sad
I Sit and Look Out. by Walt Whitman
I SIT and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all oppression and shame;
I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with themselves, remorseful after
deeds
done;
I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying, neglected, gaunt,
desperate;
I see the wife misused by her husband—I see the treacherous seducer of young women;
I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be hid—I see these
sights on
the earth;
I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny—I see martyrs and prisoners;
I observe a famine at sea—I observe the sailors casting lots who shall be
kill’d, to
preserve the lives of the rest;
I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon laborers, the poor,
and
upon
negroes, and the like;
All these—All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look out upon,
See, hear, and am silent.
This poem is sad, it describes how the narrator sees and hears all these negative things going on in the world. The last few lines, “All these—All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look out upon,
See, hear, and am silent.” set a mood of the narrator. Since he is sitting, it might mean that all of these mean and horrible things have paralyzed him and have taken his voice away. The narrator cannot speak out against these horrible things because he is too shocked and is probably at a loss of words, or doesn’t even know what to say to rid the world of these horrible things. This poem is really relatable to most people. When you see horrible things like images from the holocaust or when we hear stories of slavery we are speech less, and paralyzed ourselves, and we don’t know what to do or say.
Miracle of life!
Miracles. by Walt Whitman
WHY! who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love—or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with my mother,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive, of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds—or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sun-down—or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite, delicate, thin curve of the new moon in spring;
Or whether I go among those I like best, and that like me best—mechanics, boatmen,
farmers,
Or among the savans—or to the soiree—or to the opera,
Or stand a long while looking at the movements of machinery,
Or behold children at their sports,
Or the admirable sight of the perfect old man, or the perfect old woman,
Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial,
Or my own eyes and figure in the glass;
These, with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring—yet each distinct, and in its place.
To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same;
Every spear of grass—the frames, limbs, organs, of men and women, and all that
concerns
them,
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.
To me the sea is a continual miracle;
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the ships, with men
in
them,
What stranger miracles are there?
I really like this poem and the powerful message that it sends. Often, we take for granted all the things in life. Most of us are so busy that we don’t have time to sit back and really think about how lucky we are to be alive. In the view of the narrator, we are surrounded by miracles. Everything from our environment, our jobs, our entertainment to even our death is a miracle. My favorite lines from the peom: “To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, /Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,/Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same, /Every foot of the interior swarms with the same; /Every spear of grass—the frames, limbs, organs, of men and women, and all/that/concerns/them, /All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.” This stanza is a perfect example of what I found myself day dreaming about while looking from the summit of the mountain on a camp trip a few years back. Sometimes we forget how fortunate we are to be experiencing the miracle of life and that is what this poem is about.
Everlasting Love
I Knew A Woman by Theodore Roethke
I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I’d have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek.)
How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and stand;
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin:
I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand;
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing did we make.)
Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved.)
Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:
I’m martyr to a motion not my own;
What’s freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways.)
I really like this poem a lot. I like the rhyme scheme of this poem and how each stanza follows the: a/b/a/b/c/c/c or d format. Another thing I like about this poem is that it is not age specific. The very last line in the poem “ (I measure time by how a body sways.)” leads me to believe the narrator’s point of view on age is you are as old as you feel. So the woman he is describing really could be young or old, but her agile presence makes her young. Also her personality and the way she carries herself really make her inner beauty shine through and that is what the narrator is writing about. The way she dances really captivates the narrators attention. To me, this is a poem of a couple who have been married for a long time and have grown old together, but instead of letting their age take over their lives, they remain young and in love because of their young and energetic personalities and their dancing.
A love story
determined,
because I was large,
because I was roaring,
but on close inspection
you saw a mere boy.
You seized
and snatched away my heart
and began
to play with it –
like a girl with a bouncing ball.
And before this miracle
every woman
was either a lady astounded
or a maiden inquiring:
“Love such a fellow?
Why, he’ll pounce on you!
She must be a lion tamer,
a girl from the zoo!”
But I was triumphant.
I didn’t feel it –
the yoke!
Oblivious with joy,
I jumped
and leapt about, a bride-happy redskin,
I felt so elated
and light.
I really like this poem because even though it was written several decades ago, it can still be compared to relationships today. I like the author’s use of metaphors and diction to create a personality of the male character as a lion-like. Lines like: “because I was large,/ because I was roaring” and “‘Love such a fellow? /Why, he’ll pounce on you!’” really add to the metaphor of the male lion falling in love with its mate. In contrast to the male lion metaphor, the female character in this poem takes on a role of the lion tamer, or caregiver. The lines “you saw a mere boy. / You seized /and snatched away my heart/and began/to play with it – /like a girl with a bouncing ball,” really describe how much power she as the “lion tamer” has over the male, or “lion,” in there relationship. But as anyone is happy in a relationship, the male claims that he was the more “triumphant” one, “But I was triumphant. / I didn’t feel it – / the yoke! / Oblivious with joy, / I jumped / and leapt about, a bride-happy redskin, / I felt so elated / and light.”
Apple picking
After Apple-Picking by Robert Frost
My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing dear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it’s like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.
I really like this poem because it is so relatable to so much more then just apple picking. For example, it could be compared to raking leaves or studying for a test. The constant repetition of a simple task like picking an apple or a pulling of rake, can really interfere with the rest of your life. You find yourself dreaming of the constant repetition and it no longer feels like a dream.
I can personally relate to this poem, every fall when its time to rake the leaves, I always end up dreaming about raking that night. The motions of raking become intensified and I can feel the aches and pains in my back and arms in my dreams just as the narrator can still feel the rungs of the ladder in the arch of his foot. I always wake up tired the next morning because I feel as if my brain did not get a chance to rest from raking, just as the narrator feels as if he did not get a good nights sleep either. It always blows my mind how each year I still think I’m going to have fun raking and jumping into the huge piles of leaves, just as the narrator desired his great harvest of apples and was greatly disappointed with the reminder of the effects of the hard work.
favorite winter poem
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
When I first read this poem I was in eighth grade and have always loved it since. Whenever I read this poem it is very easy for me to picture the narrator sitting on his horse in the middle of the winter taking in the beauty of the snow. The way Frost describes the natural quiet of the snowy winter night and the shake of the bells from his horse really can allow the reader to relate and hear the peaceful quite. The way the beginning of the poem brings you away from reality for just a moment, and then at the end brings you back to reality is incredible. The whole point of the poem is to embrace the peacefulness of the snow falling in the night. It is a real treat for the senses.
Nature is so unfair…
To Blossoms
By R. Herrick
Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,
Why do ye fall so fast?
Your date is not so past;
But you may stay yet here a while,
To blush and gently smile;
And go at last.
What, were ye born to be
An hour or half’s delight;
And so to bid good-night?
’Twas pity Nature brought ye forth
Merely to show your worth,
And lose you quite.
But you are lovely leaves, where we
May read how soon things have
Their end, though ne’er so brave:
And after they have shown their pride,
Like you, a while: they glide
Into the grave.
I like this poem because I can identify with the author. Ever year my mother and I spend hours out in the garden cleaning and planting flowers and bushes. But again every year the winter comes along and another summer’s project comes to an end. I always get frustrated that the warmer months are so short and that we don’t get to enjoy beautiful arrangements of flowers.
“What, were ye born to be
An hour or half’s delight;
And so to bid good-night?”
The poet is asking the tree what its purpose was, it almost seems like a waste to have such beauty for such a short time, then to simply die. This could be compared to youth in a humans life, the amount of time you actually spend as “fruitful” and young is significantly less time than the rest of your life when you are not as vibrant and energetic. And just as the tree dies we eventually, “glide into the grave.”
I also like how the poet personifies the tree throughout the poem, for example in the first stanza, the last three lines almost seem as if he were talking of a young woman who is in his presence, stays a while and graces him with her beauty and smiles, then eventually goes home.
Unlike most other poems about nature, this one is sad. This poem has pleasant diction when referring to the beauty of the tree, yet when it refers to the death of the tree; the diction is significantly different and solemn.
safety first!!
A Chemistry Poem
Author: By: Bailey Gillespie
I’m reading a book by Jay Wile
That feels about as thick as a mile
It’s a chemistry course,
And reliable source,
I sure am enjoying his style.
The characteristics we see
Of chemicals in chemistry
Are works of God’s hand,
And part of His plan,
For the earth to function for me.
The way atoms all seem to dance
In molecules inside of plants
Is one of the ways,
God meant to amaze,
That couldn’t have happened by chance.
Experiment with metals like chrome
Experiment with mixtures like foam
Please try to have fun,
Clean up when you’re done,
I hope you don’t blow up your home!
This poem has a great flow, the rhyme scheme of :A,A,B,B,A, really makes it easy for the reader to “sing along” as they read. I also like the use of personification in the third stanza, “the way atoms all seem to dance, in molecules inside of plants”, Atoms are not dancing they just naturally move around. In the second and third stanzas, the narrator brings up a controversial issue of religion vs. science. In this poem, the narrator explains how they believe that both science and religion are linked, rather than one or the other. The narrator wants to stress the point that God created atoms, and that science is “His plan”, meaning that God meant for Chemistry to explain his works down to the smallest of creations, atoms.
In the last stanza of the poem, the narrator brings us back from this controversial issue and helps us draw our minds back to the more fun and interesting topics related to chemistry, the experiments. I also like how the poet keeps with the fun sing along type feel and in a playful manner reminds us of some of the most important rules in a chemistry lab. Clean work surfaces and safety. Although most experiments do not result in explosions, some do, and it is very important to remember to be safe and cautious when doing experiments.
Be yourself, its the best way
The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
In this poem, the “two roads diverged in a yellow wood”, represent decisions in the narrators life. As the narrator explains the two roads, it is very clear how different the two roads are from each other. The first road, more worn out, clearly had been traveled down before by others. The second road was grassier, indicating that there was not much travel, if any at all. Both of these roads only offered a limited view of their paths leaving the narrator to wonder what other obstacles might be on each road.
This poem relates to everyday life, and decision making for everyone. It is never perfectly clear what will come of any choice made in life. Sometimes you might regret the decision you make at first, but you will never know what the outcome will be unless you complete the journey on the road.
My favorite lines in this poem are the last four lines:
“Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
The narrator is looking back on his choice of roads and is proud of his decision, he is thinking that when he passes his story on to younger generations that they too will be proud of him for taking the lesser of the traveled roads. They will get inspired by the fact that it has made a difference in how he reflects back on this time in his life that many people can identify with.
I can personally relate to this poem, as many people can. Some of the choices I have made in life have not been the easiest to predict the outcome, and I have learned that sometimes taking the less obvious route can sometimes lead to better results. No one said that life was easy, life can definitely throw so mean curve balls but the important lesson to take from this poem is to think about the choices you have before you jump to a conclusion. Then once started down your chosen road, have confidence in yourself that you have done the right thing.
