This poem was very sad and touching for me. It talks about how a young couple feels after losing their son. This piece of work is a great example for portraying how genuine and strong the bond between parent and child can be. In lines 7-8 it says "Your cries and hunger document/ our bodily decay". This provides evidence that the parents are having difficulty dealing with their loss, and that having something so close to them slip away can "eat away" at you emotionally. The last stanza is also significant because it tells us, (the readers) that they are feeling like hypothetically, a piece of them has died along with their beloved child. The parents were just as reliant on the baby and the baby was on them. The joy and happiness that a child brings changes you and becomes a reason for living. Even though I'm not a parent, my parents have told me many times over the year that having kids was the best thing they ever did.
Parents dream about how their child will carry on their memories and make a life for them-self, carry on family traditions and whatnot. They see that even though they may die, they have the responsibility of providing the information needed so their children can carry those things after the parents die. So its as if the parents never die, their spirit lives on in their children. But these parents are watching those dreams and hopes die with the child. And in essence, they feel as though they are dying as well.
Design - by Robert Frost
I really liked this poem--It was, different. It was still somewhat linked to the theme of death that most of the poems we have studied did, but it was in a more mysterious and interesting context. I liked that it's theme wasn't as blunt as other pieces of work we have studied. Instead of words like "death, dying, die, die, die...", it was more like "kindred", "thither", "darkness". All words that helped the author create more suspense for his audience, leading up to what we all know was death for poor Mr. Moth, but still this poem forces you to brainstorm and idealize more openly.
Another aspect of the poem that I really liked was the "heal-all", which is a plant that usually has violet-blue flowers and is known as a source of healing. I enjoyed the symbol of the flower because it helped showed one of Frost's main themes of evil existing everywhere. You have this poor innocent flower who is, hypothetically speaking, is watching this innocent moth dying a slow painful death, and can't do anything about it.
I think Frost had a hidden meaning by the whole set-up of this poem as well. What I mean is, what kind of a coincidence would it be for all three things, the moth, spider, and flower to be in the same place, at the same time. I also think that Frost was trying to say that there is a higher power that overlooks every aspect of all of our lives. Either that or he just likes to torture my brain into trying to figure out what the hell he means. That, we will never know!
Eveline - by James Joyce
"Eveline" is a story about a girl who is trying to decide on weather to leave her home or not. She is stuck being staying home and taking care of her father and brothers, or fleeing into the night with the love of her life, Frank. Frank proposed to her and "she was about to explore another life with Frank". There was one catch though. Her mother made Eveline promise on her death bed that she would keep their home together as long as she could. This was the dilemma that Eveline kept going back to.
Turns out in the end she decides, even though she doesn't want too, respect and obey her late mother's wishes and stay home. She is sad to see her love go, but knows it is for the best.
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This reminds me of a certain encounter I had at a party once. My friends and I randomly ended up at a house party, by the time we got there it was pretty full and everyone was enjoying themselves (and their "kool-aid" of course!). Anyway, for some reason I was drawn to the corner of the room where this guy looked pretty relaxed like the "cool-kid" on the block. Around him was a poorly gathered line of people. I was intrigued, so like you would, I went to investigate. Turns out this guy was suggesting that he was a fortune teller and assured me he could predict my future. So me, trying to figure out if this guy was for real or not, temporarily plays along and asked for my future to be told. He was a complete stranger, didn't know my name, how old I was, or where I was from. My friends and I were all laughing and giggling at this mysterious person, thinking "what in the world is this guy on?". However, half way into my "reading", he became suddenly interesting in my "head line" (according to him). He noticed that I had a branch in mine. After some extra observing he says to me, "You don't know what you want to do with your life do you?". Catching me in the middle of a chuckle, I stopped. Sure I had a game plan the next few years and blah blah blah. But I could tell the way he was looking at me he didn't mean "right now", he meant the bigger picture. He then continues on saying that "in about 3-4 months (this party being in April), you are going to make a really big decision, weather it's the right one or wrong one it's up to you".
Now, in my mind, I knew that I was in my last year of high school, and that grad was coming up in May, and college plans and decisions were soon going to have to be made in the next few months. I assumed that this was the "big decision" he was speaking of was where I was going to move to for school, and how I will adjust to school. But how would this person, who doesn't know not one thing about me, have any idea about that? Call it luck, call it coincidence, hell; call me crazy, I actually believed he had a clue what he was talking about. It surprised me I must say.
My point with this story is I too have went through what Eveline is talking about. And I'm almost guaranteed a lot of other people have been too. In a moment of weakness, there is a thin line between the responsible thing to do, and the immature thing to do. Sure, I could have stayed home after high school, lived off my parents (actually, there is a better chance of me winning the lottery then my Dad letting me skip off College), and play video games all day and night. Sounds pretty sweet, right? But I knew, as did Eveline in her case, it wasn't the right thing to do.
At the end of the day, weather your mind tells you different, you know you made the right decision in your heart. If otherwise, you wouldn't have chose it!
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*Just a random picture I found on google of a palm reading diagram. Maybe it will clarify things for you, cause it don't for me! haha
A Worn Path - by Eudora Welty
This story is about a African-american woman named Phoenix Jackson. She was an older woman, but she definitely didn't let that stop her. She lived alone with her grandson, who was often sick. Phoenix would have to take a path for days in order to reach the hospital to get the medicine her grandson needed. She was such a devoted, caring, determined, and very dignified person. I found this refreshing because she never let where she came from or who she was to stand in the way of her loved ones. For example, during her journey on the worn path she encounters a hunter. As she is speaking to him, she noticed he drops a nickel. She is smart enough to distract the hunter so she can take it. "God watching me the whole time, I come to stealing", she quotes after the nickel was in her apron pocket. The hunter notices and point the gun at her. She doesn't even flinch. She isn't afraid of the gun because she has been through so much in her day that nothing surprises her. That is how devoted she is to her family.
You go girl!
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Once you actually think about it, and this might sound racist, but make no wonder African-american people reacted so well in all kinds of "life & death" situations. Back in the time this story was written, they were treated like pure dirt. They were threw around, sold back and forth, tortured, and god only knows what else; just because of the color of their skin. But they literally "rolled with the punches" because really they had no other choice. There was no such thing as individuality and/or personality in the African-american race at the time. It was either do what your told, don't get in anyone's way, and you'll have a better chance for surviving through the night.
It is so absurd to think about it now; thankfully society came to its senses and began to treat black people equally. :)
Death, Be Not Proud - by John Donne
In this post, I want to talk about one of the themes in this poem. Death. Death is obviously one of the bigger themes, but it's the way the speaker talked about death that made it so appealing. It refers to death as somewhat a good thing because it provides the "souls" with eternal life. Kind of like when people say, "They are in a better place now" or "At least they aren't suffering anymore". It's a way of showing remorse and comfort, which is what I think this poem's overall message is. When we are told these things we believe that our lost loved ones are gone to a better life, and they will forever be happy. This theme comes from how the poem talks about death. It consistently refers to death as a person. You can tell this by 1) "Death" has a capital D throughout the whole poem, same as a name would, and 2) Lines 1-2 state "Death, be not proud, thought some have called thee/ Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so". In other words it's saying, "Don't be proud of what you have done, because really you have accomplished nothing". It continues to read "Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me"
Let me tell you know, I am so afraid of death! I never want to die, and hate the fact that a life is ending almost every minute. I'm just so afraid of what will happen after, and I don't want to put my friends and families through such an experience. But when I read this poem, it gave me some peace of mind because according to this poem, "Death" will never win. When we die, we (as in our "souls"/"spirits" whatever you believe in) will still have eternity. This is something I also liked about this poem.
:)
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*Link to the text:
To Set Our House in Order - by Margaret Laurence
When I read this poem, I thought about the book "Stone Angel" which I read in my last year of high school. Ironically, both pieces were written by Margaret Laurence. . I noticed a few similarities in each story, like Grandmother MacLeod and Hagar for example. Both were elderly women who were very stubborn, proud, and refined. Hagar was haunted by the regrets of her past, and was trying to obtain closure. Marvin, her son that she lived with, and his wife was trying to get her to go in an old folks home. She was convinced that she can take care of herself and do all the things that she always wanted to do. Grandmother MacLeod was also proud and stubborn like Hagar because she always had things "just so" in her house. "God loves Order" is one of the quotes that she lived by. She always thought she knew best and was always right. Both of these women were independent, but also dependent because they depended on the people around them to do as they say. Grandmother MacLeod was always telling her daughter and granddaughter to clean up, and leave everything the way they left it, hence "House in Order". Hagar depended on Marvin and often guilted him into things she wanted him to do for her, either with the death of his brother, which she loved more than Marvin, and the death of his father. I wonder was it Laurence's intentions to link the two characters together?
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I did some research on Margaret Laurence. These are a few things I found interesting*:
1. "To Set Our House in Order" was actually chapter two of the novel "A Bird in the House".
2. Margaret Laurence was Canadian, born in 1926 and died in 1987.
3. "Her published works after The Stone Angel express the changing role of women's lives in the 1970s"
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*Reference Link:
To an Athlete Dying Young - by A. E. Housman
I can relate quite well with this poem. Throughout my life I have had many friends who had a passion for sports, more specifically, ball hockey. Ball hockey is a very popular sport in Charlottetown, along with the whole south coast of Labrador. There are a few specific people who come to mind that are unfortunately no longer with us. I'd like to briefly share the story of a couple of dear friends, because like this poem, their stories as athletes are glorious and has made them very memorable.
Damien (Damie) Burden (1989-2005), #44
Died in a snowmobile accident on December 29th, 2005 while riding with a drunk driver between Charlottetown and Pinsent's Arm. I had a very close relationship with Damien. We grew up as kids in the same town (Pinsent's Arm), and he was also my brothers best friend. There are two things that can sum up Damie; that's skidooing, and ball hockey. He absolutely LOVED hockey. Every tournament that was going on, weather it be 1, 2, or 3 hours away he would always be on a team, playing his heart out. He was one hell of a hockey player, and showed the most amount of sportsmanship every time he hit the floor. Unfortunately, his life ended way to short, but his legacy certainly did not. Since Damie's passing, about a year after, his parents, along with the help of Charlottetown and Pinsent's Arm, started a memorial tournament in Damie's name. The response was phenomenal. Teams gathered and traveled from miles away to participate in the Damien Burden Memorial Hockey Tournament, and still continue to do so every year. The tournament is great for everyone who attends, weather your playing on a team or not. To this day it is still a huge success, it's held around the second week of February.
Ryan (Ry) Russell (June 1991- May 2010), #33
Ryan died in a very tragic drowning on May 18th 2009 while in boat on the Churchill River in Goose Bay. Ryan and two of his other friends were in boat then went over the waterfall into Muskrat Falls. I was also very close to Ryan. In Charlottetown he lived about 2 houses up from me and we went to school together. Like Damien, Ryan played in many tournaments and was also a well respected ball hockey player. He played in goal for most of his athletic career, and was a magnificent one at that! He saved a lot of goals, and saved a lot of games. I remember one particular year Ryan and his team played in the Damien Burden Memorial, and every year there was a constant rival between Charlottetown and Cartwright for first and second. Charlottetown usually got silver, but this particular year there was something different. Everyone was determined to get that gold. In the championship game the clock was winding down, and Ryan was on fire. It was just this particular game he had fire in his eyes and in his heart. The clock buzzed, and the scoreboard was favoring Charlottetown. For the life of me I can't remember the score, but I can remember the feeling. It was an amazing feeling. There was a tingling in your chest that was so intense you felt weightless. It actually felt like slow motion, though it was quite opposite. The crowd was wild! It was because of Ryan they won that tournament. Being as modest guy that he was he would always say, "Go on byh's, we all did it". His kindness and modesty definitely changed the game to all that knew him.
There are another couple names I would like to mention. Justin Noel, (February 1991 - August 2009) also lived in Charlottetown and went to school with me, died by drowning in a pond near Forteau, Labrador. Also, Sheldon Clarke, (March 1976 - August 2009), also lived in Pinsent's Arm where I grew up, died by taking his own life. These men were also friends of mine, and were great hockey players.
My point with this is that this poem speaks about a young man who also died while still in his prime, especially when it came to his athletic abilities. One of the themes in this poem is that dying at the peak of one's success can be looked at as a victory, instead of a tragedy. That is exactly how I feel when I think about these wonderful athletes. Such a statement sums up the whole point of having a memorial tournament and remembering these young men as the glorious hockey players they were. It celebrates the life that they lived, as opposed to grieving and being so sad of the life that they didn't. This poem really "hits home" for me. It's exactly how I, and along with all the other people who lost a loved one, feel. That is such a powerful message that can be retrieved in a few stanzas, and is the reason why I connected to this poem so easily.
Damien (Damie) Burden (1989-2005), #44
Died in a snowmobile accident on December 29th, 2005 while riding with a drunk driver between Charlottetown and Pinsent's Arm. I had a very close relationship with Damien. We grew up as kids in the same town (Pinsent's Arm), and he was also my brothers best friend. There are two things that can sum up Damie; that's skidooing, and ball hockey. He absolutely LOVED hockey. Every tournament that was going on, weather it be 1, 2, or 3 hours away he would always be on a team, playing his heart out. He was one hell of a hockey player, and showed the most amount of sportsmanship every time he hit the floor. Unfortunately, his life ended way to short, but his legacy certainly did not. Since Damie's passing, about a year after, his parents, along with the help of Charlottetown and Pinsent's Arm, started a memorial tournament in Damie's name. The response was phenomenal. Teams gathered and traveled from miles away to participate in the Damien Burden Memorial Hockey Tournament, and still continue to do so every year. The tournament is great for everyone who attends, weather your playing on a team or not. To this day it is still a huge success, it's held around the second week of February.
Ryan (Ry) Russell (June 1991- May 2010), #33
Ryan died in a very tragic drowning on May 18th 2009 while in boat on the Churchill River in Goose Bay. Ryan and two of his other friends were in boat then went over the waterfall into Muskrat Falls. I was also very close to Ryan. In Charlottetown he lived about 2 houses up from me and we went to school together. Like Damien, Ryan played in many tournaments and was also a well respected ball hockey player. He played in goal for most of his athletic career, and was a magnificent one at that! He saved a lot of goals, and saved a lot of games. I remember one particular year Ryan and his team played in the Damien Burden Memorial, and every year there was a constant rival between Charlottetown and Cartwright for first and second. Charlottetown usually got silver, but this particular year there was something different. Everyone was determined to get that gold. In the championship game the clock was winding down, and Ryan was on fire. It was just this particular game he had fire in his eyes and in his heart. The clock buzzed, and the scoreboard was favoring Charlottetown. For the life of me I can't remember the score, but I can remember the feeling. It was an amazing feeling. There was a tingling in your chest that was so intense you felt weightless. It actually felt like slow motion, though it was quite opposite. The crowd was wild! It was because of Ryan they won that tournament. Being as modest guy that he was he would always say, "Go on byh's, we all did it". His kindness and modesty definitely changed the game to all that knew him.
There are another couple names I would like to mention. Justin Noel, (February 1991 - August 2009) also lived in Charlottetown and went to school with me, died by drowning in a pond near Forteau, Labrador. Also, Sheldon Clarke, (March 1976 - August 2009), also lived in Pinsent's Arm where I grew up, died by taking his own life. These men were also friends of mine, and were great hockey players.
My point with this is that this poem speaks about a young man who also died while still in his prime, especially when it came to his athletic abilities. One of the themes in this poem is that dying at the peak of one's success can be looked at as a victory, instead of a tragedy. That is exactly how I feel when I think about these wonderful athletes. Such a statement sums up the whole point of having a memorial tournament and remembering these young men as the glorious hockey players they were. It celebrates the life that they lived, as opposed to grieving and being so sad of the life that they didn't. This poem really "hits home" for me. It's exactly how I, and along with all the other people who lost a loved one, feel. That is such a powerful message that can be retrieved in a few stanzas, and is the reason why I connected to this poem so easily.
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All four of these fine men who left this earth too soon now are remembered by a showing of jerseys with their hockey numbers in our local Gym. They have made a great impact on every life they touched, and I miss them so dearly. Gone, but never forgotten.
Eleanor Rigby - by John Lennon & Paul McCartney
This poem/song made me feel sympathetic. Not sympathetic for Eleanor Rigby or Father McKenzie, because they are obviously fictional characters, but for the people in the world like Eleanor Rigby and Father McKenzie. People who feel lonely and unhappy with their lives, and didn't get the time to change it. Take Eleanor Rigby for example, she worked in the church and lived "in a dream". She hoped and dreamed of a better life, one more fulfilling. What happens? She died still alone and still unnoticed. Father McKenzie on the other hand was also a lonely man, he was the priest at the church where Eleanor worked. He wrote sermons all the time, but for who? No one ever showed up.
For me, this poem also raised a lot of questions. In my experience, life is what you make of it. If you don't like something, change it! It is actually that simple believe it or not. You are the only one to blame if you are walking around unhappy with your life. So what I don't understand is if Eleanor and Father McKenzie was as depressed as the poem made them seem to be, why in the world didn't they do something about it? Why would someone go that long being wistful and not even try to do anything about it? How would you be able to do that? Sure it's not an easy thing, but sometimes life surprises you and can be very rewarding with a bit of effort. Talk to someone, make a friend, smell the roses, look at something from a different perspective, etc. These are small things that one can do to make their day a little more enjoyable, to open your mind and see there is life out there, somewhere! Sounds a lot better than dying alone if you ask me. The poem keeps repeating "All the lonely people,/Where do they all come from?/All the lonely people,/ Where do they all belong?", that's a very good question. In my opinion, there shouldn't be such a thing. Sure there is times when people feel lonely and bummed out, but to live like that everyday is just preposterous when there is so much out there undiscovered.
My advice to people like Eleanor Rigby and Father McKenzie would be to just live. By live I mean do whatever you want to do, listen to your heart, live, laugh, and love. "The world is your oyster", so go out and make a trademark for yourself! At the end of the day, you are you and no one can take that away from you.
So the real question is, who are you?
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*LINKS:
*LINKS:
Eleanor Rigby Music Video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Dsz4dB6DuM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Dsz4dB6DuM
"My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun" - by William Shakespeare
When first reading this poem, I didn't really understand what exactly the author was trying to say. I mean, lets be honest, the diction used back in Shakespeare's day is never easy to read. But after we analyzed and discussed the themes, symbols, diction, and the significance of some quotes in class, it made much more sense! Basically, this poem revolves around a man (in this case, the speaker of the poem) and his wife. His wife is reflected on as an ugly, dull, not very attractive woman. She is referred to have pale lips and cheeks, dun breasts, dark stringy hair, bad breath, etc. Aside from all that, the speaker in this poem still has a devoted love to this woman. This is why I like the poem so much, because despite the negative comparisons towards this woman, she still has that one person who looks past all that and gets to know the person under. This poem is all about rooting for the "underdog".
It's a classic love story really; something like beauty and the beast (the Joesph Jacobs version, not Disney's, though they are along the same lines). In beauty in the beast, the youngest daughter out of three was forced to live with the beast because her father picked a rose from his garden. She agreed to this because she didn't want harm on her dear father, so somewhat willingly, she spent her days seeing and talking to the beast. Eventually, she began to enjoy the beasts' company. Then one day the beast didn't show up for dinner on time, the girl was worried about the beast, so she went to look for him. She found him behind the garden "huddled up without any life or motion". The girl was devastated! She quickly remembered all the kindness and affection the best had shown her, while declaring her love for the beast, "the hide of the beast split in two and out came the most handsome young prince who told her that he had been enchanted by a magician and that he could not recover his natural form unless a maiden should, of her own accord, declare that she loved him."
Comparing these two stories together, we can plainly see that no matter what kind of physical description you may entail, that doesn't make you the person you are on the inside. The foils in both these stories are examples of a small number of people who don't care what he/she looks like, but loves them for who they are, making their stories refreshing; and their messages too important to pass!
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Some of my favorite quotes in, "My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun" are:
- "I love to hear her speak, yet well I know/ That music hath a far more pleasing sound."
- "My mistress when she walks, threads on the ground/ And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare".
This tells me that he knows his wife isn't "all that" but he loves her against all odds. Call me crazy, but I believe their love for each other make up for any physical looks she lacks!
*Just a couple links you might be interested in:
1. My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun (Sonnet 130) - by William Shakespeare
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15557
2. Beauty and the Beast - by Joesph Jacobs
http://www.surlalunefairytales.com/authors/jacobs/european/beautybeast.html
It's a classic love story really; something like beauty and the beast (the Joesph Jacobs version, not Disney's, though they are along the same lines). In beauty in the beast, the youngest daughter out of three was forced to live with the beast because her father picked a rose from his garden. She agreed to this because she didn't want harm on her dear father, so somewhat willingly, she spent her days seeing and talking to the beast. Eventually, she began to enjoy the beasts' company. Then one day the beast didn't show up for dinner on time, the girl was worried about the beast, so she went to look for him. She found him behind the garden "huddled up without any life or motion". The girl was devastated! She quickly remembered all the kindness and affection the best had shown her, while declaring her love for the beast, "the hide of the beast split in two and out came the most handsome young prince who told her that he had been enchanted by a magician and that he could not recover his natural form unless a maiden should, of her own accord, declare that she loved him."
Comparing these two stories together, we can plainly see that no matter what kind of physical description you may entail, that doesn't make you the person you are on the inside. The foils in both these stories are examples of a small number of people who don't care what he/she looks like, but loves them for who they are, making their stories refreshing; and their messages too important to pass!
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Some of my favorite quotes in, "My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun" are:
- "I love to hear her speak, yet well I know/ That music hath a far more pleasing sound."
- "My mistress when she walks, threads on the ground/ And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare".
This tells me that he knows his wife isn't "all that" but he loves her against all odds. Call me crazy, but I believe their love for each other make up for any physical looks she lacks!
*Just a couple links you might be interested in:
1. My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun (Sonnet 130) - by William Shakespeare
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15557
2. Beauty and the Beast - by Joesph Jacobs
http://www.surlalunefairytales.com/authors/jacobs/european/beautybeast.html
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