Dreams in the Dusk Carl Sandburg
Analysis: Much like Sandburg's other poem, subway, I feel this poem talks very much about the American way of life. The part in this poem "closing of the day and with the day's close going back to the gray things" speaks measure. This piece says that after everyday when you are going home to your drab life, you will dream and hope for a better life. Although you will most likely never achieve these dreams. While Sandburg's poems are dark I do enjoy them very much, they are not confusing, and their meanings are clear.
Dreams in the dusk, Only dreams closing the day And with the day's close going back To the gray things, the dark things, The far, deep things of dreamland. Dreams, only dreams in the dusk, Only the old remembered pictures Of lost days when the day's loss Wrote in tears the heart's loss. Tears and loss and broken dreams May find your heart at dusk.
Subway Carl SandburgAnalysis: This poem is very brief but talks a lot about the American ways. We assume that Sandburg is talking about New York, a city with an amazing subway system. The subway is dark and dreary, Sandburg sets the scene by saying: walls of shadow, hunger voices, worn, and hunched and humble. To me the two that speak out the most are worn and hunched and humble, that the commute and work has beaten down on the commuters. I enjoyed this poem and its message about the public.Down between the walls of shadow Where the iron laws insist, The hunger voices mock.The worn wayfaring men With the hunched and humble shoulders, Throw their laughter into toil.
The Pike Theodore Roethke
Analysis: This poem is a poem that I felt was able to set the scene in a magnificent way. Roethke used such powerful description to show the reader just how still and perfect the pond was, up until the pike strikes. The pool was not even extraordinarily beautiful, but the way Roethke described it made the reader feel a little uneasy when the pike disturbed it.
The river turns,
Leaving a place for the eye to rest,
A furred, a rocky pool,
A bottom of water.
The crabs tilt and eat, leisurely,
And the small fish lie, without shadow, motionless,
Or drift lazily in and out of the weeds.
The bottom-stones shimmer back their irregular striations,
And the half-sunken branch bends away from the gazer's eye.
A scene for the self to abjure!-
And I lean, almost into the water,
My eye always beyond the surface reflection;
I lean, and love these manifold shapes,
Until, out from a dark cove,
From beyond the end of a mossy log,
With one sinuous ripple, then a rush,
A thrashing-up of the whole pool
The pike strikes.
A Boy Juggling a Soccer Ball Christopher Merrill
Analysis: I enjoyed this poem very much, Merrill painted an elaborate scene of such a simple act, bouncing a soccer ball around. One of my favorite lines of the entire poem was "down the inside of his leg, like a tickle of sweat," it truly showed how the ball and the player were one person, giving the ball qualities of nature. The poem shows how dedicated this player is to success, when he did not succeed, he kept pushing on and on.
after practice: right foot
to left foot, stepping forward and back,
to right foot and left foot,
and left foot up to his thigh, holding
it on his thigh as he twists
around in a circle, until it rolls
down the inside of his leg,
like a tickle of sweat, not catching
and tapping on the soft
side of his foot, and juggling
once, twice, three times,
hopping on one foot like a jump-roper
in the gym, now trapping
and holding the ball in midair,
balancing it on the instep
of his weak left foot, stepping forward
and forward and back, then
lifting it overhead until it hangs there;
and squaring off his body,
he keeps the ball aloft with a nudge
of his neck, heading it
from side to side, softer and softer,
like a dying refrain,
until the ball, slowing, balances
itself on his hairline,
the hot sun and sweat filling his eyes
as he jiggles this way
and that, then flicking it up gently,
hunching his shoulders
and tilting his head back, he traps it
in the hollow of his neck,
and bending at the waist, sees his shadow,
his dangling T-shirt, the bent
blades of brown grass in summer heat;
and relaxing, the ball slipping
down his back. . .and missing his foot.
He wheels around, he marches
over the ball, as if it were a rock
he stumbled into, and pressing
his left foot against it, he pushes it
against the inside of his right
until it pops into the air, is heeled
over his head--the rainbow!--
and settles on his extended thigh before
rolling over his knee and down
his shin, so he can juggle it again
from his left foot to his right foot
--and right foot to left foot to thigh--
as he wanders, on the last day
of summer, around the empty field.
I Held a Jewel Emily Dickinson
Analysis: This poem does not lead you straight to what Dickinson was thinking and/or writing about, but allows you some insight into her life. Dickinson. I enjoyed this poem, it was brief yet informative, it told us about how she was in possession of something very valuable to her, but then it was gone. This gem could have represented a relationship in her life, a physical possession, and many other things. After the "gem" left Dickinson all she was left with were the memories.
I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep The day was warm, and winds were prosy I said, "Twill keep" I woke - and chide my honest fingers, The Gem was gone And now, an Amethyst remembrance Is all I own
A Challenge to the Dark Charles Bukowski
Analysis: To me this poem is quite confusing, while I can see that if the poem would be studied themes and motifs would be revealed. This is not a poem that has a clear meaning, a clear understanding. While it is hard to pick up on a clear meaning, one can easily see that this poem is dark and dreary. The one line that sticks out to me is "amazing how death wins hands down," it truly puts the poem into perspective, that know matter what you do in life, you will always die.
shot in the eye shot in the brain shot in the ass shot like a flower in the dance amazing how death wins hands down amazing how much credence is given to idiot forms of life amazing how laughter has been drowned out amazing how viciousness is such a constant I must soon declare my own war on their war I must hold to my last piece of ground I must protect the small space I have made that has allowed me life my life not their death my death not their death...
