From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Wednesday, February 02, 2000 12:36 AM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 1 Rilke // The Artists' Experience
The Artist's Experience
The letters written to Franz Kappus by Rainer Maria Rilke speak not only to the budding young poet they were addressed to, but to all artists who seek inspiration. Rilke possess a profound understanding of people and life which he stresses can only be understood and written about through experience.
One way Rilke suggests that to understand the eternal and immutable, one must be patient and seek out the answers in one's surroundings. "One gradually begins to recognize the very few things in which eternity dwells, which one can love, and solitude, of which one can softly partake" (Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet, p.47). This seeking, actively searching out the "very few things" comes only to those with the patience and perseverance to search. Each experience must draw one closer to the reality of the world. I find this idea very exciting, an adventure for reality in which all the pieces are always around us, but it isn't a matter of where we search, but how we search. A very interesting concept, but frustrating to understand.
As mentioned earlier, one must be observant to find the "very few things." Rilke says, "... it is so important to be alone and observant when one is sad" (Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet, p. 79). This special attention given to the self is also an interesting concept of how people change, and thus changes how they view their environment. Emotions are very powerful, and sadness is the emotion that often changes people the most. I agree that almost all sadness changes us, and sometimes people don't recognize how much they are changed by sadness. Although I believe that poetry is more than emotions on paper, I think that for a poem to be effective, it must invoke some sort of emotional response in the author and the reader. A poem should be difficult to write, an extension of the poet, and a poet must feel an emotional loss when a poem is written. Therefore, a good poet must have a true and deep understand of emotions, especially their own.
"Works of art can be described as having an essence of eternal solitude and an understanding is attainable least of all by critique" (Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet, p. 25). When I first read this line, I really didn't agree with it. After reading it a couple more times though, I agree more and more with its message. If a poem is an intensely emotional relationship between poem and poet, and each person through their own experiences and backgrounds will experience the poem differently, who then has the right to judge a poem? It seems to me that people may dislike a poem, or believe that the poem didn't "speak" to them, but does that mean it is a bad poem? Not necessarily. I don't think that emotions are invoked by poetry as much as the people reading the poem assign their emotions to the work. Therefore, a poem that doesn't evoke emotions from one person may not mean it is a poor poem, but may mean instead the reader was unable or unwilling to fully connect himself or herself emotionally with the poem. I think the thrust of Rilke's advice of diverse and observant to experiences equips the poet to write poems that many members of their audience will be able to relate to, and at the same time allow the poet to relate to other works and experiences in life.
Rilke passes a plethora of information to Franz Kappus that can be utilized for all creative spirits. His message is clear: experience is the key to great poetry.
-- Ryan Schultz
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Friday, May 12, 2000 9:45 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 26. Pushkin// Creator Devil
Duende. This poem screams Duende, creative demon. Although this poem is written in rhyme and meter, (alot must be lost in the translation) the singsong quality definately lends a strong twist to the poem. When I read this, I feel and immensity, like something great it occurring. Although entitled The Prophet, Pushkin never reveals the prophecy. Adding this twist gives the poem an unfinished sense and raises poets to the level of prophets and, furthermore, their poems to prophecy. "Make my word burn in the heart of man." Doesn't this seem to be the goal of poetry? To plant the seeds of revelation in the heart of the reader? The question that I think this poem begs is, is the prophecy good or bad? Due to the dark imagery of a reptile's fiery fang, ripped out my heart, and A coal of living fire his fingers placed/ Deep in my gaping side would suggest evil. On the other hand, the opening of the subjects ears and the understanding of the soundless growth of plant and tree, and finally conversing with God him/herself would suggest a friendly prophecy.
Although the imagery is somewhat contradictory, it is unimportant. Rilke, in his Letters to a Young Poet demand that a good poet experience ALL aspects of life before he/she write even a single line. Pushkin's poem speaks strongly of individual voice and poetry in general.
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Friday, May 12, 2000 9:20 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 25. Swir, Ch'ien-Wen//Future tense
Anna Swir's poem She Does Not Remember, is a touching poem about how people change. This poem strikes me as important because we are all changing. Personally, this poem has made me re-evaulate my grudges against others, and made me look at those who hold grudges against me. We all do things that we regret, but how long must we carry the yoke of remembrance? We are young-- we are foolish. We grow and mature-- we are still foolish. We grow old-- but nothing changes. The line that strikes me as most important in the poem is the final line, "She does not remember that she was evil./ But she knows/ that she feels cold." How long does it take for the scars to heal? When does compassion replace remembrance?
I see the same struggle in Emperor Ch'ien-Wen of Liang's poem Getting up in Winter. The figure in this poem is rising early to put on make up. Why the necessity to put on a mask so early? The action of painting over your face serves to deny what you really are, to try not to see or remember who you really are, to cover the wrinkles caused by time. The voice finally asks "Why is she making up so early" which strikes me as so very sad. The woman is caught in a routine to deny herself who she really is. "She wipes the dew off her mirror" is another instance where she has the choice to leave the dew on and understand that image is not important at all, but she gives in and wipe the mirror to see who she perceives herself to be. How sad.
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Monday, May 01, 2000 9:25 AM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 24. Merwin//People among People vs. Nonattachment
In the poems Utterance and For the Anniversary of my Death, both by W. S. Merwin, there exist a common theme of phantasmal forces and the mystical nature of the world in which he lives. Although Utterance focuses on the culminating sound of all the language that has ever been spoken, and For the Anniversary of my Death focuses on nonattachment of life, both poems use similar devices and imagery to focus the reader's attention.
"I have heard a king of whispered sighing
not far
like a night wind in pines or like the sea in the dark
the echo of everthing that has ever been spoken
still spinning its one syllable
between the earth and silence"
--From Utterance by W.S. Merwin
In: Book of Luminous Things by Ceslaw Milosz
Merwin's use of metaphors in this poem heightens the tension and understanding within the poem as the connections are strange, yet almost tangible. "Whispered sighing... like the sea or the echo of everything that has ever been spoken" is a metaphor which seems non sensical, yet appears very real. When the sound of a large crowd is far away, it seems small and insignificant like a sigh. Does Merwin seem distanced from the language of the world?
"Tireless traveler/ Like the beam of a lightless star" From For the Anniversary of my Death, this line provides another example in which Merwin uses strange metaphors to describe an indescribable energy. What is the star from which Merwin flees? Humanity? Language? Either way, there is an exodus, and Merwin is fleeing.
Although each poem covers different subject matter, both are similar in their metaphor uses and devices.
Ryan
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Wednesday, April 19, 2000 8:39 AM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: Kevin Sersch Ryan // Presentation 2 on Sexuality
Fr. Mark.
Hello. I don't know if anyone in my group has contacted you yet, but our second presentation will be on poetry and sexuality.
Kevin, Sersch and myself are in the group.
Thanks!!
Ryan Schultz
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2000 10:40 PM
To: Thamert, Mark; Castor, Rachel A
Subject: Castor//Lurking in the margins
why do we
hide behind
paper - souls lurking
in margins like birds
pretend not to notice me
though i know you do . . .
. . . i have to know.
hating ourselves
somewhere beneath
brazen pride,
exuberant.
-Rachel
The imagery you use to begin this poem is quite powerful as it illustrates the different masks people wear, but recognizes that they are thin and flimsy as paper. Formed as a question, it never comes to a conclusion, or even a question mark as instead a dash cuts the poem in two. The dash also serves as a visual cue, it serves as the "paper" which hides the rest of the poem. Behind the dash hides the birds that are lurking, a seeming contradiction. A bird that is unable to flit through branches because it is instead confined from its nature creates a feeling of tension and sadness.
Ending the poem the way you do adds to the tension within the poem. "Hating" and "exuberant" are two very strong words, and opposites. Although this conflict puzzled me at first, I think that it is rectified in that although the speaker hates themselves, he/she is exuberant that someone finally recognizes their true nature.
--Ryan
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Monday, April 03, 2000 9:14 AM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 21. Tamura//Present Tense
All I want is a verb/ But I can't find one anywhere.-
In this poem by Tamura, a common theme of inability of action is observed. The desire for a verb, a word that is an action, is immense. Earlier, the voice states that the "Bubble language....hollow adjectives and paltry begging adverbs" are not enough, cannot accurately describe the "Human House" in which he/she lives. The search is futile though, there is no action in this cruel world.
I'm through with a society built only of the past and future/I want the present tense-
Written in a time of natural disasters and imperialism, Tamura was probably sick of the planning and living for the future that was necessary. Tamura seems to be in touch with the truth that the only thing that exists is NOW, and now is the only time to live for. Unfortunately, he is unable to do anything as he is powerless without his verbs, or action.
I want the present tense-
Again, the desire to be happy now is overwhelming. It is interesting that Tamura writes in tenses rather than time itself. Writing in this case is a metaphor for life, but I wonder if it could mean his actual writing. Could this poem be about Tamura's struggle to write at this time? Another theme is possible that his entire culture is unable to write in the present tense because they feel they have nothing in the present.
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Sunday, April 02, 2000 11:34 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 20. Jeff, Anne, Jen and Tim//Nasrin Presentation//Character Reference
Great Job! Your presentation was both entertaining and informative. The group reading of the first poem, Character, was very effective as it made the struggle of the voice plural. This reading changed the dynamic of the poem by making the struggle universal and accessible to all people. Even the male voices had a role in the poem as it changed the struggle from uniquely female to the struggles of all who are oppressed by the gender roles forced upon them. When your group addressed the visual aspect of the poem and the conflict pulling the text toward the left margin.
The background you gave on the poet also assisted my interpretation of the poem. When I first read, "I'll cry till my heart's content somedeay/and then return" (Border, Vintage Book), I thought that the "return" was not very important. After learning about the rigid, oppressive from which Nasrin is from, the return became the center of the poem. The same goes for a line in the poem At the Back of Progress... as "This fellow gives out character references for people" became much more powerful after the presentation since it symbolizes the vicious circle the men in the society are caught in.
Again, great job on the presentation. Your approach was quite user-friendly and informative.
-Ryan
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Saturday, April 01, 2000 1:01 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 17. Great Poets Paper
Ryan Schultz
Great Poets
Surrealist Poet
The poetry of Paul Celan is filled with a dark intensity and surrealism that transcends the boundaries of modern language. Armed with this new language, Celan approaches the traumatic experience of the death of his parents due to the Holocaust by utilizing paradoxical metaphors and powerful juxtapositions in time and space. Language, sound and sight merge to give the reader no choice but to change their thoughts and perceptions, to view, only if for a moment, the world through the eyes of Celan.
The Holocaust had a profound impact on Celan, as both his mother and father died in concentration camps. CelanÆs struggle with the holocaust is a common theme in his poetry, and his anger toward God is apparent. In Alchemical, Celan mocks the blessing from God, and is angered at his ability to do nothing. The first word of the poem, silence, illustrates the frustration and pain of inability to stop the horror in the camps. Celan blames both himself and God for being silent, for the inability to do something, anything. This phrase is repeated later in the seventh stanza, and is followed by the image of Fingers, insubstantial as smoke. These fingers represent both the hands of the Jews that have been cruelly reduced to ash, and the hand of God, which have no power.
Burning and ash are recurrent themes in this poem. Charred hands and burnt names and grey ash is all that is left. In a mocking tone, Celan writes that there is so much ash to be blessed by the char-less, cinder-less God who did nothing. What good is the blessing now? The consumption of souls is likened to a holy war with land won for God. And the victims? Weightless, rings of souls. The use of the word weightless is another instance of nothingness, inability to be heard or to act. Weightless, though, has a double meaning; insubstantial. Celan views the destruction caused by the Holocaust as a sacrifice to God which who is unable to understand the horror the people are going through. This dichotomy makes the souls of those who perished as insignificant. It is also interesting to note that the souls rise in rings, as smoke rises in rings. The allusion to smoke and ash is obvious, but a ring also symbolizes marriage. Marriage is very powerful metaphor because the Jews are GodÆs chosen people and even referred to in Hosea as the wife of God. Through the metaphors and language in Alchemical, Celan introduces the reader to his world of blame and pain.
In Tenebrae, Celan further explores his anger and emotions toward God. This poem seeks revenge on God for the Holocaust by removing His power and raising the speaker above God. The poem opens with a threat: We are near, Lord,/near and at hand. This line sets the tone of the poem, the speaker is making his presence known. During the Holocaust, Jews felt that God ignored their sufferings, that God left them. Celan changes the attitude as he is now seeking out the God that killed his parents and ravaged his people. There is an obvious mocking tone as the word Lord is repeated, often sounding like a command. Accusations are made in the fourth stanza when blames that the blood is the blood that God shed. To this point, the poem seems to be a court case with God on the stand, and the Jews as the jury. A total reversal of power occurs in the third stanza when the speaker exclaims Pray, Lord,/ Pray to us,/ We are near. The voice, which had no power during the holocaust, is now screaming. God is found guilty and his sentence is the Holocaust. CelanÆs anger and emotional stress are poured forth in Tenebrae.
A common theme in CelanÆs poems is for emotions to take a physical state. I am the First speaks of pain and sadness made physical. The first line is enigmatic; how can someone look for his or her own eye? The result is a futile search for the blue, which is free like the sky, in a world where the blue cannot find itself. Drinking from the footprint in the second line, is a metaphor for remembering the past, taking in from the residue someone has left behind. What is left behind? A pearl. A pearl is a beautiful, priceless jewel formed layer by layer in an ugly oyster. This pearl also is connected to the eye in the first line, as both are white and round. Up to this point, the reader does not know what the pearl is. The reader is free to make any of the usual associations to a pearl, such as beauty, etc. Not until the fifth line does Celan reveal the shocking truth of the pearl, that it is the black hailstone of sadness. This is an example of Celan re-creating language to make an emotion physical. In the end, the white pearl is caught in a white handkerchief. The only thing that exists is the sterile, white bleached world devoid of feelings and emotions but sadness.
Utilizing and re-creating language to fit the world of emotions, Paul Celan wrote poems which caught the real sense of pain and the Holocaust. The poems Tenebrae, I am the First, and Alchemical, exemplify the unique style of CelanÆs writing. Filled with emotion and electricity, the poems make the emotional struggle real for the reader. Unfortunately, we are unable to view the truth in the poems as they are not presented in there original German. ôOnly in oneÆs mother tongue,ö Celan wrote, ôcan one express oneÆs own truth. In a foreign language, the poet liesö (McClatchy 209). We must live this lie.
Appendix:
Alchemical
Silence, cooked like gold, in
Charred
Hands.
Great, grey
Sisterly shape
Near like all that is lost:
All the names, all those
Names
Burnt with the rest. So much
Ash to be blessed. So much
Land won
Above
The weightless, so weightless
Rings
of souls.
Great, grey one. Cinder-
Less.
You, then
You with the pale
Bit-open bud,
You in the wine-flood.
(Us too, donÆt you think,
this clock dismissed?
Good,
Good, how your word died past us here.)
Silence, cooked like gold, in
Charred, charred
Hands.
Fingers, insubstantial as smoke. Like crests, crests of air
Around----
Great, grey one. Wake-
Less.
Re-
Gal one.
Tenebrae
We are near, Lord,
Near and at hand.
Handled already, Lord,
Clawed and clawing as though
The body of each of us
were your body, Lord.
Pray, Lord,
Pray to us,
We are near.
Wind awry we went there,
Went there to bend
Over hollow and ditch.
To be watered we went there, Lord.
It was blood, it was
What you shed, Lord.
It gleamed.
It cast you image into our eyes, Lord.
Our eyes and our mouths are so open and empty, Lord.
We have drunk, Lord.
The blood and the image that was in the blood, Lord.
Pray, Lord.
We are near.
I am the first
I am the first to drink of the blue that still looks for its eye.
I drink from your footprint and see:
You roll through my fingers, pearl, and you grow!
You grow, as do all the forgotten.
You roll: the black hailstone of sadness
Is caught by a kerchief turned white with waving goodbye.
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Wednesday, March 29, 2000 11:52 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 19. Neruda//Death Under Sail
Neruda's "Solo la Muerte" is one of the most powerful poems I have ever read. The mood and tone of the poem are at the same time tense and peaceful, fearful and hopeful. Some of the analogies and metaphors compare polar opposites, but do so in a way that creates harmony within the poem and between death and life. For example:
The face of death is green-
Incredible. Death is life. Life is death. Neruda seems to be looking directly into the face of death and sees new life. Deeply religious and understanding of the necessity of death. Hirsch claims that this poem is "filled with such black sounds," but it seems to me that Neruda is describing life (Hirsch, How to Read a Poem, 38). Life is necessary for death, and death for life, just as the two opposite sides of a coin are necessary for a coin to exist. Incredible and powerful insight.
And the look death gives is green-
Not only is death life, but even the shadow, the glance of death reminds us of how transient and precious life is. This is not a somber poem lamenting death, but a call to life. As Neruda calls in the second stanza, "Death is in the bones," he reminds the reader that life is a terminal illness. We are all dying, always. Everyday takes us one step closer to our death, so now is the time to live life.
Throughout this poem, Neruda uses images of flux and journey to describe death. Using these metaphors makes death a life in itself instead of an end. Somehow, this analogy works well with the other analogies of death as a sound with no source, a nothing that fills a sail, and a shoe without a foot. Death is a physical nothing. This contradiction is the best description of death I have ever come across. Neruda's way of approaching this mystery humankind has struggled with for thousands of years is phenomenal.
Ryan
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Wednesday, March 29, 2000 11:20 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: Poems
Sorry these are so late.
War poem
Nectar
Pollen
From the crimson bud
Rises as steam from a bog
Dances across
Prairie
Forest
On the wind of discontent
To descend as snow
On the corolla of man.
Family Poem
From many, One
Capillaries widen
Tendrils stretch
Curl
Twist
Fork
Converge
Grow into knots
Up up up
Thicker
Wider
Less complexity
Less proximity
Unable to absorb rain
Torn in new directions
But always up up up
Amber world makes
Emerald wound In sapphire
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Thursday, March 16, 2000 5:20 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 18. Celan // The Fugue Plays on...
As the title often sets the tone of the poem and can reveal much information, it is important to know what a fugue is. A fugue is a style of classical music in which a common theme is repeated and slightly added upon and changed. The result is a very complex piece of music the evolves over time. The metaphor of this poem is a fugue is readily apparent with the repetition of drinking and black milk. Repetition is a powerful tool that can push a point and create incredible amounts of tension. After reading this poem, the reader can begin to associate with the cycle of terror and repetition and sense of no escape to be found in a concentration camp. The repetition of the drinking almost makes the reader sick, compelling more and more drinking, being out of control and unable to stop. Helpless.
he-
Male. "The Man." Power and oppression. Although this could be Hitler, it could also be any officer in a concentration camp. These officers must have been like evil gods to the Jews, able to allow life to live or die on a whim. The names of these people are not important. No names are important in this poem. Either you live or die, you oppress or are oppressed. This entire poem has a deep sense of anonymity, "we" versus "they."
orders-
Like a man would whistle to his dog. Also, an image of pain and sorrow. Order fits well into this line and the jarbledness of the poem because it plays on the central theme of music. The title, "Deathfugue," makes this whistling the music, the repetitious fugue to which the Jews are forced to dance. As we all know, whistling is easy and fun, but the Jews are ordered to dance to the sick music, to dance and whistle along with it.
us-
Again, a level of anonymity. Who is the "us?" There is a sense of giving up, giving in in this line, like people have been responding to the whistle many times, a sick routine.
Strike-
Strike is a powerful, violent, fast word. A word that sounds like it sounds, like the crack of a whip. This word adds great amounts of tension to the line. First, it can be interpreted as the person ordering people in line and then for no reason striking someone in the crowd. A spontaneous burst of violence. Also, it is a mocking command. He orders us to strike out, lash out against your captors- if you dare! A taunt from someone with power. It is effective because the reader does not know what is coming next and asks, "what are we striking out against?"
up-
Rising, perhaps even rising above. "Strike up" is a term used in music to begin a song or a dance. The Jews are forced to strike up the dance as if they were at some formal ball or something. Also, this word fits the poem well as it parallels the part when the Jews are digging a grave in the sky, and will be forcefully struck up into those graves. As the Jews were forced to do labor that would propagate the German war machine that oppressed them, they must have felt like they were actively aiding their own demise.
and play-
Wow. Being forced to dance and play to add to your own destruction. What horrible imagery. How, in the midst of this dark, horrible poem can the word "play" be brought in?
for the dance-
Startling imagery that brings us back to the music/fugue aspect of the poem. The Jews were forced to enjoy what was happening, dancing like cruel marionettes under Nazi power. A sad, sad fate for the Jews.
Ryan
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Tuesday, March 14, 2000 8:59 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 16. Sachs // Death of screams
Sachs poem, Landscape of Screams, in Pinter, 99 poems, is a gripping tale of the power of communication. What noise conveys more passion, more emotion that the human scream? This is such an extraordinary poem because it discusses what happens when even the scream is killed. The final stanza in this poem, I feel, is the most exciting part as it conveys the message of the poem well.
O you bleeding eye-
The scream is referred to as an eye. This metaphor is interest ring because it ascribes two senses to the scream, vision and hearing. If a scream is killed, is it like an eye that cannot see? Can we see with our screams? Also, a bleeding eye is a veer repulsive vile thing and conjures a distinctive mental image. But a bleeding eye is not necessarily a dead eye, but a dying organism with a distorted view of its surroundings.
In the tattered eclipse of the sun-
An apocalyptic scene created through surreal imagery. A bleeding eye scream in the tatters of an eclipse. An eclipse in ancient times was a bad omen, a portent of evil. Killing this visionary scream is a signal for bad days to come for all things. What does it mean to silence a scream, to take away someone's most fundamental way to express horror or rage? It must be a totally incapacity experience.
Hung up to be dried by God-
Wow. God is silencing the people. Is this poem filled with rage against god due to religious conflict? This line gives total control of the universe and shows the incredible power someone has by silencing peoples screams. Are the people screaming to god and god is ignoring their cries for help? This seems like a poem that could have been written about the holocaust with people in concentration camps feeling forsaken by their god with no one to scream to. What a horrible sense of powerlessness.
In the cosmos- -
I very fitting end to this poem. Finally, the screams are taken up, and displayed in the cosmos. This action seems to reverse the thought of god in the previous line, as now god is viewed as not only hearing the screams of his people, but raising them up to heaven.
In- Within and encompassed by. "In" fits the poem because it shows the intimacy between the screams and the screamer. By showing the scream coming form the insides of a person, and being placed in the cosmos, it transforms the scream from a personal sound to a universal scream. There is one scream in the universe, and it is the screams of all people combined.
the- I know everyone is thinking, "how can you write about the word 'the'?" but I am going to anyway. "The" sets the reader up for something big. One big thing, singular. This is important because it connects the universal ness to the cosmos.
Cosmos- The sky and stars, but also the universe. Cosmos works well because it gives a sensation of both "up there" and "everything." This fits into the poem as a whole because the poem is about all these choked off screams and where they go, and it is a fitting place for many screams. A unique part of this poem is the fact that it ends with a hyphen, as if the poem would be longer but was cut off. Wonderful and fitting ending because this is the final scream, the scream to end all screams and it too is cut off.
I think this poem can serve as a reminder to not become desensitized to screaming. We cannot ignore others emotion or our own, or we lose the power of the scream.
Ryan
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Saturday, March 11, 2000 1:10 AM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: Bernard // Medicinal Poetry
Bernard, April, Psalm: It Must be the Medication, in Psalms pg. 31
So the hip rises, oh so slightly, in its golden socket/and music continues despite the dawn-
Interesting imagery. The hip in this line may be the sun rising in the morning sky. Why is the sun a hip? Hip is such a funny word- hip hip hip like staccato notes from an instrument. Hip doesn't seem to fit in this line. All the other words (slightly, socket, music, despite, dawn) all have soft qualities and long vowels. Hip stands out. The second part of this line is quite cryptic. Music continuing despite the dawn conjures great joy, a party that has conquered the night and continues in defiance of day. By opening the poem this way, Bernard seems to be casting a mood of defiance.
The lion threw his head back and sang two notes like a veery-
A veery is a bird, a type of Thrush actually. Why would a fierce lion open its enormous, threatening mouth and peep like a bird? This may be interpreted two ways; either the lion is being diminished and forced to make the sounds of a small bird, or the king of the animals finally gets a stately voice. Either way, Bernard is changing nature. It seems the speaker or voice in the poem is transformed and does not have a voice fitting to its nature. Many of Bernards poems speak of the stature of women, and it seems this is an excellent metaphor for a woman's power belied by the meek voice allowed to her by society. Is the speaker the lion? The poet? Women?
Everywhere doubling, like two acid drops on sugar,/two boiling drops on ice, close your eyes-
Things are not as they should be. Two acid drops on sugar and boiling drops on ice are destructive to their medium. The acid in this line suggests the medication in the title of the poem. Is the medication affecting the changes in nature, or are the changes being blamed on drugs? The last three words of this line are a command. CLOSE YOUR EYES. The reader feels compelled to close their eyes. I like the way this line is broken up, it leaves the reader with a feeling of wondering what is to follow. What am I closing my eyes for?
And memory sound as a wooden bucket, more sound-
This line plays on two meanings of the word sound. The first meaning implies sturdy or OK and the second is audio sound. Is Bernard making a joke by comparing memory to a wooden bucket? Again, like the first line, a word in this line doesn't seem to fit. Bucket is a harsh word, staccato surrounded by silky syllables of the other words. Why is Bernard playing a beautiful singsong poem to be filled with words that jar the reader out of the rhythm?
Why fuss with innuendo, when/ gold and russet fruit lie across the forest floor?
Why should people use metaphors when what is needed is right in front of you? Well then, what would the use of poetry be? "Gold and russet fruit lying on a forest floor" is such a vivid and appealing image that works well. This image is probably the only straight forward image in the poem.
Here, the loon's vocal cascade, absolute,/ for the moment without remove, write, "I can't stop laughing"
A poignant ending to a strange poem. The beginning of the line causes a sense of peace after the melee of the preceding lines. This peace seems to be "absolute" peace. Then, the second part of the line speaks of a moment, which contradicts the absoluteness. What is going on in this world where nothing is as it seems? The final part of the line leaves the reader with a sense of insanity caused by this wild, strange world.
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Tuesday, March 07, 2000 10:57 AM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 14. Hesiod//Great Father?
Rheia, submissive in love to Kronos/bore glorious children,
This opening line gives an almost reverent tone to the poem. The birth of royal children, especially in the time of the Greeks, was a huge event. Through this line, it is possible to learn much about both Rheia and Kronos. Why is Rheia described as submissive? The name Rheia is soft and delicate like a flower petal, whereas Kronos seems to sparkle with energy and danger. Many images come from this single line. I picture a gorgeous young dark haired woman who is gentle and kind being controlled by a powerful, old, mean and controlling husband. Hesiod draws many mental images in the first line of this poem.
Hestia and Demeter,/Hera of the golden sandals,/and strong Hades, who under the ground/lives in his place-
The second line also adds to the dramatic and happy tone of the poem. Naming off all the children and their powers is something a mother would do. It seems that this birth is greater than the poem lets on. Rheia is a sort of Pandora's Box which everything comes out of, even the cruel Hades of the underworld. The tone of the poem still suggests the love from the mother toward her children.
and has a hear without pity;/the deep-thunderous Earthshaker,/and Zeus of the Counsels,/
Again, Hesiod shows the diversity of the children and the glory that must be felt.
who is the father of gods and mortals,/and underneath whose thunder the whole wide earth shudders;
A very important line. How can Zeus be father to the gods when Kronos is father to the gods? Is Hesiod attempting to prove that it takes more than conceiving a child to be a father? What a fascinating twist thrown in, especially for a Greek writer. Somehow, this line also seems to foreshadow the future and imply a cyclical response from Zeus to repeat the sins of his father. What does it mean to be a father? This poem so far is a stereotypical view of the weak woman and strong oppressive man, which will obviously be propagated with Zeus.
but, as each of these children/ came from the womb of its mother/to her knees, great Kronos swallowed it down,
As each of these children were born, it was swallowed up by its father. Could it also be that these people were swallowed up by their unique culture and the gender roles people play within it? If so, how do we escape what we are born into? Is it even possible? I like this line because it has an obvious double meaning. "From the womb of its mother/ to her knees" means to give birth, but it also implies that Rheia is on her knees pleading with Kronos to let her children live. This touching image of a woman pleading and a man totally ignoring her wishes is powerful. This marks an important change in the mood of the poem from happy to downright evil.
with the intention/that no other of the prowl children/ children of the line of Ouranos/ should ever hold the king's position among the immortals...
Much can be gleaned from Greek culture from this line. What does it say about a society in which powerful men are terrified of other men, especially their own children, to take their power? I think that all fathers want what is best for their children, but always want to be looked up to, to be seen as powerful.
Therefore he kept watch, and did not sleep,/but waited/ for his children, and swallowed them,
It is possible to see Kronos's full paranoia and distress at any challenge to his power. Selfishness is controlling him even though he must know what he is doing is wrong.
and Rheia's sorrow was beyond forgetting-
Wow. One of the most powerful lines of poetry I have ever read. Rheia, the "submissive lover," is suddenly back into the poem. Such incredible grief flows from this line. Can anyone imagine grief that is truly beyond forgetting? Somehow this portrayal gives Rheia strength and power. She will not, cannot forget what has taken place. Through her not forgetting, Rheia stands as a beacon for women in her time. This poem illustrates the mistreatment of women throughout history and is very powerful even for the time it was written. This poem is a great example of meaning that can change over time.
Ryan
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Friday, March 03, 2000 9:35 AM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 13 Williams//Turtlezilla
Not because of his eyes/the eyes of a bird/but because he is beaked- Williams is taking an animal and comparing it with the characteristics of another animal- a bird. A bird and turtle are very different creatures. This juxtaposition makes the turtle mystical and great, allowing it to fly and be an animal of prey. Through this imagery, the turtle gets lifted out of itself and becomes its opposite. How often do we wish we were different than what we are? Doesn't everyone at some time wish they were someone or something else? This is the plight of the lonely turtle.
birdlike, to do an injury/has the turtle attracted you- Imaging that the turtle has awesome power is an outlet to the observer. "to do an injury" is an interesting line as it describes the motive of the turtle, but who has seen a turtle that is a predator? Not I. What is the speaker in this poem seeing in this turtle?
He is you only pet./When we are together you talk of nothing else- The first use of "we" in the poem. It appears as if a child's imagination is ascribing all these great traits to the turtle. If the powerful turtle is a child's pet, what does this say about the child? It makes the child great and powerful. Haven't we all had these dreams when we were young? Through this kids imagination, he is experiencing a will to power. The child is infatuated with the turtle and all the turtle symbolizes.
ascribing all sorts of murderous motives to his least action- Another description of the power the child finds in the poem. The poet uses "you" many times to show the dichotomy between the child's magical world where the turtle is great, and the world of the father where the turtle is a second rate amphibian. The language is even accusatory at times. Is the father jealous of his son's admiration of the turtle? Is the child jealous of the role of his father? Interesting tension is building, but it is hard to say what. Williams is being ambiguous on purpose, and it is a great way of raising tension.
you ask me to write a poem, if I have poems to write, about a turtle- This is the pivotal line in the poem. The power is given to the speaker/poet. The poet now has the ability to shape the world of the child if he pleases. Through his poem, he can crush the child's world by putting the poor turtle back into his place. The climax of the poem where the reader thinks, "what is he going to do?"
The turtle lives in the mud/but is not mud-like,/you can tell by its eyes/which are clear- The first five words are full of incredible tension as it appears that the poet/speaker is going to let the child down. The second part of the line catches the attention of the reader, is a twist and provides hope that the father may put his selfish motives behind himself and recognize the importance of the turtle in the mind of the child. The poet eventually makes the right decision and sees the turtle thought the child's eyes. The poet uses a metaphor of the eyes of the turtle, which really describe his own eyes once muddied and now made clear.
When he shall escape/ his present confinement/ he will stride about the world/destroying all/with his sharp beak- These words are full with triple meaning. First, these are the words of a poem to a childe. Second, the author is entering the world of the child and viewing the true majestic turtle. Third, the speaker/poet is associating with the turtle and uses the turtle as a metaphor of his own hopes and desires. The poet wants to break out of his "present confinement" and ravage the countryside and be like god to his grandson.
Whatever oppresses him
in the streets of the city
shall go down.
Cars will be overturned.
And upon his back
shall ride,
to his conquests,
my Lord,
You!
You shall be master!
These lines are very powerful as the poet/speaker envisions himself being a powerful creature destroying the world for a child he loves. The turtle/man is willing to destroy cities to fulfill his own desires and to be looked upon by his grandson. Lines like these speak on many different levels.
This is one of the greatest poems I have ever read. I feel the electricity of these poems and all the meaning compacted into these two pages. I know this is not the end of the poem, but I have to go to class, or I will fail out of school! The rest of the lines increase the power of the turtle/speaker to godly proportions to live up to his grandson's expectations, fulfill his own desires to be important in the eyes of the child, and prove his unending love and friendship for the child.
Ryan
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Tuesday, February 29, 2000 5:09 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 12. McPherson // Changed Methods
Bad Mother Blues
When you were arrested child and I had to take your pocket knife
When you were booked and I had to confiscate your pocket knife
It had blood on it from where you tried to take your life
It was the night before Thanksgiving, all your family was coming over
The night before Thanksgiving, all your family coming over
We had to hide your porno magazine and put your handcuffs undercover.
Each naked man looked at you and said, "baby, who do you think you are?"
Each man looked straight down on you, like waiting astronomer star
Slowly, disgustedly, each wagged his luster
I've decided to throw horror down the well with a wish on it
I've decided I'll throw horror down the well and wish on it
And up from the water will shine my sweet girl in her baby bonnet
A thief will shine you with his flashlight, but a daughter be your bouquet
A thief will blind you with his flashlight, but a daughter be your bouquet
When the thief is your daughter, you turn your eyes the other way.
I'm going into the sunflower field where all of them are facing me
I'm going into the sunflower field, so all of them are facing me
Going to go behind the sunflowers, feel all the sun that I can't see
McPherson on The Language of Life Cassette.
What a sad and arresting poem! McPherson does an excellent job of using vivid imagery to compel a sense of longing and pain in her words. This poem is rife with years of pent up anger and frustration, yet a sense of loving acceptance which dance together throughout the lines. I think the power of this poem is in the final stanza. On one level, the speaker wants to run away to a happy place, a patch of sunflowers, and hide from the embarrassment caused by her child. On a deeper level, I think the mother is crying out to the child she wishes she had, the child beyond the disease. She wants to pull back the sunflowers and find the child she loves, her daughter. This ideal, cured, daughter is the sun that is sometimes obscured by the tall, thick flowers of her theft and misbehavior.
The same imagery and theme can be observed in the fourth stanza. Again, the speaker is throwing a wish down into the a well, tossing it away, in hopes of the perfect daughter. This entire poem reminds me of "My Papa's Waltz" by Roethke, in that there is a deep sense of routine and detachment. The mother is so used to sacrificing for her daughter that it has become second nature.
One point in the poem I don't understand is the image of "great astronomer star." What imagery does this produce? When I heard this poem, nothing came to mind for this image. What does McPherson intend?
-Ryan
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Sunday, February 27, 2000 3:38 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: Image of Roethke
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Sunday, February 27, 2000 3:34 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 11. Roethke // Painful Dancing
"My Papa's Waltz" by Roethke is a fascinating view of an abusive relationship between father and son. The first five words, "The whiskey on your breath" (Roethke, My Papa's Waltz, in Rag and Bone p. 130), sets the stage and provides background for the poem. This action of being thrust directly into the conflict of the poem has a great effect of internalizing the reader. The reader is compelled to join in the dangerous waltz between father and son and shares in the emotions of the speaker.
Another way Roethke draws the reader into the poem is though the use of rhyme and meter. This poem reads like a nursery rhyme and is an effective tool to keep the reader into the pace, to make the reader read the poem faster than they normally would. The nursery rhyme aspect makes us view the action from the eyes of the child. Although the message in the poem is deep and dark, the beat is upbeat and almost fun. This creates conflict between the content of the poem and the written words as their intents seem to vary. The effect is a dark tale of abuse told in a sing song fashion. How would this poem differ if there was no rhyme or meter? I think it would not evoke such a strong emotional response from the reader.
It is very interesting that Roethke uses the metaphor of a waltz for his conflict with his father. The waltz, I believe, is a slow, clumsy dance. Also, as with all dances, both dancers know the steps and the moves they must make. This metaphor is effective as it illustrates the conflict and monotony of the struggle. The final sentence, "Then waltzed me off to bed/Still clinging to your shirt." (Roethke, My Papa's Waltz, in Rag and Bone p. 130), shows the struggle and love shared between father and child. I know that many people think that abusive parents and children cannot love each other, but that is often not the case. It appears in this poem that both the child and his father know and understand their roles in the sick dance, but are compelled to dance anyway.
--Ryan Schultz
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Thursday, February 24, 2000 12:03 AM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 10. Peacock's Chapter Ten // Balled & Bawled
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.
--Ryan
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Wednesday, February 23, 2000 11:40 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 9. Komunyakaa // The man who stole roses...
Each time I read the poem My Father's Love letters I gleaned slightly more from the text. My first translation was quite literal. I read a poem about an incredibly sad situation with a man forced to write letters for his illerate father to his mother who left. The evidence for this interpretation are readily available in the text. The second and third times I read this poem though, I took some meanings differently and spent more time in the imagery of the poem. For instance, the line "the heartless/Gleam of a two pound wedge/On the concrete floor" as a physical manifestation of the division and conflict between the father, mother and child of this poem. The second interpretation I decided upon changed the nature of this item. I read this poem the second time to be a metaphor for writing poetry and the power of language. The wise old man, a poet, was victimized by the world in which he found his inspiration. The poet's tools are manifestations of his words, the tools of his creation. The poet has not audio language, but the tools and abilities to create. The conflict in this new story then becomes the poet's inability to reach his audience through the means he knows: construction. The condescendention to depend upon another person and another language must be very difficult for the poet, and the trust he puts into his son unimaginable. Also, the line about beating his wife may not be literal, but a metaphor for understanding, e.g. his "abuse" of his wife stems from his inability to communicate. In this second interpretation, the imagery of the wedge is not a symbol of his separation, but the ineffective "heartless" tools which are now useless to him in accomplishing his goal of connecting his audience.
The final readings I experienced in this poem support what I decided upon as a interpretation earlier, but with new imagery. Bear with me, this is only a theory and I am probably VERY wrong. Here goes. I believe that this poem is still about poetry, but encompasses a greater breadth of topic. I think the character of the rough hewn carpenter is somehow connected with the ancient Greek god Hesphastos (I think this is right), the inventor/creator of the gods. Hesphastos was deformed and quite ugly, although he had an incredible talent for making anything, and longed for a wife. The carpenter in his shed in the center of the earth, the shed in the poem, is cut off from the beautiful outside world, the sun shining through the door, and represents the creator spirit in all people. This spirit longs for connection with its creation, with beauty, and desire for love. All these desires are embodied by the carpenter in the poem who can create, but is unable to communicate and is therefore shut off from the rest of the world. The conflict again is that the incredibly talented creator's talents are not sufficient for the deed at hand and a great sense of helplessness occurs. Dependency follows, and all that the Hesphastos figure has to offer is his name and fame.
I hope this makes sense. Sometimes I read over what I have just written and really wonder what is going on in my head... Oh well, things to ponder.
--Ryan
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Wednesday, February 23, 2000 2:24 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 8 Rumi//Dark Age
This poem is by far the most romantic and touching poem I have ever read. Rumi's love is so deep and profound that it serves as a model for our lives. "From the beginning of my life/ I have been looking for you face." (Rumi). What a statement of devotion and commitment. Could any of us even imagine committing your entire life to searching for the truth, the eternal love? Although it is so difficult for me to even comprehend, it is so truthful. What else should we spend our lives doing? I am reminded of "Four Quatrains" when Rumi says something along the lines of "whoever is not killed for love is dead meat." Wow. We need that passion in our lives. We need to be the martyr, throwing off the transient physical world to be purified and reborn in the flames of love. Although this world we live in is so harmful and petty, why is it so difficult to give it all away? Why do we cling to this little shred to a rag? This is the question Rumi continually poses. We are lacking something in our lives. That something is mysticism. Since the dawn of science and technology, the awe and magic of the world seems to be ebbing away. As Buddha prophesized, we are entering a spiritual dark age where we will lose touch with the divinity and mystery of the world. Rumi is warning us of this inevitability, and, hopefully, it is not too late.
--Ryan
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Tuesday, February 22, 2000 1:30 AM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: Response to Jeff//Rumisms
Jeff,
First of all, I can see why you struggle with this poem as it is much more abstract than anything else we have read. When I read Rumi, I often feel the same way. I feel the poet is trying to teach me a profound lesson, but I am swinging the bat nowhere near the ball, if you know what I mean. Rumi often seems to move from simple lessons and observations to funny abstract bantering that I am apparently not smart enough to understand. I think that the struggle his poems provide is what makes them so great. I'll read a poem by Rumi and really struggle with it, the come back to it again and again to try and decipher his puzzle. Each time I come back, it seems that neither I or the poem is the same and I learn something new or understand a new piece of the truth he seems to have nailed down.
Another thing I like about Rumi, you seemed to touch on this, is how much he was connected with his spirituality over 500 years ago. People are supposed to progress and evolve over time, but it seems that our modern age has left people with a spiritual void. Through our fierce individuality, we separate from the communal aspect of life and God that is crucial to happiness. How did this occur? What is it about people that makes us fear our spiritual side? Why is it so uncool to be spiritual? Rumi's poems challenge his readers to search out this missing aspect of our lives. This pervading struggle is resurging today, and I think that is why Rumi's poems are enjoying a surge in popularity.
Keep up the good work Jeff!
Ryan
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Tuesday, February 22, 2000 1:05 AM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: response to jtstone // Let's Dance...
First, I really liked your interpretation. It made me see this poem in a new and interesting light. The idea of the subject of this poem being a free-thinking cosmopolitan woman is very exciting. I think this interpretation is a clever reading into the poem, but I would like to challenge some of your ideas. Where is it evident in the poem that the mentioned woman has traveled to strange lands and learned others cultures? I agree that the woman has an air of foreignness, but where in the text is your support for this idea?
I really like your interpretation of the dance they might dance together. If they dance, his world will be challenged to its foundations, and it is only capable by throwing himself into the fire willingly and totally submitting to be taught by her that this change is able to occur. A fabulous insight that I never would have thought of. This new spin adds a new sort of conflict to the poem and creates more tension. The man is given a choice; free will and happiness, or remain the same and live the normal life. What would most people choose?
Another thing I liked about your interpretation is the idea of a strong woman teaching a naive male about the intricacies of life. Hesse investigates this in he novel "Steppenwolf" as the main character is totally dependent upon a woman he meets to teach him about life. The man is torn, but the woman is the thread that holds him together. A very interesting concept often found in literature.
Excellent work and a great interpretation.
Ryan Schultz
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Wednesday, February 16, 2000 1:19 AM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 7 Rumi // Ageless Advice
"Where is a foot worthy to walk in a garden" (Rumi in Rag and Bone, p 9). A dichotomy of nature and man. As I stated in class yesterday, I do not feel that man and nature can fully be reunited. What is it about humans, when were we cast out of the garden? For the animals and nature, it is easy. We humans create a microcosm around ourselves, building our egos and illusions that we are actually in control of anything. We are not. Rumi's poetry is about his incredible faith in God, and it is very apparent even in this first line. Reminds us that we are here only because God allows us to be here.
"Or an eye that deserves to look at trees?" (Rumi in Rag and Bone, p 9). Another line in the same vein as the first. Who is truly worthy to desecrate the supreme beauty of a tree with our filthy glances? Has anyone ever really looked closely at a tree? The intricate veins in its broad, semi-translucent leaves or the tiny crawling things that live in the grooves in its rough bark are all tiny miracles that are taken for granted.
"Show me a man willing to be" (Rumi in Rag and Bone, p 9). This line is very interesting. Although it is only half of a sentence, it says much without its remainder. This line illustrates the illusional world in which we dwell, and the rarity of someone who wishes to be. The rare person who seeks the truth only found in God.
"Thrown in the fire." A sort of shocking conclusion to the sentence. This line was obviously constructed to make the reader expect one thing and get another. Being thrown into something is a feeling of helplessness, but Rumi wants this man to willingly be thrown. A definite act of faith.
"In the shambles of love, they kill only the best" A reference to Christ? After a failing of love, the best are selected and killed. A sort of sacrifice perhaps. Rumi seems to speak of a kind of love where absolutely nothing is held back. Loving from head to toe, every moment of life. Does anyone love anything this much?
"None of the weak or deformed" The love Rumi writes about is only a perfect love. Those unable of such a relationship need not apply. "They" select only the most worthy, the most perfect to sacrifice for this perfect, all giving love in shambles.
"Don't run away from this dying." Yes, this love is painful and demanding, but be not afraid! To give all you have, you must give all you have. If you face this dying, you have been selected, one of the worthy tested by fire. You are the foot worthy to walk in the garden and the eye that deserves to look at trees. Yet it is a dying. You must let go. Leave your microcosm behind and give yourself over to the rare and diving love.
"Whoever is not killed for love is dead meat." Oh, the blatant truth of this simple line! If you think about it, what else is there really to live for than love? Why live at all if you cannot live happily and in peace?
"Tonight with wine being poured" Very sensual images. The pouring of wine has many meanings from promises of drunkenness and wildness, to a night of luxury, to a romantic evening. This imagery definitely sets a mood in a single sentence and energizes the next stanza with an image of two wine glasses filled full in the light of a solitary candle.
"And instruments singing among themselves," On this magical night of wine and excess, even the instruments come to life to join in the festivities. This is a powerful image of joy, like a wild party spinning around at a feverish pace late into the night. Inhibitions definitely not welcome.
"One thing is forbidden" An evening that is spinning wildly out of control with ecstasy and pleasure is held short by only one single rule. What could it be? Why does Rumi divide the line here? The reader must pause, if only for a second, to decide what the rule could be. What rule could there be that could steal the magic from this night?
"one thing: Sleep." An excellent surprise. Rumi leads the reader one way and then suddenly pulls them back another. There is nothing that can ruin the festivities except for slumber. People can live like this party everyday if they so choose, they only need desire to continue. Through this line Rumi questions his reader by asking, "the choice is yours; will you sleep?"
"Two strong impulses: One" A foreshadowing. The reader must ask what the two impulses could possibly be.
"To drink long and deep," Wow. Another sort of rule like the forbidden sleep. Let go of yourself, lose you ego, give in to the incredible love of God. The reader can choose to live this amazing life of pleasure, and the only price they have to pay is to have fun and follow your impulses.
"The other" Again, Rumi breaks up the sentence for emphasis.
"Not to sober up too soon." A clever trick played by the poet. The reader expects something different, not the same impose mentioned before. This line washes away all the anxiety of wonder and mystery in the poem and leaves the reader fulfilled with promise of happiness. We truly create our own destiny.
This poem is an invitation to join a party that is always happening. Rumi even provides his readers with instructions to his house. He tells us that living is truly living. Desiring to be frees us from our mundane world of insignificant worries which master us. A love is out there that encompasses all and delivers all.
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Tuesday, February 15, 2000 6:57 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: Response to Briggle//Plato's Forms
Adam, I agree with your interpretation to an extant. I do think that people bring their own associations to a poem and thus, every person has a unique and intimate relationship with a poem. But, although I agree that everyone has different associations to project into a poem, there is a "communal" consciousness to which everyone belongs. I think that most people (and I don't mean you or anyone in particular) struggle with poetry because they want it to be profound and simple at the same time. This is the way I look at it. Poet's are concerned with the truth. As Rilke puts it, "one gradually begins to recognize the very few things in which eternity dwells..." (Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet, p. 47). Plato also speaks about the truth through forms. As he explains, we are like people chained to a wall in a cave. Behind us is a candle and a form. The form is the essence of something, like a horse. All we as humans are able to see is the shadow of the horse caused by the candle light. We live in this world of shadows. Plato believes that, yes, every horse we see is a horse, but is imperfect. The only "real" or "perfect" horse is the essence or form of the horse in front of the candle. To me, a poet is a bold explorer who dares to look into the light and face the truth. Unfortunately, because the poet exists in the world of shadows, his "shadow vocabulary" is not capable of explaining the perfect. So, I think that poets see and comprehend those rare perfect "forms," but must utilize our imperfect "shadow language" in differently to explain the truth.
This brings me back to the topic of this response. I think that, because we are shadows, every person has a tiny aspect of the truth inside of themselves, thus explaining a communal consciousness. I think that because we all interpret a poem in a different way, we all get in touch with our perfection. Different projections by the reader may in fact be different aspects of the greater truth.
I hope I haven't confused anyone, because I think I have thoroughly confused myself. Oh well...
Ryan Schultz
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Tuesday, February 15, 2000 6:36 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 6 Baudelaire//The passion of the Albatross
In reading the assigned poems in 99 Poems, none struck me as much as The Albatross. The first time I read this poem, I did not like it at all. The more I read it though, the more it seemed to jump out at me. This poem is filled with symbols and metaphors that are not very evident in the first couple readings. Furthermore, after class yesterday, many comments about this challenged my interpretation and forced me to read the poem yet again. I now feel that this poem is a metaphor for the passion of Christ. The imagery of a large, majestic bird of the heavens being ensnared by a cruel group of men who exist in a tiny boat hopelessly and aimlessly adrift in an enormous ocean. The stately, peaceful bird is mocked just as Jesus was by his captors. "They're scarcely set on deck, these heavenly kings..." (Baudelaire in 99 Poems, Pinter p. 20). This reference raises the captured albatross to the status of a "heavenly king." Another reference to support this interpretation, "See this winged traveler, so awkward, weak!" (Baudelaire in 99 Poems, Pinter p. 20) is an image of a being not from this world, but a far worthier place. This symbol made me think of an angel with broad feathery wings flying to earth and cruelly mistreated until its fragile wings drooped. This creature, once fine and lovely, is now mistreated and broken. Much like Christ was during the story of the passion. Baudelaire in the final stanza changes the tone and direction of this poem and begins to speak of a "Poet," who is like " a monarch of the clouds/ who haunts the tempest, scorns the bows and slings;/ Exiled on earth among the shouting clouds,/ He cannot walk for he has giant's wings." (Baudelaire in 99 Poems, Pinter p. 20) This stanza, I believe is the heart and soul of this poem. The imagery is staggeringly profound in scale while encapsulated in so few words. This poet, Christ, is the son of the monarch of the clouds who has infinite powers. This poet is sent to the hostile crowds who cannot accept his simple message, and is condemned to die. Yet in all this imagery, no line is as powerful as the last. The image of Christ, a divine creature sent from heaven staggering through hostile, mocking crowds, who stumbles under the weight of his enormous wings; a heavy cross. Oh how Christ is like the Albatross in this poem.
The comments in class about Baudelaire being very arrogant can be seen in this interpretation. If Christ is the poet who suffers because of his message, then Baudelaire, being a poet himself, rises himself to the level of the divine.
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Tuesday, February 15, 2000 6:02 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 5. Hirsch // Personal Horizon
"The reader exists on the horizon of a poem." (Hirsch, How to read a Poem, p 30). How true this is! Sometimes, I feel like the poem is a great mystery in which I can never fully partake. But then, isn't the fun in trying to find out what the poem means? I think of the poem Pitcher in that poetry likes to make the batter swing a few times before they connect. By reading poetry, we teach ourselves a lesson. We teach ourselves how to learn. This touches on something Jeff was mentioning in his commentary: we will not always be taught, but we must become the teachers. How do we teach ourselves to understand the poem, the little mirror of the truth, to chase around the horizon only to find ourselves back where we began. But do we return to where we started? No. We have changed. The allure of poetry is that it changes you. Poetry is not an emotion, an experience or simply words, but is more. A poem is a combination of the three so constructed to make you change, make you want to change. How can a reader move beyond the horizon of a poem and into its center? I certainly don't know. Perhaps it is impossible. Perhaps poems are just ink blots with no intrinsic meaning other than that which the reader associates with the written words. Maybe we need to move past the horizons of ourselves.
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Wednesday, February 09, 2000 4:53 PM
To: Flynn, Kevin C; Thamert, Mark
Subject: Reply to Kevin//On the Road with Dante
Kevin, I also thought of Kerouac when I read this poem. Dante definitely delves into those romantic images of the journey. Really, what does it matter where you are going as long as you are with the people that are most important to you. When are people going to understand that happiness can be found in the journey, not only the destination? I myself am guilty of planning, robbing my life of adventure. So many often create suffering by living in the future and rarely living in the moment, and being absorbed in every little miracle that is NOW. I think that a common purpose of art is to capture the moment, a snapshot in time, to be enjoyed over and over again.
I also liked the images you first conjured up when you saw a poem by Dante. What a fantastic idea. First, the power of a single word or name with the ability to create a poem with one word. It is a example of the power of language to read a single name and be buffeted with images. A poem with one word. That sounds like something I could write!
Since you immediately had certain images when you read Dante's name, did it effect you expectations or how you read the poem? Would the poem have taken on a different meaning if it was written by someone else? The reason I ask is because I had the same experience when I read his name also. After I read the poem, I thought "THAT was Dante?!?" In the diagram Fr. Mark wrote on the board, was the Divine Comedy Dante's real personality? Was Sonnet to Guido... his real personality? Were either?!? It is incredible how a writer can create an illusion around himself. Who was Dante? What did he want his audience to think he was? These are very important questions that I think all poets want us to ask.
Great work Kevin,
Ryan Schultz
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Monday, February 07, 2000 11:28 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 4 Michaelangelo, Khlebnikov // The price of words
"try/to succour my dead pictures and my fame;/since foul I fare and painting is my shame." (Michelangelo, "On the Painting of the Sistine Chapel" In 99 Poems p. 76). Michelangelo gives us a vivid account of the physical sacrifices made during the painting of the Sistine Chapel. The poet is actually ashamed of his work and the state of affairs it has left his decrepit body in. Vivid imagery of an elderly man, skin hanging off his bones and splattered with paint, are effective in making the audience feel and understand what he has given for his art. Although this imagery moves me, I have trouble associating with what the author is feeling. I am not an artist (drawing stick men is a struggle for me), and I think that is why I am drawn to this poem. To me, the idea of giving one's entire life to paint the inside of a chapel is beyond me. What could possibly move someone to sacrifice so much for their art? Why isn't this desire to create burning in my soul? Although horrified by what has become of the poet in this poem, I am left jealous for I do not possess the only thing he is left with: his art and talent to create. I actually feel as though the man with his broken body and face smeared with paint is luckier than I. I wish I had his passion. Michelangelo's sacrifice for his art is sharply contrasted with the poem by Khlebnikov entitled "We chant and enchant." One line that particularly struck me goes "Here rant! There cant!/ You charming enchanter" (99 Poems, p 56). Khlebnikov's creation differs from Michelangelo in that he seems to be having fun. This is obvious thought the light interplay of words and toying with sounds and meanings. Prefixes are subtly changed to add a "tongue-twisting" effect on the reader which seems to draw them further into the poem. Although "We Chant and Enchant" is more fun, I am still drawn to the sacrifices of Michelangelo. I wonder if a poem can be profound and deep in meaning if the poet is unable to delve deep into him/herself and draw out that which is one with the soul.
Hence the debate. Does a poem require sacrifice like some ancient god to be full of meaning and depth? Or can a poem be fun and lively, and not be deep or grand in scale? I believe the answer is both. Again, I stress that I have not the creator spirit in me, and it is difficult for me to understand the emotional connection between the artist and their art. That is why I respect these two poems for different reasons. I like Michelangelo's for it describes a feeling I envy and wish I could partake in, but I also enjoy the witty, light mastery of language presented in "We Chant and Enchant."
My experience with poetry is minimal, but I hope that with time and experience I will be able to understand the relationship between art and artist.
Ryan Schultz
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Monday, February 07, 2000 10:48 PM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 3 Reply to Adam Briggle: "They will meet at the Interface of water and air."
Mr. Briggle,
Excellent remarks on the two poems. I enjoy your eloquence in further describing Stafford's fishing metaphor, and the vivid image you create doing so. I would like to question one of your statements; I agree that poetry is often "the WHAT that underlies the WHO," but what is that what? Is it the "id" that is so often spoken about in class? If it is the id, or some other repressed desires, what are they? It seems to me that the interplay between our social self and internal desires is an important struggle for everyone, and a common theme in art, what are the consequences of pouring forth forbidden thoughts and desires? Many artists speak or elude to their innermost thoughts and desires, often as inspiration, but why is the inner-child so revered? I think that there is definite freedom and release in freeing these desires, there may be a point to personal and deep that perhaps should not be breached. For example, many artists focus on their depression or feeling of inadequacy for inspiration and often pay the price. True, their release may help other people relate to and deal with their own problems, but at what price? Sometimes the ultimate price is paid. Hemingway comes to mind. Constantly trying to prove his masculinity to the world, life eventually became too much and he took his own life. Doubtless, it could be argued that his contribution of literature outweighs his sacrifice, but was it worth it to him? Just some ponderings about the dark things that lurk in all of us, and the consequences of opening that Pandora's box of inspiration.
Ryan Schultz
From: Schultz, Ryan M
Sent: Friday, February 04, 2000 1:13 AM
To: Thamert, Mark
Subject: 2 Peacock, Orpingalik, Stafford//The Living Poem
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.