This poem tells the story of a woman who is trying to keep varmints from eating her crops and potentially taking food from her and her family's table. The woman starts by trying to gas the woodchucks but when that doesn't work she develops a blood lust and does on a shooting rampage to end the lives of the woodchucks.
"If only they'd all consented to die unseen
gassed underground the quiet Nazi way."
These last two lines stir a little controversy with readers. The line references to the mass extermination of the Holocaust and some people find it a tasteless and inappropriate way to end the poem. I agree that yes, it brings up startling images, and yes it is a pretty harsh way to state the thought, however it gets the point across vividly. This woman wanted these woodchucks dead. She would have much rather have not seen them die, but they refused to succumb to the gas so she took matters into her own hands. The reference to the Holocaust just emphasizes the fact that this woman was pushed way past her breaking point with these woodchucks. She was no longer thinking rationally and could only wish death upon these creatures. I believe that during the Holocaust many Nazis were the same way, not thinking rationally. I digress.
"I a lapsed pacifist fallen from grace"
"the murderer inside me rose up hard"
There was not one hint of pacifism in this poem. If at one point this farmer was actually a pacifist something drove her from her sanity and pushed her to throw her beliefs to the wind and embrace violence wholeheartedly.
The woman talks about sighting down the barrel and staring at the face of the young woodchuck. This personification strengthens the argument that she was seeing these small creatures as enemies. The woodchucks were the nemesis of this poor disturbed farm-woman. Perhaps she has been spraying a few too many chemicals on her crops. Perhaps she breathed in a little too much of the poison when she attempted gassing the woodchucks. I do not know the reason that she snapped and went on a Columbinesque killing spree, shooting to kill any varmint spotted near her garden. But I do know that something was definitely a little off kilter in this woman's psyche.
Hopefully now that this evil incarnate is all but driven back the woman will go back to being a peaceful farmer. And hopefully the "old wily fellow" takes the hint and jumps ship. A few broccoli shoots and carrots are certainly not worth risking life and limb. There will hopefully be greener pastures on the horizon for both of the remaining characters in this poem.
Friday, October 14, 2011
"Snake" by D.H. Lawerence
"You write "Born to Kill" on your helmet and you wear a peace button. What's that supposed to be, some kind of sick joke?"
"No, sir."
"You'd better get your head and your ass wired together, or I will [expletive]."
"Yes, sir."
"Now answer my question or you'll be standing tall before the man."
"I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of man, sir." --- Full Metal Jacket
I believe that this quote sums this poem up nicely.
The man in this poem is in awe of the snake that comes to drink from his trough. He liked the snake but felt a strange compulsion to destroy it. Why would you destroy something you enjoy?
"The voice of my education said to me
He must be killed."
"If you were a man
You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off."
This once again references back to some of my previous entries about the expectations of society. What sort of a man doesn't kill a snake at his watering trough, his village would ask. Was he afraid of the snake? Does he want someone to be bitten and possibly killed by the snake? Why did he not kill the snake? In this man's world snakes are evil and are to be killed. Yet, this man is in awe of the snake. He was honored to have this magnificent specimen pacifying it's quenched pallet at his water trough.
Although this man seemed to enjoy gazing at the snake, although he seemed to enjoy its company, the teachings of society shamed him into action.
"I put down my pitcher,
I picked up a clumsy log
And threw it at the water-trough with a clatter."
The duality of man kicking in. On one hand he was honored to have the snake in his presence, but on the other he felt the need to attempt to end it's life. The man waited until the snake had turned it's back on him before he acted. Was this just another form of cowardice from the man? He cowardly caved into the thoughts from his neighbors and his voice of his education. He could not even face the snake to attempt to kill it. He did not want the snake to know that society has forced him to despise snakes, to loathe snakes! He cowardly threw a log toward the area where the snake was previously at. This was either a weak attempt at killing the snake or a weak attempt at being able to save some face with his friends and neighbors. Either situation boils down to the fact that this man is a coward, too afraid to stand up to the snake if he wanted to kill it, and too afraid to stand up to his society if he did not want to.
"And immediately I regretted it."
Of course he regretted it, he realized what I have been explaining. This "man" does not have the courage to stand up for himself and his beliefs, and therefore does not deserve the title of "a man."
"No, sir."
"You'd better get your head and your ass wired together, or I will [expletive]."
"Yes, sir."
"Now answer my question or you'll be standing tall before the man."
"I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of man, sir." --- Full Metal Jacket
I believe that this quote sums this poem up nicely.
The man in this poem is in awe of the snake that comes to drink from his trough. He liked the snake but felt a strange compulsion to destroy it. Why would you destroy something you enjoy?
"The voice of my education said to me
He must be killed."
"If you were a man
You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off."
This once again references back to some of my previous entries about the expectations of society. What sort of a man doesn't kill a snake at his watering trough, his village would ask. Was he afraid of the snake? Does he want someone to be bitten and possibly killed by the snake? Why did he not kill the snake? In this man's world snakes are evil and are to be killed. Yet, this man is in awe of the snake. He was honored to have this magnificent specimen pacifying it's quenched pallet at his water trough.
Although this man seemed to enjoy gazing at the snake, although he seemed to enjoy its company, the teachings of society shamed him into action.
"I put down my pitcher,
I picked up a clumsy log
And threw it at the water-trough with a clatter."
The duality of man kicking in. On one hand he was honored to have the snake in his presence, but on the other he felt the need to attempt to end it's life. The man waited until the snake had turned it's back on him before he acted. Was this just another form of cowardice from the man? He cowardly caved into the thoughts from his neighbors and his voice of his education. He could not even face the snake to attempt to kill it. He did not want the snake to know that society has forced him to despise snakes, to loathe snakes! He cowardly threw a log toward the area where the snake was previously at. This was either a weak attempt at killing the snake or a weak attempt at being able to save some face with his friends and neighbors. Either situation boils down to the fact that this man is a coward, too afraid to stand up to the snake if he wanted to kill it, and too afraid to stand up to his society if he did not want to.
"And immediately I regretted it."
Of course he regretted it, he realized what I have been explaining. This "man" does not have the courage to stand up for himself and his beliefs, and therefore does not deserve the title of "a man."
"Elegy for Alfred Hubbard" by Tory Conner
Much can be deciphered about this old plumber named Alfred Hubbard from this poem. Alfred Hubbard was a plumber, a bad plumber.
rules of thumb which were often wrong"
How did Mr. Hubbard stay in business for so long if he was so poor at his craft? Seventy years of shoddy plumbing! But even after seventy years of sub-par work Mr. Hubbard still had people knocking on his door looking for his services. This alone speaks volumes for the character of the man that was once known as Alfred Hubbard. Mr. Hubbard must have had quite the personality and charm to stay in business for so long.
"Seventy years of gossip muttered"
This is a good indicator of why people liked him so much. Humans are nosy creatures. People would like to know what is going on in their neighborhood, especially if spoken behind closed doors. Knowing one's neighbors personal affairs or business may be advantageous to the right individual. I believe that most people love hearing gossip, especially bad gossip, is because it makes one feel better about his or her own life to know that people they know are doing worse. It is a sad trait, but a human trait none the less. I am not saying that people revel in the misery of others, but it is just something that you could look at and think to yourself, "Hey, at least I'm not that guy."
There is great irony in this poem. At the beginning I had assumed that Alfred was a superb plumber.
"No other like him"
This line made me think that he was top-notch. However, later in the poem, you realize that perhaps this was not the way it was meant to be taken. There was no other like Mr. Hubbard because it would seem that no other person could be so poor at his craft yet still have clients.
It makes me wonder, how shall this town fare without its town crier? Will the residents take to the other plumber, Thwaite, the way they enjoyed Mr. Hubbard's work/company?
"and the housewife banging his front-door knocker
is not surprised to find him gone,
and runs for Thwaite, who's a better worker,
and sticks at a job until it's done."
Yes, Thwaite may be a better worker, and may also finish the entire job. But will this be enough to satisfy the townspeople? Will the townspeople grow tired of the mechanically working Thwaite and long for the slow murmur of Alfred Hubbard? Or will the citizens be pleasantly surprised at the deftness and skill which Thwaite plumbs? Will the memory of Alfred Hubbard fade into the grave his body is now buried in, or will it be seared into the brain as a loose-lipped confidant that people yearn to have back? Only time shall tell.
"but who will challenge his squint-eyed looks
in kitchen, bathroom, under floorboards,rules of thumb which were often wrong"
How did Mr. Hubbard stay in business for so long if he was so poor at his craft? Seventy years of shoddy plumbing! But even after seventy years of sub-par work Mr. Hubbard still had people knocking on his door looking for his services. This alone speaks volumes for the character of the man that was once known as Alfred Hubbard. Mr. Hubbard must have had quite the personality and charm to stay in business for so long.
"Seventy years of gossip muttered"
This is a good indicator of why people liked him so much. Humans are nosy creatures. People would like to know what is going on in their neighborhood, especially if spoken behind closed doors. Knowing one's neighbors personal affairs or business may be advantageous to the right individual. I believe that most people love hearing gossip, especially bad gossip, is because it makes one feel better about his or her own life to know that people they know are doing worse. It is a sad trait, but a human trait none the less. I am not saying that people revel in the misery of others, but it is just something that you could look at and think to yourself, "Hey, at least I'm not that guy."
There is great irony in this poem. At the beginning I had assumed that Alfred was a superb plumber.
"No other like him"
This line made me think that he was top-notch. However, later in the poem, you realize that perhaps this was not the way it was meant to be taken. There was no other like Mr. Hubbard because it would seem that no other person could be so poor at his craft yet still have clients.
It makes me wonder, how shall this town fare without its town crier? Will the residents take to the other plumber, Thwaite, the way they enjoyed Mr. Hubbard's work/company?
"and the housewife banging his front-door knocker
is not surprised to find him gone,
and runs for Thwaite, who's a better worker,
and sticks at a job until it's done."
Yes, Thwaite may be a better worker, and may also finish the entire job. But will this be enough to satisfy the townspeople? Will the townspeople grow tired of the mechanically working Thwaite and long for the slow murmur of Alfred Hubbard? Or will the citizens be pleasantly surprised at the deftness and skill which Thwaite plumbs? Will the memory of Alfred Hubbard fade into the grave his body is now buried in, or will it be seared into the brain as a loose-lipped confidant that people yearn to have back? Only time shall tell.
"What the Motorcycle Said" by Mona Van Duyn
This poem is about a motorcycle and a lifestyle. This poem is a fantastic use of a different persona. The persona in this poem is a motorcycle, not the rider, not an onlooker nor an omnipresent voice. The motorcycle is speaking to you, the reader. The motorcycles is trying to explain just how badass it is.
"Br-r-am-m-m. It’s Nowsville, man. Passed Oldies, Uglies,
Straighties, Honkies. I’ll never be 20
Mean, tired or unsexy."
The motorcycle is living in the present. It is not worried about the past nor what tomorrow will bring. Living in the present is something that I believe many people overlook and take for granted. Everyone walks around worrying about that big exam they had in class yesterday or the big exam they are taking tomorrow morning, but people do not take enough time to enjoy the present. This somewhat relates back to my last post talking about the simple greed of human society. People are too worried about what is going to happen and do not take enough time to appreciate what is happening. When was the last time you woke up before sunrise and actually enjoyed watching the dawn break? When was the last time took a risk or made what would seem like a questionable decision? The reason that people are likely stay on the straight and narrow is because they are worried about future repercussions due to their actions. While it is understandable in some ways that people do not take risks or do not just slow down to enjoy everyday things it is somewhat depressing and definitely unfortunate.
"Br-r-r-am-m-m, rackety-am-m, OM, Am:
All—gr-r-in, oooohgah, gl-l-utton—
Am, the world’s my smilebutton." 30
This poem also uses a lot on onomatopoeia. The noises that a motorcycle would make while revving its engine or roaring down the road are written into this poem to give the reader a greater sense of the raw power, boldness, and ferocity that this motorcycle speaks and also acts with. Everyone know what a motorcycle sounds like and actually making the noises the motorcycle makes is fun but also gives you a greater connection to the words that the motorcycle is saying.
The opening stanza refers to "the world's my oyster" this is felt to be true while reading this poem and is backed up with the actions and thoughts of the motorcycle. In the final line seen above the motorcycle refers to the world as his smilebutton. This goes along with the fact that the motorcycle is living for now and enjoying every second of it. Many people do not approach life in the sense, the carpe diem attitude seems to be wavering and shrinking with each generation. People are too worried about appearances or the thoughts of others to actually go out and do something for themselves without caring who is watching or judging. I believe that my generation as well as the generations younger than myself are too wrapped up in making sure that they are "cool" than being wrapped up in making themselves happy. If I am enjoying myself I could care less if my peers, or anyone else for that matter, approve of what I am doing. If you feel passionate about something then pursue it! I know many of my friends will not dance when we go out to clubs because there are not many people on the dance floor or they aren't very good at it. Who cares? Make yourself happy and forget the rest. People these days are too shy and too worried about embarrassing themselves. What is embarrassment exactly? A feeling created by society to shame you for something that may not be the norm, or the feeling that you "hope nobody saw that." Who cares if someone "saw that?" Why are people so worried about trying to make a good impression on people, especially people they do not know? If anything people need to start living their lives as if they are the ones that people should be trying to make a good impression on, and stop worrying if they are making a good impression on other people.
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