Remember that time I was convinced that Dumbledore wasn't dead because he was a phoenix? It's kind of like that.

I'm gonna be honest here. When it said "I have the last unshredded pictures/ of our matching eyes and hair," I wrote "incest?" in my reading journal. I'm still not sure I get it. Why do their eyes and hair match, if they're married?

Wait.... The pieces are falling together, but I don't really want them to fall together like this. My group and another group were both discussing the possibility that perhaps the couple in the poem had to split because they couldn't have children. I don't think this strays from the illustrious Cone Zone, especially if two groups considered the possibility. If they were in an incestuous relationship... children would be something of an unlikelihood, would they not? Perhaps it wasn't a physical impossibility but rather a moral dilemma....

It all seems to fit, but it's a bit odd that Mathis would choose to write a poem about it.

For more information about states' marriage laws... click here.

Timmy Turner is the next Shakespeare. And also John Donne. Both of them.

"The Apparition" is pretty risqué. The speaker addresses a former lover (Q3), and his words are nothing short of threatmantic.

^right episode, wrong excerpt and... voices?

So that's definitely the tone, here. Essentially, the speaker isn't literally dead. Also, he isn't figuratively dead yet. He's trying to threaten this lady into not shunning him because he thinks he will feel dead. Clearly, the logical way to get people to keep you around is to tell them you intend to stand by their bedside and haunt them every night. It also helps if the person to whom you are speaking is convinced that, indeed, their bedmate will be too fatigued to notice your pleas for help and safety.

The ocean is on fire. The sky turned dark again as the boats came in.

The denotative situation of "Crossing the Bar" (Q1) is as follows:

In stanza one, the speaker mentions the sunset and an evening star, which both emerge at the end of a day. I believe this is symbolic of the end of his life. He also hopes to avoid a "moaning of the bar" when he "put[s] out to sea." I think that means he hopes to die a peaceful and brisk death, when the time comes. The "one clear call" for the speaker is perhaps a call to death, or the arrival of "his time."

The second stanza has a similar tone of imminent demise. "But such a tide as moving seems asleep,/ Too full for sound and foam," sounds to me like the notion that the speaker's life is too full. He has used up his life's potential, and he is headed toward the Great Sleep. (heythat'saeuphemism!)

"Twilight and evening bell" in the third stanza have a similar meaning to the "Sunset and evening star" in the first. It means that the onset of death is upon the speaker, and "After that the dark!" which is, again, death. "And may there be no sadness of farewell/ When I embark;" reminded me a lot of the poem "Valediction." They both forbid the audience to feel sad when they "leave," although for entirely different reasons. Personally, that would make me even more panicky-sad, but whatever.

Stanza four is "For though from out our bourne of Time and Place/ The flood may bear me far,/ I hope to see my Pilot face to face/ When I have crossed the bar." I believe this means that the flood, which symbolizes the rushing changes and differences that occur in death, take him far from his earthly "Time and Place," he hopes to see his Pilot, symbolic of God, "face to face." Also, the "bar" he crosses appears to be death, but in the context of the poem, our group decided it was a sandbar, which follows along with the imagery of the sea and foam and sunset mentioned earlier in the poem.

This song is creepy the first twelve or so times you hear it, but it grows on you. On the plus side, there are no dead people in this particular video.

You're in my spot.

Today in class, we-- or roughly fifty percent of "we"-- were asked whether we would feel offended or complimented if somebody recited "My mistress' eyes" for us personally, and I didn't respond because, due to the gelatinous mush of anti-think that was apparently encompassing my brain, I was too slow to decide. But there's definitely something to be said for sincere, trustworthy appreciation, I suppose. Most likely, though, if somebody told me that, I would just wonder, "Why... are you telling me this?"

The question of "tone" has always seemed a little vague to me.... I mean, is satirical a tone? Shakespeare's speaker is satirizing men who write such exaggerated sonnets for their lady-friends, but is that his tone, or is that just the overall subject?

That aside, I think his tone is sort of pompous, in the beginning at least. Then it moves to being a little defensive, maybe, when he says the last three lines. "My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground./ And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare/ As any she belied with false compare."

Crayola washable kids' paint.

The tone of "Much Madness is Divinest Sense" is satirical, methinks. (*points at question eight*) Dickinson isn't really the dry humor sort, though, so it's not a particularly amusing satire, and I think there's some expectation of that in most satire, so I'm conflicted. Her speaker definitely seems to be calling for change, though. She wants to ensure that people don't just blindly accept things. Sense is madness, and the majority is sensible, but she wants to show that the crazy minorityis in the right.

She does recognize the risks involved, though. "Demur--you're straightway dangerous,/ And handled with a chain." Straying from the norm hasn't worked to the advantage of most of our famous examples. They're usually the ones who bring about the big changes that keep our world from plummeting into irrevocable doom, though, so we need those guys.

Some people call that a prayer.

^^Heart-battering? Anyone?

It's a poem of direct address to God!

The primary focus seems to be on paradoxical statements. For instance, the speaker says he'll never be free until God imprisons him. Also, he says he won't be chaste until he's ravished.

Aaaaand there was quite a bit of symbolism. God the Father is the one who knocks and breaks; think flood-the-land, build-an-arc God. The Holy Spirit is the one that breathes and blows because the Holy Spirit is often described like a wind.... Also, God the Son is the shining and burning one because it's a PUN! =D He's the Light of the World and the Son/Sun of God. (That's actually where the date for Christmas originated, indirectly, I believe. The pagans had a feast day for the sun god, and Christians wanted to party too, so they made Christmas to celebrate at the same time for their Son of God. I may have that slightly wrong, as I am remembering it from middle school religion class.)

*FUN Fact* The name N'SYNC comes from one of the members' mother saying the group sounded "in sync." It also includes the last letter of each of the members' first names: JustiN, ChriS, JoeY, Lan(steN), and JC. Yeah, they gave Lance a nickname so it would fit.

But sir, nobody worries about upsetting a droid.

APO 96225

Don't act like that's not the first image that came to mind.

Okay, so my group saw a lot of similarities between this poem and The Things They Carried. It reminded me particularly of Norman Bowker, which is disturbing because of how he ended up. Both stories, though, explain how in the case of Vietnam, people always wanted to know what was going on until they did, and then they wanted to erase it from memory and flee any more discussion on the topic because they just can't handle the truth.

It's the old "story-truth v. happening-truth" coming back to visit again. I think Margaret pointed out that the "It sure rains a lot here" could be symbolic of the raining down of ash from the napalm and whatnot. (#doesn'tknowwhatnapalmisreally) And then the sunrise could be explosions and the funny monkeys... were symbolic of something else... possibly Vietnamese citizens, but that seems messed up.

The speaker utilizes understatement in his letters until he finally gets worn down and tells his mom the truth. Then, in what I believe is situational irony, the dad tells him he's upsetting his mother and to try to be less ominous.

"Someday, I'm gonna be exactly like you. 'Til then I know just what I'll do. Barbie, beautiful Barbie, I'll make believe that I am you."

The central theme (question 7) of "Barbie Doll" was pretty clear. First of all, the dimensions of a Barbie, if she was life-sized, in case you hadn't heard, are as follows:

If Barbie were a real person, she would be 6' 0", weigh 100 lbs., and wear a size 4. Her measurements would be 39"/19"/33".

Thank you, Christian-mommies.com. Woahhh, that's what I get for deciding to link before I realize the web site title's odd.

Piercy's objective was to point out the ridiculous lengths to which pubescent (<--that's right, I said it) girls feel justified in going to meet society's expectations. The girl in that poem commits suicide, and sure, it's an overstatement, but the sentiment is there all the same. That kind of thing happens. That extreme is rare, which is definitely something for which to be thankful, but it shouldn't happen at all.

The last line is particularly poignant: "To every woman a happy ending." Actually, that's verbal irony for sure. She's finally met society's expectations, I suppose, but she's dead, and she most certainly didn't die happily.

Old advertisements are kind of creepy.

Butterfly Shots

This is the part where Emily Dickinson is high on life. That was my first reaction, anyway.

Now's as good a time as any to say that, in response to question two, I kind of feel like the speaker is Emily Dickinson. It's not necessarily the case, but she just doesn't seem the type to write from another's perspective. She was sort of disturbed, I think, and she wrote poetry to express that in a healthy way. That's why I was surprised, though, by the optimistic tone this poetry seemed to take.

I had inferred that life was the never-brewed liquor of which she spoke. Some people said, more specifically, nature, which probably makes more sense but is less relatable, I feel. Most people just don't get that excited about nature, in my experience. I guess Emily Dickinson wasn't "most people."

As my dear friends Kahle and Christian have already pointed out, "Vats upon the Rhine" refer to wine which originates from the vineyards along the Rhine. Rhine wine. Aha. Perhaps, though, she is more excited about the flowing of the Rhine and the blooming/blossoming/whatever-the-grapes-do of the grapes. So the occasion (question four) is just an ordinary day's appreciation of nature.

I guess the theme (question seven) would have to be appreciation of nature and also maybe fear of judgment. Dickinson was agoraphobic by nature, so it's fitting that she mentions the "Saints" running to windows to watch her as she makes something of a fool of herself.

Also, the setting (question five) is outside during the daylight, which we know because of her "Leaning against the--Sun--." I have a severe distaste for her ending of poems with random dashes as though she just gave up on concluding her thoughts. Oh well. I interpreted that to be her sort of final detachment from reality in her never-brewed-liquor-induced tipsiness. It's as though she's falling up against the Sun because the world is spinning all around her.

"I tripped on my shoelace,
And I fell up.
Up to the roof tops,
Up over the town,
Up past the tree tops,
Up over the mountains,
Up where the colors
Blend into the sounds.
But I got me so dizzy
When I looked around,
I got sick to my stomach
And I threw down."

--Shel Silverstein

I prefer cinnamint.

First things first: to "defer" is to put off.

Also, I want to get the "Or crust and sugar over--/like a syrupy sweet?" out of the way while I still have some sense of its meaning. I believe the consensus we reached in class was that the speaker implies a state in which the dream is deferred because it has been "sugarcoated." This barrier of glorified vision is particularly deceptive because of its sweetness. The speaker longs so deeply to fulfill his quest that he gradually loses his faith in his ability to succeed. The dream becomes more and more a dream and less and less an actual goal.

Then, we have the ever-so-redundant similes. "Like a raisin in the sun," "like a sore," "like rotten meat," and "like a syrupy sweet," all modify this deferred dream. It gets old and shrinks. It festers. It encompasses the dreamer's being.

Finally, there's the metaphor: the explosion.

I saw this as the all-or-nothing moment. I think we decided ultimately in class that the clearly-important-because-it's-italicized "Or does it explode?" was an expression of fear that the dream would explode in a whirlwind of violence. After some thought, though, I'm more inclined to believe that it's an expression of a different sort of trepidation. He has that nervous feeling that erupts right before a big event, when one knows he or she is about to become either very happy or very sad. This "explosion" could set things right, or it could prove to be a disaster of epic proportions.

Siriusly (<--Sorry.)

This poem had lots of figurative language, so I'm going to begin by listing and explaining thoooose to get them out of the way.

"No--yet still steadfast, still unchangeable," is an example of consonance because of the repetition of the "st-" sound. I have trouble deducing what the express purpose of such language is. I mean... it sounds nice. It's poetry. Ergo, it happens. Am I missing something?

The poem itself is an apostrophe with direct address to the bright star from whence the title originates. It seems to me as though the speaker is trying to rid himself of the burden of his cumbersome thoughts, and since he doesn't want to be talking to himself, he directs his words toward an object which can't judge him. Because of this focal point, however, his poem takes the direction that it does--comparing his own situation to the situation of the star.

Also, "sweet unrest" is evidently a noteworthy oxymoron. I took it to mean that it was sweet because the moment with the two lovebirds is sweet, but the speaker holds a sense of unrest in the idea that someday, it will inevitably end.

This provides a segue into the poem's conclusion, which is full of all kinds of frantic clinging loviness.

The things about the star that the speaker admires are its steadfast and patient nature, and he hopes to steer clear of the star's loneliness and sleeplessness.

*FUN Fact* Sirius, AKA "The Dog Star," is the brightest star in the night sky and part of the constellation Canis Major.

Lawlz....

This poem made me uncomfortable... mostly because I have a cat, and I can relate a liiiittle too well. Actually, I felt like I related a little to well to most of this poem, which makes me uncomfortable because everybody else was like, "Weirdest. Poem. Ever." Peeeeeer preessurrrre!

But who hasn't wanted to stay in bed all day rather than get up in the morning? And who hasn't, upon fighting that first impulse, lazed idly about and eaten random stuff in a pique of self-destruction as they dwelled on the horror that is February? (Well, when you put it that way....)

Then there's the apostrophic moment with the indifferent cat. The speaker wants her cat to get off its pink bumhole and procreate. It's like she thinks of her cat as "one of the lucky ones," almost. I just got that vibe. I didn't see it so much as the speaker's telling herself to hop to it, although that's certainly a possibility. I felt like she was saying, "Cat, I find your behavior annoying as all get-out, but you might as well get on with it. I mean, maybe you can reel in the spring a little faster."

Pink is red mixed with white.

The dog: it's pink because it is BALD! That didn't occur to me until I reread it the next day. I felt oblivious.

Anyway, "Pink Dog" seems to be a social commentary of some sort. Possibly the dogs are representative of prostitutes. Evidence supporting this would be the line inquiring as to the whereabouts of the dog's babies and also the focus on the diseased nature of the dog. It reminded me of "London" in that respect; prostitution was viewed as the greatest problem the city faced.

The poem also seemed to have a somewhat ironic or satirical tone to me. I thought possibly part of the social commentary was intended to point out the superficiality of a society which thinks if one dresses better, he will be better.

Our group also discussed the possibility that the poem took place during Mardi Gras. Evidence to support this includes "Ash Wednesday" and the sambas, which are a type of Brazilian/African dance.

This dog is not the right kind of pink, but there is no denying that it is reallyreallycute.

Residual Nabokov Resentment?

It's a whole new spin on Spring! Huzzah!

It's not really huzzah-worthy, though, because this one is pretty depressing. It's okay, though, because it doesn't feel like poetry to me unless it's depressing. True story.

Anyway, I was intrigued by the fact that the only incontrovertible evidence that the speaker's husband has died is in the title. I wondered if I would have assumed he had died if I hadn't read the title, but now I can never know, because I did read the title--which, by the way, I feel is proof that there is indeed such a thing as reading, so take that, Nabokov.

Now, let's get back to the Spring thing. This time of year is "poignant" because spring is affiliated so closely with new life--blooming, budding trees, resurrection and whatnot. The lady's husband is dead, which is decidedly the opposite of living. Also, this meadow seems to remind her of her husband. For this reason, the son seems to be trying to coerce her into returning there to remember and mourn and move on. When the widow hears this, however, she envisions, rather than a rejuvenation, a sinking into the marsh which, to the reader, feels permanent, as though she might consider her son's advice only to join her husband in death. While the son intends the white trees "in the distance" to inspire a hope for the future, they only seem to further depress his mother.

Hopping.

"Spring" contained some lovely alliteration, which always just makes everything better. We had "long and lovely and lush" weeds in wheels, and there were five consecutive lines that began with the "th-" sound.

Also, there was an allusion to the Garden of Eden, which brings about the whole theme of the poem. Youth is finite; innocence is temporary, as we recall from Adam and Eve's first sin. Likewise, spring doesn't last forever. Winter inevitably arrives.

EB blogged about how the poem reminded her of Easter, and I could see that; I also pointed out that the author's name is Hopkins, which is just a silly coincidence, but nonetheless.... The Garden of Eden is unquestionably religious imagery, as is "heavens" and "sinning" "Christ, lord." "O maid's child" could refer to Jesus, which would make the final stanza an invocation on behalf of the children. The speaker hopes Christ will save the "girl and boy" before they lose their innocence to sin.

Cold

When I read "Those Winter Sundays," I interpreted it as a grown (wo)man looking back on her younger years, spent in a home with chronic apathy-inducing tension. It felt like there was just so much anger that she couldn't muster the strength for reciprocal anger.

The imagery of the poem fits the title; it's wintery. The air is cold and dry, as is the atmosphere. The "fire" image accentuates this, which might be juxtaposition. Also, the fire and the shined shoes point out a second message of the poem. The speaker seems to regret his or her lack of gratitude toward the father figure. This regret combined with the specific mention of Sundays bring to light the possibility of a religious thread. The father could mean the Father, for our gratitude toward Him will always be a little bit insufficient, so regret for this seems logical.

"Immanent" is not a misspelling. I thought it was a misspelling.

"The Convergence of the Twain"--that's the point where two things meet! Thanks, Trevor!

Anyway, the things meeting are almost indisputably the Titanic and the glacier that drowned it. This becomes more evident when one remembers to read the subtitles: "Lines on the loss of the 'Titanic.'" The "vaingloriousness" of the affair is evidenced in the mentioning of such items as mirrors and jewels which have been ravaged by "salamandrine fires."

Also, the "Immanent Will" seems to me like a description of fate. Is it personification if it's capitalized like that? Probably it is not. Similarly, I believe "Spinner of the Years" to be a metaphor-type-thing for God.

The format of this poem was intriguing as well.... Why eleven stanzas, Mr. Hardy?

Ambiguity?

As it turns out, I rather like this poetry. I remember writing my Famous American Day report on Emily Dickinson back in third grade and really wanting to like her poetry. I didn't, though. I also really hated the costume.

Since I'm apparently talking about Emily Dickinson, I'll go ahead and make this post about "I felt a Funeral, in my Brain."

Worth noting is the seemingly random capitalization; actually, she seems to have aimed for nouns, which is oddly German of her. In any case, her perspective, arguably, could be from the casket, or "Box," in question. If one takes that stance, then the funeral is her own. Although I feel that is the most satisfactory interpretation, this site says that she felt traumatized by several deaths which were not her own, which I suppose she might have had trouble removing from her brain.

This ambiguity receives no clarification from the abrupt end. Dickinson seems to either lose her mind or die, mid-thought. The cynic in me also includes the possibility that she merely grew bored or frustrated in the writing of that particular poem and tossed her pen aside. More likely, though, she lost her mind from the mourning for the funeral in her brain--a funeral which was likely a metaphor for the mourning itself rather than a literal funeral, as funerals aren't things to be "felt [in the] brain." If in fact the funeral she imagined was her own, she was already dead, and she can't be expected to die in the writing of this poem. At the same time, though, if she's dead, can we expect her to be watching her own funeral anyway? Well... maybe.

Poetry Interpretation: Hermione v. Luna

Mr. Perrine has expressed the view that some interpretations of poetry are too "far-fetched" to be correct. I won't say that I disagree with that, necessarily. Rather, I would like to refer to this opinion as the "Hermione Viewpoint." Hermione Granger of the Harry Potter series is a terribly intelligent witch; indeed, Sirius Black once calls her the "cleverest witch of [her] age." However, she often finds herself at odds with another witch in the class behind hers who has what I would call a broader range of realities. That witch goes by the name of Luna "Loony" Lovegood, and it is worth noting that she, rather than Hermione, resides in the Ravenclaw dormitories, where "wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," whereas Gryffindors treasure daring, nerve and chivalry. My point is that if there is no way for a poet to describe exactly what he meant without limiting his work, then perhaps the reader should be allowed to interpret it as they see fit, as long as they have ample evidence for their beliefs. If the interpretation is particularly "far-fetched," the interpreter will have to work a bit harder, but that's what makes poetry so interesting, right?

For instance, I "misinterpreted" Melville's poem. I do indeed prefer the "correct" interpretation with the deeper questions and *coughpretentiouscough* metaphors, but why couldn't it simply be a poem about soldiers soldiering? Perrine goes on in his essay to say that William Blake's "The Sick Rose" has a broad base of interpretation. Would my interpretation, then, that the rose is a rosy apple, the worm's dark secret love, be correct? It seems a little ridiculous, in retrospect, which is probably because I did it in the wee hours of the morning, long after I should have been asleep, but it still seems logical enough to me. "The rose must always represent something beautiful or desirable or good. The worm must always be some kind of corrupting agent of youth," says Perrine. Apples are desirable to some people, I suppose, although personally, they make me itchy. Also, a worm is indisputably a worm. I don't know about "corrupting agent of youth;" that seems like sketchy phrasing.