Langston Hughes

For once in my life, I am actually doing an assignment several days before its due... But let's not get caught up on that, because it will probably never happen again. This writer reminds me so much of Claude McKay, that it is almost scary. The somewhat flash back he offers, as well as, the meaningful words that Hughes uses, make these poems seem to jump off the page.

I unconsciously picked the shortest poem in the selection of poems by Langston Hughes in the Anthology. While some might think this would make it easier to determine a feeling from the poem, it seems to only make it harder. Justice is only 4 lines, and 26 words. Yet somehow, it feels as if this poem never ends. Hughes adds a hint of rhythm to the poem, as well as a bit of structure. The words seem to repeat themselves, reiterating the message within the lines.

That Justice is a blind goddess

Is a thing to which we black are wise. 

Her bandage hides two festering sores

That once perhaps were eyes.

The words of this poem feel like they are piercing my chest; knocking the wind out of me; pushing me down to where I cannot stand back up. The black are wise to Justice. They know what it means when someone yells, "Justice shall be served!" The irony in this poem is that Justice is being covered; not truthfully exposed as it should be. Another blogger shares similar thoughts here. 

Justice is simply defined as a just behavior or treatment. The element of surprise here is that the blacks back in 1927 were not being treated fairly, and those that were mistreating them, were not given the justice they deserved. The eyes mentioned in this poem are spoken of as windows to the outside world. What is seen through one persons, may not be seen the same way through another's eyes. To an extent, this continues to happen today. However, by God's grace and love, those who are truly remorseful and seek forgiveness from Him, will be served the right Justice they deserve. 

Claude McKay

If I had to choose a favorite poet, I think I would pick McKay. Simply because I have read his work before and I am familiar with it. But doesn't everyone do that? Say they "love" things they are familiar with? Anyway, McKay is one of those poets that brings about a sense of familiarity as well as dignity.
McKay writes with words that actually mean something. He writes with words that evoke joy as well as sadness. His poem, If We Must Die, is one of the most infuriating poems to me, for this poem was written as he is talking about his past, when slavery was a popular thing that happened in America. This poem was written in response to the riots and wars that had just finished in 1919.

If we must die, let it not be like hogs

Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,

While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,

Making their mock at our accursed lot.

If we must die, O let us nobly die,

So that our precious blood may not be shed

In vain; then even the monsters we defy

Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!

O kinsmen we must meet the common foe!

Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,

And for their thousand blows deal one deathblow!

What though before us lies the open grave?

Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack,

Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!

"Dying, but fighting back," words that show perseverance as well as respect for those who have fought for their freedom as well as others freedom. McKay's shows a lot in his poems by simply choosing words that have a great impact on the reader. 

William Carlos Williams

Spring break is over and I have, what most would call, writers block. However, I must push through and continue on. Ok. Starting over. 

Williams writes poems that bring about much emotion. All poems do this, but Williams' poems do this in a way that blows the reader away. When reading The Young Housewife, I first felt a sense of sorrow. This married woman is home living her life, and then a young man drives by in his car. And much like men do, he stares at her for a moment. He compares her to a fallen leaf. What does he mean by this? Does he mean she is frail? Does he mean that she is delicate? Is this comment to be taken as a compliment or an insult?

Williams was a very cultured man, and by that I mean that he had been places and seen things. He seemed to have a greater outlook on life than most people today do. Since he worked in a medical clinic, he took the images in his of head of those patients and created poems, novels, and short stories. I believe Williams was comparing the frailness and delicate characteristics of the woman in his poem to one of the women that he had seen in the medical ward. Seeing women in a vulnerable state allows the individual to see who a woman truly is.

By writing his poems based on events and things that happened throughout his life, Williams is bringing a personal aspect to his poems, as well as encouraging the reader to feel the similar to the way Williams did when he was writing the poems.



I found another blogger who wrote about Williams, as well. You can find that blog here.

Tender Buttons

I've often thought about the complexity and confusion that ensue when someone reads any of Gertrude's works. I've began to wonder if what really seems so complex, is actually not so. My off the wall thoughts about these poems, actually make sense when given the context of the poems. "A BOX." for instance, is written in complete randomness. To most people, this poem makes so sense at all; And to others, this poem may make some sense, but the rest of it is just words on a page. Much like the thoughts and ideas of individual people... You see, everyone thinks differently. Everyone's thought processes perceive words and characters differently, and place them in a place that makes it all make sense. You've probably heard the phrase, "no two snowflakes are the same," when in reality, no two thought processes are the same.

So, when I say "a box," what comes your mind? An empty cube that you can put stuff in, right? What about when I say "circle?" Something round pops in your head. But what about if I said, "A BOX.," and then began to explain it in ways that you have never thought of before. Would that change your perception of the box? Or would you still assume it to be an empty cube? "So then the order is that a white way of being round is something suggesting a pin and it is disappointing, is it not, it is so rudimentary..."

T.S. Eliot

When I began to read T.S. Eliot's work as our assigned reading this week, I was pleasantly surprised with the familiarity that his writings bring. There seems to be a consistent beat, as well as a bit of rhyming within the lines. Several times within his works, Eliot mentions Ezra Pound. Was Pound a mentor or guiding counsel of Eliot's? Did Eliot purposefully allow Pound to influence him, or did it happen naturally?

Specifically on Eliot's poem, Gerontion, Pound had a great influence. In the Anthology footnote about the title of the poem, it says "Gerontion, from a Greek term for "an old man." Eliot had once intended this poem to serve as a prologue to The Waste Land, but Ezra Pound persuaded him to publish it separately." In the details as small as the title, Pound had an influence, what does this say about Eliot's poems?

Within the lines of Gerontion, Eliot writes in a sense of nostalgia. He writes this poem from the vantage point of an older man who desires to relive his younger days through a younger boy. The rhythm in the poem shows a sense of wisdom and sophistication within the words of the poem. The older man seems to be "flashing back" to his younger years, and by doing this, is writing a legacy for future generations to dwell on.

"After such knowledge, what forgiveness? Think now
History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors
And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions,
Guides us by vanities. Think now"

Gertrude Stein vs. Kim Nunez

At this point I’m absolutely, and totally confused. I’m sure I speak for everyone (or at least 75% of you) when I say that Stein’s poems in this book make no sense. I’m sure there is some deep meaning to them that I just don’t get. So, at the moment, Sunday night writing my blog post before class tomorrow, this just doesn’t make sense. Rant over- now I’ll attempt to compare it to another poem that gives me these same feelings, and also explain what I *think* she means.

In Stein’s poems, she uses repetitive words; this is most likely what brings about most of the confusion. However, Nelson explains that Stein’s reason for her repletion is to “let Stein place a variety of words, phrases, and concepts under philosophical and cultural pressure, so that all the components of a statement are shown to be permeated with the assumption of patriarchal poetry.” I’m not completely satisfied with this explanation, as I don’t fully understand what it means, but at least it is an attempted explanation for this writing style.

I struggled to find a poem that gave me the same emotions as this one: confusion, comedic relief, frustration, and possibly pain. {If you count the strain felt on my eyes when trying to make sure I read. Every. Single. Word.} However, I finally came across a poem that had similar repetitive qualities. In a sonnet poem by Kim Nunez, she starts off the beginning of each stanza with the same line. This may be stretching it as far as similarity goes, but I’m telling you, I could not find anything. “To take each day as it comes,” Kim says. Over, and over, again. The simplicity, yet repetitiveness of those words, brings about a since of familiarity within the poem. Maybe this is what Stein was going for? Maybe we will never know…

To Take Each Day As It Comes

To take each day as it comes
To gratefully praise The One
Joyfully face the new dawn’s grace,
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To guard my thought as it roams
On anything or anyone
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To be careful with my words
To use the value of my hands
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To do everything I can
And bring a smile to not just one
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To celebrate other’s gain
Not consciously cause another's pain
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
Not all the time comes the sun
For sorrow comes to everyone
And that I must understand.

To take each day as it comes
And know that I’m but a man
I will be glad, life’s not that bad
And do my part in God’s plan.



*A resolution during a time of disappointment.

Kim Patrice Nunez
04 August 2015

Ezra Pound vs. John Hamilton

In Ezra Pound’s poem entitled, In a Station of the Metro, he attempts to explain the idea of humanity as seen through the eyes of an observer. Pound’s short, two-lined poem is a rare form that he often doesn’t use. His poems do not stick to a beat or rhythm, but are rather free flowing and a bit random. The poem about the metro is quite shocking. At first, one might notice how short it is. Secondly, they might notice the type of wording Pound uses. Lastly, one might notice how Pound is adamantly quick and to the point.
In Pound’s poem, he talks about the metro; a metro is a large common place where thousands of people travel in and out of everyday. Several thousands of people go through the station without even being noticed. They are simply a punch or stamp on a ticket. These passengers are human beings, important people that mean something to someone. However, being an observer in the metro, these people seem to be useless. Pound uses the strong wording of apparition, which can mean wraith or ghostly being. Insinuating that these people are invisible to everyone around the observer. However, towards the end of the poem, Pound uses the words “wet, black, bough” as a word for the pavement of the metro. The pavement is a building block or foundation of the metro, much like the people of the world are the foundation. Without other believers holding down and building up the body of Christ, the pavement would be empty.
John Hamilton wrote a poem entitled, The Lost Generation, which to me speaks a similar message as Pound’s poem. In Hamilton’s poem, he speaks about the people that are there, but not really there. He says, “You see the blank stare in their eyes, just blank completely non-existent feelings… except for despair.” He attempts to share the feelings of the observer, how he sees them, but they aren’t really there. They are living the motions in their lives, without a phase, moving from point A to point B without a care.

Part of "The Lost Generation" by John Hamilton

The lost generation.

You see the blank stare
in their eyes,

just blank
completely non-existent
feelings...
except for
despair.

You see them
but they are not there.

They dare 
not dream
or
have any hope
as they feel that
their dreams
will not
come true
anyway.

John Derek Hamilton

February 17,2016

Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2016

Emily Dickinson vs. Louise Erdrich

Emily Dickinson writes her poems in a form that is simple, yet still evokes sadness as well as other emotions within the reader. Her poem, "They Shut Me Up In Prose," speaks of someone who is in captivity. Someone who is being held against her own wishes by someone she may or may not want to be with. However, Dickinson also speaks as if this person could free herself if she so desired. She writes, “Still! Could themself have peeped– And seen my Brain– go round– They might as wise had lodged a bird For treason– in the pound–“ I feel like she is saying that this girl has the brains to free herself, yet for some reason, she keeps herself trapped.

On the idea of Captivity, Louise Erdrich wrote a world famous poem entitled “Captivity.”  This poem I feel is similar to Dickinson’s in several ways; the first is that it mostly keeps in rhythm with iambic pentameter. Most of Dickinson’s poem to keep to this beat, however, I feel as if They Shut Me Up In Prose does not consistently follow this beat. Dickinson and Erdrich also mention birds in their poems. Birds always seem to represent freedom, to me, and to for both writers to mention birds within their poems about captivity, I find ironic. I feel as if captivity means to be trapped, unable to see outside, often times unable to move; yet somehow, I feel like these writers make it to be something that the people within the poem can free themselves from. Freedom is a feeling that comes when someone or something has been rescued from the grip of something else. Freedom is only a feeling that can be felt deep within one’s soul; it may be visible on their face, or it may not.  

"Captivity"

The stream was swift, and so cold   

I thought I would be sliced in two.   

But he dragged me from the flood   

by the ends of my hair.

I had grown to recognize his face.

I could distinguish it from the others.   

There were times I feared I understood   

his language, which was not human,   

and I knelt to pray for strength.

We were pursued by God’s agents   

or pitch devils, I did not know.

Only that we must march.

Their guns were loaded with swan shot.

I could not suckle and my child’s wail   

put them in danger.

He had a woman

with teeth black and glittering.   

She fed the child milk of acorns.

The forest closed, the light deepened.

I told myself that I would starve

before I took food from his hands   

but I did not starve.

One night

he killed a deer with a young one in her   

and gave me to eat of the fawn.

It was so tender,

the bones like the stems of flowers,   

that I followed where he took me.   

The night was thick. He cut the cord   

that bound me to the tree.

After that the birds mocked.

Shadows gaped and roared

and the trees flung down

their sharpened lashes.

He did not notice God’s wrath.

God blasted fire from half-buried stumps.

I hid my face in my dress, fearing He would burn us all   

but this, too, passed.

Rescued, I see no truth in things.   

My husband drives a thick wedge   

through the earth, still it shuts   

to him year after year.

My child is fed of the first wheat.   

I lay myself to sleep

on a Holland-laced pillowbeer.   

I lay to sleep.

And in the dark I see myself   

as I was outside their circle.

They knelt on deerskins, some with sticks,   

and he led his company in the noise   

until I could no longer bear

the thought of how I was.

I stripped a branch

and struck the earth,

in time, begging it to open

to admit me

as he was

and feed me honey from the rock.

Louise Erdrich, “Captivity” from Original Fire: Selected and New Poems. Copyright © 2003 by Louise Erdrich.