Bastard Glue and Compromised Morals...

I've been neglecting the 'ol blog. Here's a couple poems. The first is the assignment from last Thursday. The second one I wrote with inspiration from some jerk I know and I probably would have brought it to the line-break workshop if I had been there. Also, I think I've created a new word: "gullibize"

Bastard Glue
My parents never knew what hit them.
Compressed into a coupling, an arranged marriage
Not in a traditional sense, by actions of their parents
But of their own, eager progeny
Who had yet to be, prescribed unexpectedly.
If they could see their golden years, perhaps
Their eagerness would wane. Perhaps
The rapid production of children would cease.
Perhaps the long hiatus, different cities, divorce
Would have remained just that.
I could have easily never been but for
The resumption of production, the reunion,
and the subsequent move.
I am the bastard glue

Morals Compromised
I can see it in his eyes
that look of moral compromise
they glint and glare they squeeze and slide
those eyes of moral compromise
On her back a burning light
the glare of unjust appetites
his life's story, assorted lies
one can hear his morals compromised
She all her life was gullibized
and you can see it in her eyes
all his charm, his wit, his guile
her nervous face, predation smile and
I can see it in his eyes
His intent to terrorize.

Poetry Assignment III

I like the way the Atwood describes her heart in a literal, visceral sense as opposed to the traditional rounded symbol of love. She makes the heart seem disgusting, especially with the lines: "wetblack and glimmering / their four mouths gulping like fish." She goes on to recognize that her heart is different form other's, more fickle and often contradicting itself. The poem comes to a close with Atwood implies that she has stopped trying to please her heart, that it is insatiable, and it will be a relief when it stops beating.

"Homage to My Hips" paints the image of a large, confident woman, powerful in her self-respect. Its obvious she doesn't care about what others think (and maybe even has some prejudice against smaller women) when she says in this assonant phrase, "they don't fit into little / petty places." The poem really shows how important self confidence can be and what it is capable of in the hands of a woman.

Poetry Assignment II

I had trouble today with finding a common thread between the readings. I want to say there is a common theme of creation, but its tenuous. "Loading a Boar" is a stream of consciousness poem about a particular person's creative (or not so creative) process. The moral of the story is really just what we've all heard a hundred times: write what you know.

"I Go Back to May 1937" was pretty dark. The language is very interesting because it is describing these young, innocent, beautiful college students but it does it in such a way that the feeling is one of ominous foreshadowing of a potentially bright future that will lead to a cruel life; it's very bitter in this way. The point of view is also strange, its as if the daughter of these doomed college students has some sort of control over her parents choices and even though she knows their lives will be sad and dark (as will her own) she still almost greedily chooses to "force" her parents to mate and have her. Her purpose in this seems to be a creative one in that she chooses to live in order that she can tell of her parents woe and use it as her muse.

"A Dog Has Died" is a eulogy for a simple beast. As a dog owner, I can relate. Some people try to attach these human qualities to their dogs but in this regard the author is a realist; his dog is simple, living happily, living simply. A silent companion who did no more than needed, just reminding the owner that he was, in fact, a dog. It's interesting though that even though the author is himself not religious and not a believer in a human "heaven", he does see his dog in dog-heaven, a place he will never enter, where his dog forever waits for him, tail wagging. I think his creation of this dog-heaven is a result of his feelings about his own negligence and his vanity. (I'm stretching here)

"DNA" creates an image of a child  playing with toothpicks and cardboard and glue, so close to culminating in the creation of the double-helix. The child is James Watson and he double-helix is, of course, DNA. It's really elegant the way the lines unfold, creating imagery of a form changing fluidly, striving to find the right shape. Its so achingly anticipatory, and the overall shape of the poem stanza by stanza is so beautifully symmetrical. The language is at once scientific, mathematical, religious, restless and fertile.

 My dog Ellie, who doesn't behave nearly as well as Pablo's dog.

Edit: In retrospect, the heading for our assignment "ideas/subjects for poetry and gaining insight" should give a jumping off point for finding themes...

In-class Assignment

Tiller

Roaring, rattling

Bucking wild

Uprooting life

Tines tangled with it

Tormenting the ground

Spinning holes for tines to turn

And fill again

Poetry Assignment I

I found that all the poems in this first assignment except for "Kitchen Maid" really challenged what poetry is or should be or how it should be interpreted. For instance, at first glance [so much depends] looks like something a child is capable of. It's a choppy, simplistic, vague poem. After looking at it a little deeper though, it becomes apparent how much imagery is captured in these short lines, and how much tension and anxiety can be created with simple imagery and the initial suggestion of reliance on the object of focus. It leaves one sincerely wondering what depends so heavily upon this wheelbarrow.

"Introduction to Poetry" likewise challenges the way one is supposed to experience poetry. He explains that poetry is meant to be experienced in ones own way and not necessarily meant to be studied and violently probed for meaning and intention. I particularly enjoyed the lines: "or walk inside the poem's room / and feel the walls for a light switch." It's such a weird, unique way to describe the way he wants people to experience poetry. It has the implication that one should blindly grope for meaning in the darkness of the poem. I feel like in this instance, scholarly study of a poem would be considered using a flashlight to find the switch and illuminate the room.

I really enjoyed "Photographs of the Interiors of Dictator's Houses". It was humorous and ridiculous and was like a caricature of a dictator's home, but I personally wouldn't really consider it poetry without hearing it read by the poet. The poem itself is entirely in non-metered, non-rhyming prose and with the exception of very few instances, I had a very hard time finding any sort of rhythm to the language. This would have had the exact same impact on me if it had been written in paragraph form. My favorite lines? "Of course the scepter is gold, but the horns / on the mounted stag head: do they need to be glided? / Yes..."

"Kitchen Maid with Supper at Emmaus, of The Mulata" is an entirely different sort of poem. First of all, it is descriptive of a work by another artist and the description is incredible. The metaphor comparing the Mulata to the mortar and pestle was my favorite bit, or maybe the description of her shadow as a bloody thumbprint on the wall. Before I even looked up the picture I had an image in my head of what it looked like that was very similar to the actuality. I've never thought of the use of poetry as a way to modernize a piece of artwork hundreds of years old, but that it exactly what this poem did. It made a painting I would never have looked at twice more relevant to me. I feel like every painting in a museum should have a companion poem. (Kidding)

Introduction

Hi, I'm Pierce. This will be my first experience with blogging. I'm glad the blogs aren't restricted strictly to posts for class and that we can post other bits of writing we find interesting... It should make it a little more fun and, I'm sure, a little more interesting to peruse.

Here is a bit of reading by actor Chris Cooper of Walt Whitman's Song of Myself from a PBS documentary... I remember watching this one time and the only reason I was able to find it to post on here is because I recognized the guys voice. Anyways, this is a great reading and gave me shivers the first time I heard it. It also gave me a better idea of how to read poetry.