Poetry Class

    This is my last post in regards to my Modern American Poetry class, though I do think I will continue to post for my own enjoyment. For my final post I think I will do things a little bit different. I will post about my class instead of one of the poets that I have read.
      I joined the class because I needed to fill an elective and I have always enjoyed poetry. I was looking for a class that would be easy and something I could focus little attention to. Though my I did not expect much from the class, I find that at the end of the semester, it is the class I will miss the most. There are several reasons for this change of attitude and I would like to share some of them with you.
     First, the professor made the class fun. He gains an indescribable excitement when discussing the poets and their works, which honestly made me realize that I did not like poetry as much as I thought. The professor's ability to engage the poem in a way that represents what the author's purpose is, and to do this easily, impressed me. The professor then would lead us (students) to begin to grasp a better understanding of the author's intent in writing the poem. Where I used to just read the poem and enjoy it for rhyme and rhythm, he taught me to slow, put the poem into my own words and find what emotions were held within the words of the poem. This ability to understand the poem better has made me actually enjoy poetry. I now respect the words and writers.
     Second, my fellow classmates, through discussion and their own blogs, gave me different viewpoints to read the poems in. I got to hear how others interacted with the read poems, which also helped me in better understand the poems. I can only read poems through my past experiences, through my thought process, and through my understanding; hearing someone else's personal reflection of the text is wonderful in the fact that it allows me to experience the text through emotions I would not normally be able to experience it with. To those who are in my class and may read this, I truly enjoyed being in class with you and I thank you for sharing your thoughts, they have helped me a lot. I also want to address that I said some things regarding some poems that may have left you scratching your head (my comments on Muriel Rukeyser's Mearl Blankenship probably is my best example of this). I did this at times just to get conversation going when things were a little slow, I apologize.
      Third, this class made me want to write  again. I used to write poetry all the time (looking back most were not very good), now I feel like taking pen to paper again and just letting the words flow onto the page like "something like wave after wave that breaks on the beach" (Rukeyser's Poem White Page White Page Poem). I have no intention of ever being published again (yes, I was published once), but maybe someone will come across a poem that I might post on this blog and actually enjoy it.
     These are just a few things I walk away with from this class. I have grown to actually enjoy poetry and the people who write them. So let the last words that I post in regards to this class be said to my professor and my fellow classmates, Thank You.

The Many Confessions of a Poet

             Sylvia Plath is indeed a remarkable poet. In her poem, Lady Lazarus, Plath completely blows my mind with the raw pain and internal suffering that she is able to communicate. With her marriage falling apart and a past of emotional breakdowns haunting her, she is able to let the reader into her desire to rise above these setbacks in her life. Just like the Phoenix, she will rise out of her own ashes and be stronger than she was before. But is it all in vain? She states that this is her third attempt to be reborn, if the first two did not work, will this time be different?

            This is a perfect example of poetry flowing from life. We are not supposed to read her life into the poems, but it is hard not to when this poem was written only months before her suicide. Plath was a brilliant writer, and in this poem, she uses her brilliance to try and pursued her readers and possibly even herself that she was going to overcome her struggles. Sadly it was not the case.

            Her use of imagery from Nazi WWII treatment of the Jews gives a great description of how torn inside she truly was. Some of the images she mentions are painful to read and makes it hard to grasp how evil man can be. With work as moving as this, one can only question what could have come if she lived, and what may not have come if she was not so torn inside.

Frederick Seidel’s Mount Street Gardens is a confessional poem as Plath’s, just not near as dark and infused with some humor. This is a simple poem which talks about how a man has watched his little town grow into a big city that is more flashy and fancy than he ever wanted it to be. He reminisces about the old ways that he truly loved and speaks of some of the changes that have taken place, and now the only enjoyment he gets when visiting is sitting on a park bench in the garden that is hidden behind all of the growth.                                                                                               http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/244422

The Sweet and the Sad and Sweet

          Elizabeth Bishop’s Man-Moth is amazing! There is everything one wants in a poem (or a story for that matter), mystery, darkness, sadness, a hope that can never be fulfilled, and all of it lies in a character that has a genuinely gentle heart. If you have read any of my other posts you know I enjoy the darker creepy stuff, I think it plays more to the imagination, which entails allows your emotions to become more subjective to the poem itself.

            I may be reading more into this poem than what is actually there, but I think this poem tells the lives of many people, even if those people do not accept it. First we have a man who chooses to remain hidden by living in the underground tunnels. How often do we choose to keep thoughts and emotions hidden from those around us, we bury our burdens deep inside so others will not have to be bothered. There have probably been a few occasion when one chooses to actually open up and reveal what is going on inside and it ends up not working out as planned and just like the Moth-Man one ends up falling on their back. When this fall takes place, the person who has fallen ends up going back into their hiding place, alone and sad.

            Given this is not an image most want to look at in themselves, but it is there. That is why Bishop’s use of imagery is so great in this poem, it taps into an emotional side that most try to avoid, yet gives so much character. I just want to give the Moth-Man a hug to tell you the truth. On a secondary note, I enjoy cryptozoology and this story reminded me of the Mothman mystery that took place in West Virginia about fifty years ago.

            Ron Padgett’s  The Love Cook is nothing like Bishop’s aforementioned poem, this poem is simple and tells of a person who is willing to care for and cook for the person they love who has been gone for most of the day. It is simple and sweet.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/179241