hitting me now.*****************
10. Peacock chapter 10 // Peahen flirts with the mafia Adam
Molly starts talking about (dare i say analyzing?) these poems with a sweeping statement of what the poets' intents were, and them jumps into how they went about it. In these cases the key words are "specifics" and "particulars", which correlate roughly to the cerebral cortex in Molly's outlandish poetry anatomy, and which make them so good, in my opinion. She then wriggles into a series of interpreting the imagery in first one poem and then the next. I found myself agreeing and then strongly disagreeing with her, but overall, i like the open mindedness she brought to these works. Z.b. "The boy is sentenced to speech", way to go Molly!, that is a nifty flip of the ordinary....hmm, to be trapped by articulateness, to be too expressive, i like it.
I did not see the circularity of these poems at first, and that will help me in my reading of poetry in the future - to look at the structure of the poem more, to see how the poet has employed his/her words to work in the unit. "Who needs to hear the stories of these men?" Her most brilliant comment is a question, and it will help me the most. I need to ask the simple questions that come before the assumption that this poem exists: Why does it exist? What labored it into shape? Why this need to "memorialize"? Memory and identity....
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10. Peacock's Chapter Ten // As the Words Turn Scott
As the Words Turn
Responding to Yusef Komunyakaa's poem, "My Father's Loveletters," Molly Peacock first identifies the type of poem she's dealing with, which, in this case, is a circular poem. She notices the father's shut eye lids is both an opening and closing image. Since Komunyakaa's poem is free verse, Peacock immediately tells us to pay attention to short lines. The number of syllables are of the utmost importance. In the poem, she explains, the author consciously creates a shorter line that's different in tone from the rest of the poem. Our attention should be drawn there to figure out why the author has employed such a device. Lines like "
To slip in something bad; On the concrete floor; Of the tool shed change the music and meaning of the poem. Peacock points out that the feeling of the poem "is harnessed by Komunyakaa's coordination of line rhythm and visual frame (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 136). As such, the poem's longest sentence is followed by its shortest. Connections are made between the words themselves and the action or plot within the poem. The author's father can tell us how many bricks are in each blueprint; Peacock explains that Komunyakaa's poem intentionally has images stacked brick by brick. Moreover, by using the word quiet to explain the brutal setting of the tool shed, Peacock tells us, Komunyakaa "makes us realize that brutality is usually noisy, but here it is silent--or inarticulate" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 136). It's easy to see that Peacock wants a reader to recognize the great care taken while composing a poem. The words on the page are merely one part of the dialogue between poet and reader. What's written between the words, or rather inside the words, for example, the forceful images, the music, the absolute meaning behind every sound and syllable is likewise important.Peacock explains that free verse attempts to disrupt our predictable lives and predictable readings. Therefore, we are led to guess at the next word to start the next line, but usually find ourselves surprised when we get there. She explains that Komunyakaa uses this to great effect with the word
almost, which is used at the end of the second-to-last line. In many ways, this can be more truthful and real to explaining a situation than predictable word choices. We have to wait until the next line to find out what happens, instead of assuming things based on previous reading experience.Peacock listens to the word "
balled" and points out that it sound similar to "'bawled' because the poem is so close to crying" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 138). This is another important connection to make. How do the words sound as compared to actions? Why are certain words used in certain poems? Peacock explores this issue well.At the end of her look into "My Father's Loveletters," Peacock also points out that the "sadness of Komunyakaa's father's love letters is that they aren't circular. The mother seems to have no intention of responding" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 139). Here, she wants us to pay attention to the focus of the poem itself, who it's being written to, why it's being written at all, who it's trying to connect to. From Peacock's view, this can have an important impact on the final tone of the poem. No doubt, if we knew or felt there was a possibility of the poet's mother responding to the father's letter, we would understand the poem differently.
I think Peacock's methods of exploring a poem are helpful because of their great care and attention to detail. It's obvious that when she gets through examining a poem, she really knows the words, sounds, images, themes, sentences, and lines inside out. That doesn't mean she always understands everything perfectly or better than anyone else, but it does mean that the poem has stuck with her for an extended period of time. She tastes the words, feels them, plays with them, sounds them out, all in search of a deeper meaning. I can use these techniques to expand my own understanding of a poem.
Most important, it seems that Peacock wants to make clear that every single aspect of a poem has meaning. Each word, line break, etc. is chosen very carefully and for a specific reason. Great poets use great ideas in their writings. With Peacock's help, I feel I have a better idea where to find and appreciate these powerful ideas.
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10. peacock's chapter ten // dissecting the family Kevin
well folks, Peacock is at it again, dissecting poems to find all the hidden meanings. I enjoyed what she did with Komunyakaa's poem. I thought it was pretty well done and insightful. I especially enjoyed the mentions she made about the circular nature of the poem. Having a circular rhythm is such a good technique and it is something that I never really notice unless someone tells me it is there. Every Friday a fresh wound is opened again... the ritual grinds at the participants... the ritual you cant get out of ( Peacock, How to Read a Poem, 138) She brings to light the fact that the people in the poem are trapped in a circle themselves. Every Friday they do the same awful thing. For the father it is his penance, his attempt at redemption. For the child, it is a way of growing up, of assertion, and of caring for their father. The stuff Peacock (and some of my classmates-way to go) said about the cactus also makes good sense. I hadn't really thought about the fact that the postcards were of cacti. There is nothing forgiving or cuddly about cacti. They are solitary and brutal to the touch. What better image for the estranged mother to send. She wants nothing to do with the family, and has her spines up to prove it.
overall, I liked what peacock has done, but there is certainly something to be said for leaving a poem intact and not deciding what every last line means. This poem, although not at all what the author was shooting for, made me think of the days when I was a young lad and I would help my father, who is a carpenter by trade. All the tool images are happy and warm for me, cause they remind me of happy times with my, Peacock's interpretations of them certainly are not. They are cruel implements of torture and bad feelings.
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10. Peacock's Chapter Ten // Make new friends, but keep the old... JT
For me, the most intriguing part of Peacock's analysis on the two poems is her comments on the circularity of the poems. She discusses how the end of each poem brings the reader back to the beginning, like the image of the snake biting its tail. This is something I hadn't been thinking about until she mentioned it. As Peacock mentioned, the circle is a very widely used and a very powerful symbol. It has no defined beginning or end, but is connected in one fluid line. It is a symbol of eternity and of interconnectedness. It can be found in wedding rings, the idea of the "Circle of Life", from The Lion King, and throughout literature. Many stories begin at one time, during which the characters tell a story from their past which brings us full circle- right back to the time in which the story started. The symbol of a circle is even found in an old Girl Scout song: "Make new friends, but keep the old- one is silver and the other gold. A circle is round, it has no end. That's how long I want to be your friend." Circles surround us, enclose us- hold us safe in their grasp. They stand testament to the fact that some things do last for an eternity, and show us that we are not alone, but are necessarily connected with all who have touched our lives. In Peacock's words, "We all seem to like circles. I have never met anyone who didn't see the magic of a ring or didn't like to be held in an embrace, provided it was loose enough......Correspondence, if it is intense enough, is circular, unending. The sadness of Komunyakaa's father's love letters is that they aren't circular. The mother seems to have no intention of responding." (Peacock, How To Read a Poem, p. 139) Any form of communication- whether by letter or in person, should ideally be circular. But in order for this to be true, both individuals must be willing to contribute. I really liked how Peacock pointed out how the letters in Komunyakaa's poem are not circular. Because of past events, the wife has decided to break the comforting image of the circle, because it came too close and was beginning to choke her. She has left, and now all that remains is a man and his son, sending out letters which will never be answered.
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10. Peacock's Chapter Ten // Peacock's profound, poignant points Anne
I found Peacock's chapter about the father poems very helpful because it gave her interpretations of the poems and also provided little nuggets of wisdom. She writes: "Poetry, after all, is responsible for articulation, no matter how small or opaque or ephemeral the articulated thing is" (Peacock, Chapter 10, pg. 132).
After the first line about articulation, I wrote in my book, "but I am not good at articulation." I think that is why I read poems because the writers seem to articulate my inner thoughts. However, I am not giving myself enough credit. Peacock did write "no matter how small or opaque," so basically, any attempt we make at writing poetry, at articulating our inner voices, at fumbling for words ....all of this is valid.
I really liked what Peacock wrote about culture and poetry: "I would go so far as to say that it [poetry] articulates culture itself--provided we know a culture by the rhythms of its details" (Peacock, Chapter 10, pg. 132). I agree with Peacock that poetry does represent our culture, for our culture is in the details of everyday life. I just think her statement is profound.
Lastly, what I found particularly beautiful is what Peacock wrote about the parent-child relationships. "Parent-child relationships, whatever the attempts to sever them, endure forever, surely past the death of the parent, who lives on, ingested, inside the child, as the child was once contained in that parent's zygote" (Peacock, Chapter 10, pg. 139).
These are comforting words to me, and yet I think they may stand in contrast to Komunyakaa's poem where the boy and his mother do not have a relationship any more. Do they still have a bond? The image of the parent living inside the child is a wonderful parallel to the child growing up in a parent's womb. We are always connected to the ones we love.
"There is more to life than increasing its speed." ~Gandhi
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2 Peacock -- Meade, Thomas, Solomon // From the Warrior Poets to the Poets at War John
(disclaimer: this is a journal in its true sense in that I needed to rant a little, I am not sure if it is useable for the email posts but at least you can see what I am thinking about)
From the Warrior Poets to the Poets at War
the ranting of a new artist
One of the most over used and warn out clichés is that of the artist at war with himself. It is an image that a 20 year old man (some may say the very man that writes this to you) has a difficult time forgetting. Why is it that an artist must struggle with art. I of course must point out that a cliché would not be a cliché if it didn't hold truth. Some of the greatest moments in my life come when I shut out the world around me and I start to work on my music or my poetry. Sometimes I can feel it inside me and I know that I have to shut myself off to find it. Rilke may say that I have to seek solitude, while I on the other hand would not even feel the need to point it out. I can never be at one with my art unless I can truly roll up my sleeves and struggle with it. This requires me to seek out that battle between me and my art that I hold so dear. Herein lies my thought upon these poems.
When is the struggle a cliché and when is a struggle the truth? I have spent a lot of time the past few weeks dealing with the problem of when I should quit saying I am a student and start saying that I am a musician, a singer songwriter in fact. The words feel clumsy coming out of my mouth because it is only recently that I have decided to put everything aside and embrace my art. What that means for me of course is that I am now looking at college in a whole new way. No longer is it anything that holds me. It is merely the thing I am doing in my free time. I feel liberated now. Dylan Thomas, brother of mine, I hear your voice in my soul saying
"I labor by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart." (Thomas, "In My Craft or Sullen Art")
And I can answer you saying sing on, sing on! Amergin can stand and command the waves with his art, why can't I? I am told it is a near impossible dream to make anything of my art, well I say I too am "Climber through the Needles Eye," (Michael Meade "Amergin and Cessair") This of course is where I draw the knowing looks and the comments from professors such as "I know, I was there once too," or "I can see the same starry eyed look I once had," in their best patronizing voice dripping with unspoken "you'll grow out of it." They see the cliché and I see the warrior poet battling my modern enemies. Which might just be myself and my paranoid delusions that my professors are out to get me. I must wonder if Dylan Thomas ever had to deal with the same knowing smiles and half hidden snickers. Of course if he did those people would now be running to the nearest tabloid to say I knew him when. So get to know me now so you can make a buck or two in the following years.
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Peacock // How to kill a poem Adam
Molly Peacock is performing surgery on perfectly healthy people, namely -- poems. To extrapolate on her bodily symbolism for poetry, she is carving into the guts with a hack saw and a wrench. Upon removing an organ, she dupes herself into thinking she understands its function, and that it functions just as well out of context. The amputated limbs are playing frisbee in the hospital halls and harrassing the nurses - or so she believes. For instance, she writes, "the line is like a skeletal system, the sentence is like a circulatory system, and the image is like a central nervous system. That's all." That's all!!!??? Well aren't you a genius. It is ludicrous to think poetry could be summed up into one image. I could say (and I think this is closer to the truth) that poetry is the animal talking through the layers. But, this is also just one image. Poetry is not to be defined, but only to help us define ourselves. Which, by the way, Peacock acknowledges, "poems...are about defining a self." She also contradicts a statement she made earlier, which I agree with. "Poetry was becoming my religion," she writes. Religion, coming from the base ligare, to bind and connect, means that poetry is a connector. Poetry is a place to tie your being together, not a lab rat to be dissected. Poetry only lives in relation to the reader, it has no life outside of a human context. Its anatomy (if there is such a thing) completes itself through the human mind (and to get sappy) the human heart. Those are my thoughts. I am dissappointed that she is pulling the wings off of poems, despite her supposed hatred of such a practice.
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Stephanie
Resonating Essence
Molly Peacock’s book, How to Read a Poem...and Start a Poetry Circle, enticed me with its refreshing, rather simplistic ways of viewing poetry. Simply the way she took apart and explained her own history with poetry was intriguing although quite personal. She highlighted key parts in developing a passion for poetry, especially through schooling. So typically does poetry get shoved aside in grade school and even high school and many students are left with horror stories after college professors tried to teach them poetry that it is not surprising a great number of people are turned off by poetry. Academics does not promote creativity for the most part -- it serves to teach people to think logically and realistically, teaches them to turn things in on time and to be responsible, and to turn the childlike voice off inside of themselves. I thought Peacock’s description of her college professor was quite unique as she said he "...had the sense to leave poems whole even as he investigated them. He was like a marvelous, magnetic, intense field biologist, capturing, examining -- but never interfering. With consummate kindness he left me on my own, smiling at whatever specimens I brought to him" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, 9). To have that type of an effect on someone, or even to be a recipient of it, in my belief, is quite rare.
Another part of Peacock’s writing that tickled me was her breakdown of poetry into three simple parts, and further, the relationship between the three. I especially enjoyed how through these three devices, she made poetry a sensual experience: "Even though a poem is made with words, it is only one-third a verbal act. It is equally an auditory and a visual art, which we take into our bodies as well as our minds" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, 20). To me, this defines poetry quite accurately and captures the way human nature functions because there are always many things going on at once all around us and Peacock summarizes how poetry contains this spirit.
As a brief note, I thought that the following quote by Peacock described our last discussion about the struggle between "Id," "Ego," and "Superego": "If the line is a way a child apprehends, intuitively, and the sentence is the way an adult apprehends, intellectually, then the image functions as a two-way mirror between these states of understanding" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, 21).
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Peocock, Eskimo // "when words were like magic" Rachel
ah. the challenge again... to create on this screen the spiritual experience of
reading. Knowing that you'll all read this, knowing that this isn't REALLY my
journal, but something more like a mini-essay, makes the words come slowly. I stare
at the screen not wanting to commit to any one thought, any idea, because there are so
many. Perhaps this is the feeling of ambiguity that Peacock talks about:
"the experiencing of many thoughts and feelings at the same time - a state that
may be the very definition of adulthood." When I read this passage the first
time I mis-read the word 'adulthood' and thought it said 'childhood', and the meaning of
the passage seemed much different. Instead of the dwelling in mixed-meanings and
mazes of images and levels of meaning as my adult mind revels in, I see a child's mind
experiencing many thoughts and feelings she isn't even aware of. I see a child's
first experiences with art and poetic language, and I remember my own experiences.
I remember feeling drawn to certain authors, to pictures in books; I would sit
and stare at them for hours, imagining I was in the paintings. There were so many
feelings, yearnings, thoughts, spinning around in my head and in my whole being that I
wasn't aware of... perhaps because they were so deep and so real. At the end of our
last class I left the room with a similar thought; I was thinking about how impossible it
is to know myself now for I spend my whole life reinterpreting my past through the light
of experience and learning. The more I learn about love and experience love, the
more I understand my relationships in the past. Our childhood is like the book
written in a foreign language and the locked trunk which Rilke talks about, only one which
we are constantly unlocking. It seems that our more recent experiences, the moments
of experience which are decending upon us even now, are moments of feeling rather than
understanding. To bring us back to Peacock, "you can feel a poem without really
understanding it." This is our lives, little moments of poetry, moments of
feeling that maybe, someday, we interpret and understand. "Poetry is the art
that offers depth in a moment, using the depth of a moment." This is one
of my great loves of poetry, that poetry captures one moment, and yet all moments can
exist within a single poem.
I want to comment briefly on the poem MAGIC WORDS from Rag and Bone Shop... Immediately
Rilke's words about our incapacity to forget the old myths of dragons turning into
princesses at the last minute come to mind. There are layers upon layers of these
myths and stories full of gnomes, fairies, witches, ghosts, demons, enchanted animals, and
giant bean stalks which, though we profess to be beyond belief in these
"stories", effect the way we live our lives. these stories are part of us,
part of our society and our psyche. "That was a time when words were
like magic" When speaking led to existing. And why are words not
so powerful today? Perhaps it wasn't the the words changed, or even the time, but that we
stopped believing in their power, their passion. Yeats gave me the idea that
yesterday's spells are today's poems and prayers. We still believe that words are
powerful, but not in the same way. If I damned you to hell, no one believes my words
have the power to actually send you there... but in biblical times it was a different
story. Yeats wondered where the magic went, all the occult religions that were
repressed by Christianity and Judaism, certainly the spells did not disappear?
Poetry is today's magic. "Nobody can explain this:/ That's the
way it was."
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Peacock, Thomas, Shakespeare // The Poem: The Perfect Balance Between Companionship and Solitude Jeff
Our class discussion yesterday consisted of many paradoxes: solitude vs. companionship, innocence vs. the wisdom of old age, and Freud’s view of the id as the dark side vs. Yung’s view of the id as the light side, etc. Even though these paradoxes are conflicting and they tend to stir some heated arguments, Fr. Mark addressed that these paradoxes are OK. Sersch--I’m sure you were happy because here is a new way to look at settling these conflicts and making peace with these topics. Instead of trying to resolve the conflicts with one correct answer, we should be able to accept the paradox and find a balance between both of the sides. Where am I going with this you might ask. When I think about poetry, I tend to think of a person reading in solitude in a quiet and dark room. But then I also think about Poetry Slams where poets competitively read their poems in front of an audience. Poetry is the perfect medium that bridges the wide gap between the paradox of solitude and companionship in our world today!
I came to this realization after reading the first two chapters of Molly Peacock’s How to Read a Poem…and Start a Poetry Circle. First, Molly addresses the power of solitude in poetry: "…reading poetry gives you a kind of internal message. Your organs readjust, they re-relate to one another, as you become aware of a new thought or a new feeling or more likely, of something you, too, have thought and felt all along" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem…and Start a Poetry Circle, p. 14). Second, Molly addresses the power of companionship in poetry through poetry circles. I smiled when I imagined this image of Molly and her friend Georgianna Orsini "climb[ing] into [their] jammies by SIX P.M. to read poems out loud while cooking dinner" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem…and Start a Poetry Circle, p. 16). Poetry has many things to teach me. It not only will connect me to a new form of solitude, but also deeper feelings of companionship with those around me.
"I labor by singing light / Not for ambition or bread … But for the common wages / Of their secret heart … But for the lovers, their arms / Round the griefs of ages,…" (Thomas, "In My Craft or Sullen Art," in Rag and Bone, p. 167). I might be misinterpreting "In My Craft or Sullen Art," but I’m picturing Dylan Thomas writing to soothe the lovers’ hearts in order to heal the lovers’ outside griefs. I think this concept is neat: healing the inside in order to heal the outside. One must first heal the inside heart and body before one begins to heal the outside griefs of this troubled world we live in. A poet, who most likely has a special connection with solitude and the inner realm of the soul, must then have the key to solving the world’s griefs. The poet’s words alone will touch our hearts and heal us in ways that food or water cannot. Is it possible then to solve world hunger through poetry?
Again, I see this same concept of strengthening the inner self in Shakespeare’s poem. "Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, / But sad mortality o’er-sways their power, / How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower?" (Shakespeare, "Sonnet LXV," in Rag and Bone, p. 176). Too often in this world, we think that by healing the outside of our bodies, we will heal the inside body. By being thin, or having muscles we strive for beauty. However, no matter how much iron we pump, if the inside of our bodies is not strong, the appearance of our outside bodies is insignificant. I’m not saying that lifting weights is bad. I’m just suggesting that if one is going to lift an iron bar, I’m sure that person can also try to lift that weak little flower growing inside ourselves to the light.
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Peacock, Thomas, Eskimo // Unknown Human Emotion Scott
Unknown Human Emotion
I have spent countless hours pondering these questions: Why does God allow pain in the world? Why are we able to feel lonely, hurt, and abandoned? Unfortunately, I have no concrete answers. But I do know where to search for better understanding. Molly Peacock does too: "To learn about something hair-trigged and complex, complete with its own structures and therefore its own ways of knowing and conveying, is to illumine the paths of existence itself. Communing with these poems collected over years, each continuing to exhibit vitality as I look at its body...with greater consciousness and greater regard, fires in me a respect for the conscious act of living" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 11). Art allows me to connect with people who appear much different than myself. After all, on the surface, I have little in common with Toni Morrison, Ralph Ellison, and Langston Hughes. These people live (or lived) in a world much different than my own. Or do (did) they? If we listen carefully to the words of Molly Peacock, we may have found a new way to understand our existence. It is called poetry. Perhaps if I read the great poets of the world I can come to grips with my unknown human emotion. Perhaps I will find that much of human existence is the same. We all must eat, breathe, and die. And we all must suffer. I can think of no other form of expression that communicates the pain (and joy!) of life than art. That is why I took this course, and that is why I can admire Peacock's work: She has found a way to explore the many questions of the world. Through her shared passion for poetry, I realized that more is on included in a poem than I ever suspected. I too have looked at poetry and not understood what I was reading. Or, as Peacock writes, "Sometimes I feel we are restoring those wings torn from poems by bullies with low tolerance for ambiguity - the bullies perhaps we ourselves once were" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 17). I was once a bully (or perhaps I still am). But I do not want to be a bully anymore. I want to feel the words!
I enjoy the way Peacock explains the foundation of a poem: "Poetry is really the fusion of three arts: music, storytelling, and painting. The line displays the poem's music, the sentence displays its thoughts, and the image displays the vision of the poet" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 19). After reading this, I looked at one of Peacock's talismans, "Let Evening Come," by Jane Kenyon (on page 25). I really felt I could grasp the content better. It paints a beautiful picture with words, but it also contains thoughts (a message) and music as well. I do not know whether Peacock's foundation will work for all poems, but it really does seem like something worth remembering. Poetry is difficult to explain to someone else, but I think every poem has a unique sound, story, and visual. Not only that, each reader can enjoy his or her own interpretation. That said, I can see why Peacock enjoys returning to her favorite poems again and again. A fresh reading has a new sound and a new visual. Meanwhile, the story is given a new explanation.
Rag and Bone
The poem by Dylan Thomas is fascinating.
(Thomas, "In My Craft or Sullen Art," in Rag and Bone, p. 167)And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labor by singing lightNot for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
For one thing, it has great music. Thomas seems to say that his labor can connect with a heart better than a physical presence can. The "lovers lie abed / With all their griefs in their arms" -- notice that lovers (most likely embracing) hold "grief" in their arms; but Thomas wants no money or fame, merely the "secret heart" of his audience (Thomas, "In My Craft or Sullen Art"). I also find it interesting that Thomas works while lovers lie. Poetry has left him alone at night, but he absolutely must share his art with others -- that is how he can connect with lovers best. Hopefully this poem will come up in class tomorrow, as I'm interested to see what everyone else took from Thomas' work.
The poem entitled "Magic Words" grabbed me immediately. It reminded me of Peacock's book, where she writes, "Each time any of us reads a favorite poem, it conjures a special sorcery of second sight, and third, and fourth, until understanding is so profound that we are returned to a state before we even had language - a prelinguistic place (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 3). (Yes, that excerpt also appeared in the Great Poets course description.) The author, Eskimo, seems to convey a similar message, this time about a group of magic words: "Sometimes they were people / and sometimes animals / and there was no difference. / All spoke the same language" (Eskimo, "Magic Words," (in Rag and Bone, p 160). Peacock must feel that Eskimo is talking about poetry. Maybe he is. Maybe he is not. All I know is that Eskimo writes well.
"Easy writing makes bad reading" - Ernest Hemingway
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Peacock, Stevens, Orpingalik // Cruelty to poems? Kevin
The first chapter in Peacock's How to Read a Poem introduced a paradox (theres that word again) that i have often wrestled with over the course of my studies; whether it is best to take any selection or piece of art and analyze it till you find the hidden meanings and the structure and why it works, or just leave it be and apperciate it for what it is. She writes "Inadvertantly i had become the bully who tears the wings from butterflies. I would rather not understand than kill a poem, I resolved right then." (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, 6) By dissecting the poems she sought to emmulate, she had sucked all the emotions out of them. As i was reading on page three about talismans, i noticed right away Peacock was using personification to describe poems, and yet i was missing some of the meaning. Peacock too seems caught in the paradox, she wrote five pages later about how, "Communing with these poems..., each contiunuing to exhibit vitality as i look at its body-its nervous system, skeletal system, circulatory system." (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, 11) Furthermore, the whole second chapter deals with breaking down elements of poems. When looking at a piece of art we are faced with a choice; we can experience it and know it triggers somekind of emotion within us, or we can delve into what the artist did in hopes of setting off that emotion. We can look at a still life and see a cool bowl of fruit, and we can witness the use of shadown and light and the interplay between textures used to draw our focus.
What is the solution? I dont know. As with most things dealing with art and personal expression, it is subjective. The best solution seems to be to look for the middle ground. Everything in moderation. If we can read a poem and be deeply moved, while at the same time catch noticing the beautiful use of alliteration, we seem to get the full benefit. We might miss a few historical references along the way, or perhaps lose that initial weepy feeling we had, but we will get the best of both worlds.
"Poetry is the art of letting your primordial word resound through the common word." - Gerhart Hauptman. (found on page 182)
Who is better; Dr Spock or Homer Simpson? On the one hand, Spock is the epitome of a logical thinker, whereas Homer ia at the mercy of his many whims. Using what we discussed in class the other day, Freud believed that the rational thinker, the person that uses his or her super ego, is superior. meanwhile Jung stated that impulse actions were completely neccessary and good. In his poem, Poetry is a Destructive Force, Stevens attacks the idea that emotions are good. He compares emotions to savage beasts. "He tastes its blood, not spit" (Stevens, Poetry is a Destructive Force, 166) Blood, from the heart, the center of emotions. Spit, from the mouth, the tool of the mind. Stevens goes so far as to say that impulse and non-logical actions can kill.
Orpingalik, by contrast, believes that emotions are the inspiration for great thoughts, not their downfall. "Songs are thoughts, sung out with the breath when people are moved by great forces and ordinary speech no longer suffices." (Orpingalik, Songs are Thoughts) The song occurs when a person is awash with thoughts, and at the same time filled with great emotion. It is a very positive thing, perhaps the most postive of all.
Once again, it is my humble opinion that the best solution is found in moderation. We need to take into account our own thoughts and our own instincts and emotions, then we can make a solid decision.
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Peacock, Stafford, Meade // Virgin Eyes Tim
Initially I was cautious to consider entering the mysterious world of poetry in an environment where my ability and work would be quantified and turned into a grade. It was intimidating to me to study poems that I will never wholly understand. There is one terrific characteristic of poetry--it's very friendly. Peacock captures this and more in a beautiful paragraph:
I found grown-up poetry to be as spongy as a forest floor --your foot sinks into the pine needles, the air smells mushroomy and dank, and filtered light swirls around you till you're deep in another state. Since the tobacco-and-violet-scented Balmy announced that no one's opinion about verse was ever wrong, I gleefully entered the woods of interpretation. It was all right to be lost. (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p.8).
This makes poems sound dreamy and innately organic. Not only that, she says poems let you feel what you wish, like you add your own creativity to anothers. Peacock goes deeper in describing a reader's connection to poetry, "When we discover poems, they seem to rediscover us." (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p.7). How exciting, poems don't discover us, they rediscover us because they already know us. I am now thoroughly excited to get inside some poems.
I found a connection with William Staffords writing. One section in particular reminded me of a familiar activity. (About a writer and new things) "That is, he does not draw on a reservoir; instead, he engages in an activity that brings to him a whole succession of unforeseen stories, poems, essays, plays, laws, philosophies, religions, or--but wait!"
(Stafford, "On the Writing of Poetry," in Rag and Bone, p. 181). This sentence reminds me of one of my favorite activities. With a few good friends, I like to engage in a sort of pseudo-philosophy in which the goal is for the game not to end and a move is finding something clever that builds on what was previously said. Of course this game is not strict in its rules, it's more like a highly touted (by me) B.S. session. Still, it's when I find myself in a creative state that I don't otherwise experience very often.Another poem spoke to me, but not because I saw my life in it, but for its strong words and its beautiful imagery. Amergin and Cessair impressed me in a special way as I watched the lines, "I am dewdrop, a tear of the sun. I am a lily on a still pond. I am the son of harmony. I am a word of skill. I am the silence of things secret."
(Meade and Meade, "Amergin and Cessair," in Rag and Bone, p. 171-173). My first reaction to this poem was that it reminded me of two children one-upping each other it seemed so imaginative. The explanation at the conclusion of how Amergin and Cessair are dueling poets is awesome. For me this poem carried a mythical quality that drew me to reread the poem at least ten times just tonight.
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Peacock, Stafford, Francis // Is There Freedom in Technique? Anne
The beginning of Molly Peacock's (what a neat name!) book speaks volumes to me. "Sometimes I think we are attracted to a poem because it makes us feel as if someone is listening to us . . . the voice of the poem allows us to hear ourselves" (Peacock, 4). First of all, this line stands out because we just read a chapter about the difference between hearing and listening in my comm. public speaking. I try really hard to listen to what people are saying, but I know I need to improve my listening skills in conversation. Listening is waning into a lost art, but it is also a skill that can be learned or practiced. Peacock is hitting on a basic human need. I think we as humans all have a desire to be heard and actually listened to. It deals with our self-worth. With one's voice there is power, and when a person is not listened to or even recognized, there is a sense of powerlessness. A good example is the whole discussion of the academic calendar and J-term. Many students attended the faculty assembly meeting today because they felt their voices/opinions were not being heard or recognized.
"Certain poems allow you to feel what you mean, even though you cannot dare to say what that is yourself" (Peacock, 4). I cannot even count the number of times I have read the lyrics of a song or poem and have just been amazed at how those lines articulate what I am feeling. After reading a particular profound line or quote, I ask myself, "now why in the world couldn't I have written or thought of that?" Music/poems create safe forums where the deepest secrets of the heart are allowed to reveal themselves.
I really like William Stafford's open and relaxed approach to writing, it seems very freeing. Every day he gets up before anyone else and writes, letting all thoughts flow. He is patient, nothing is forced. "I get pen and paper, take a glance out of the window (often it is dark out there), and wait" (Stamford, Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart, p.181).
Sometimes I find myself tense and worried when writing a paper or newspaper article. I cannot seem to find an angle/thesis, let alone the words to express these things. Instead of relaxing and waiting for inspiration, I often feel frustrated and stop. Stafford writes: "To get started I will accept anything that occurs to me. Something always occurs, of course, to any of us" (Stamford, Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart, p.181). Our thoughts are always present, it is just whether we listen to them or not. I may have pre-conceived notions of what the paper has to entail or what I think the professor expects, so instead of being open to any thoughts or ideas, I restrict myself. I find that my best writing occurs when I first free-write and jot down ideas freely. Sometimes I may have pages filled with ideas and thoughts. The hard part is discovering and thinking about how they fit together. Stamford offers this advice: "These things, odd or trivial as they may be, are somehow connected. And if I let them string out, surprising things will happen (181)."
Lastly, Robert Francis's poem is a wonderful analogy of the relationship between writer (pitcher) and reader (reader). In contrast to Stafford, the writer (pitcher) in this poem seems to have a specific game plan in mind. I do not feel a lot of creative freedom for the rider in this poem. While the author does not want to reader to fully understand the poem, the writer is deliberate in his/her actions and precise in his/her purpose. "His art is eccentricity, his aim
How not to hit the mark he seems to aim at,
His passion how to avoid the obvious,
His technique how to vary the avoidance." (Francis, Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart, 187).
Like Stafford, the author has developed a "process" in his/her creative attempts. However, in Francis's poem, I do not feel the same sense of freedom and joy that I felt in Stanford's essay. I'm not sure why .......
"Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go." TBS. Eliot
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Peacock, Orpingalik, Stafford//The Living Poem Ryan
The Epic Struggle
"...such sounds, in effect, are emotions in themselves" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 20). Reading Peacock's book really opened my eyes to new ways to read poetry. Although I have often heard about how certain sounds and rhythms together can create something of a musical flair, I have never noticed it myself. In my Shakespeare class today, we broke down some of the speeches in Richard III and studied the beat, meter and insightful genius that Shakespeare infused into every line. This was further illustrated in the Jane Kenyon poem Peacock explores in Chapter three (I read ahead). The choosing of certain words and the masterful use of those words in the correct places weaves a sort of tapestry to which the reader may stare and view the entire picture, but not even notice the intricate patterns and interplay between independent threads that hold the tapestry together.
"...it is a comfort to know that the basic colors of the world fit into a Crayola box..." (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 22). In reading Peacock's examples, and the selection poems from The Rag and Bone Shop, common, recurring themes kept popping up. Solitude, companionship, love, death, mortality, and creative inspiration are common, but the way the poet presents the reader with the material using the same tools (words, rhythms, etc.) can produce radically different poems in terms of tone, content, beat and other literary tricks. The language is like so much clay in the poet's hands; from the clay may spring a magnificent vase, intricate sculpture, or simple cup. The tools are the same, but the end products are radically different.
A recurring theme I am very intrigued with is that of the living poem. Poetry, it seems, is less a creative process of a poet creating a poem, but that of a poem creating and welling forth from the poet. The poet is a vessel, a hapless, lucky creature blessed with an embryo of inspiration which grows inside the poet until it has no more use for its vessel and actively claws its way out through the poet's mind into the world. "But it will happen that the words we need will come of themselves" (Orpingalik, "Songs are Thoughts" in The Rag and Bone Shop p. 162). This active, passionate relationship between the poet and the poem seems almost mystical, an experience that cannot be explained except thought the deepest reaches of the human soul. This seeming helplessness of the poet, an artist by circumstance, borne with a precious creature that must be let out, but with which the poet has a parental relationship with. Incredible. This relationship is further exemplified in the writing by William Stafford entitled On the Writing of Poetry, "If I put down something, that thing will help the next thing come, and I'm off." (Rag and Bone Shop p. 181). Again, the poem is viewed as a "thing" with a life and will of its own. The writing of a poem is a process that once the writer begins, must be followed through to the end. The idea of the "life" of a poem is such an incredible, profound idea, much beyond the world of words. It is like a metaphor involving an animal, only a mythical animal, a dragon, a purely fictional creature beyond the realm of reality can describe. Such is a poem. An experience so beyond the rules of language, that it creates a language for us to use to understand it.
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Peacock, Eskimo, Thomas // The Voices Joanna
The Voices
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Peacock, Eskimo, Stafford// Magical Layers Kate
"A word spoken by chance / might have strange consequences. / It would suddenly come alive . . . " (Eskimo, Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart, p. 160). These lines seem to describe some of the magic of poetry, the ability to mix words in just the right combination to make an idea or an image stick out more clearly than in any other way. This is similar to Stafford's description of writing, which he says is "a process that will bring about new things [the author] would not have thought of if he started to say them" (Stafford, Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart, p. 181). Stafford describes how he begins to write about anything, however small and unimportant, and then sees what wonderful, surprising things develop from it. The authors of these two works have found the magic of words through poetry--the exciting, unpredictable revelations that can come from the writing and reading of it. It is also interesting that the Eskimo poem speaks of this magic coming when humans and animals are connected. These moments of revelation, when words come alive in poetry, do seem moments when the reader and the writer have a deeper understanding and connection to the world around them.
Peacock talks about loving the poems that strike her but which she might not undertand right away. "This toughness of resistance to meaning," she says, "feels as if the poem had an inpenetrable rind--yet how the poem glows!" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 5). Ambivalence is important in poetry, it seems, as the pitcher in Robert Francis' poem also aimed for slightly off the mark. Amibivalence adds to poetry's richness, to the layers of rind. If the poem is not understood right away, it will be thought about and reconsidered many times. Each time, a new layer can be discovered. This richness helps the meaning and importance of the poem to keep changing with the reader. Francis' pitcher throws to be "a moment misunderstood" (Francis, Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart, p. 187). At first, I wondered why an author would strive for this moment of confusion, what misunderstanding could do for the reader. I realized that it allows the reader to make the poem his/her own. The moment of confusion, when the rind is inpenetrable, is the time when the reader has to work to find his/her personal connection and understanding of the poem. I think this is what Peacock is referring to when she says "the voice of the poem allows us to hear ourselves" (Peacock, p. 4).
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Peacock, Eskimo, Stafford // Random Thoughts Jen
"When we talk about the body of a poem- its anatomy-the line is like a skeletal system, the sentence is like a circulatory system, and the image is like a central nervous system. That’s all" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 19). "That’s all." What? A poem is more than that. It’s greater than the sum of the words included, its structure and the images it uses and creates. In fact, it is like stretching for a small piece of heaven, or some greater knowledge and then carefully manipulating it safely on to a waiting piece of paper. A poem is a piece of a soul, an individual spirit. I have always held off from writing poetry because I have never felt that I could do it justice. I will leave it to people greater than I to bring a piece of heaven to the world on paper. I, on the other hand, will focus on the relationships in my life… and enjoy the poetry that you create.
"Sometimes I think we are attracted to a poem because it makes us feel as if someone is listening to us. This may seem like a strange reversal, because we are supposed to be listening to it, but the voice of the poem allows us to hear ourselves" (Peacock, How to Read a Poem, p. 4). I think the poems she describes are some of the most wonderful to read. These are poems that speak back to you as your reading them, seeming to help you to formulate your thoughts and emotions on the page as it slips through your mind. I’ve often paged through books of famous quotes and books of poetry collections, searching for one thought or idea that best describes my emotions at the time. (Of course, this is not a very efficient way of expressing oneself, but whatever works, right?) It has only worked a few times, but in those times I have been able to give a sigh of relief as I carefully copy the lines or line on to my own paper, which immediately transferred to my pocket for safe keeping.
"Sometimes they were people and sometimes animals and there was no difference. All spoke the same language" (Eskimo, Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart, p. 160). I love this line of this poem because the connection between humans and animals is so beautifully stated. The words seem somehow… peaceful and calming. In the world of this poem, everyone is understood, everyone is united. As a lover of nature, it amazes me that people still struggle to set humanity apart, when I can wander in the woods and find absolute peace or sit beside a lake and meditate to the sound of quietly sloshing waves. Besides, haven’t you ever closed your eyes and wished with all of your heart that you could become a bird? It must be a wonderful view.
"A writer is not so much someone who has something to say as he is someone who has found a process that will bring about new things he would not have thought of if he had started to say them" (Stafford, Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart, p.181). I am forever reaching the end of an important paper and coming to the realization that my exploration into the subject has just begun. This usually means that I scrap the entire thing and start fresh, with new knowledge and a new direction. This is a wonderful thing… except when one exists in a world of deadlines and time limits. I don’t think one every really understands an opinion or an expression until he or she puts it down on paper, rolling the idea over and over in his or her mind, until the thought becomes clear as crystal. I don’t think I have ever had a thought as clear as crystal, but I can only assume that, if my writing process were to continue indefinitely, I would come to the meaning of life. Yes, my tangents can be that broad.
J I found a connection with Stafford, who seems to admire this process that I have always found a slight struggle. Especially when teachers ask for a thesis statement before the completion of a paper. How rude!******************