Poetry Blog 10

"A Poison Tree" by William Blake describes how anger can be different, depending on who it is directed towards. The first stanza gives a synopsis of what the rest will describe: When angry with a friend, one usually talks it out with the friend, and the feelings go away. However, with a "foe," this is not at all the case. Here, Blake begins an extended metaphor of the wrath felt for an enemy; it grows and becomes like a tree. In the next stanza, Blake uses the same metaphor to explain that the tree is "watered" and "sunned" by brooding over the bad feelings and plotting against the foe. When I got to the third stanza, the mention of the apple brought me to the realization that the metaphor of the tree was very similar to the Tree of Knowledge from Genesis, and the apple like the tree's forbidden fruit. However the apple also made me think of Snow White, because the tree is referred to as "Poison" and the apple eventually kills the foe. But, the poison apple idea in Snow White could have also come from the Genesis allusion. I think the overall message of the poem is interesting, and quite true: When you allow rage to grow, it often causes people to do a lot more harm than originally intended. But, when anger is worked through and talked out, it does not grow into a poison tree, but rather just "end[s]."

Poetry Blog 9

The poem "The Guitarist Tunes Up" By Frances Cornford immediately caught my attention when we got the new poetry packet today. It's concise--but within its single stanza, the poem says a lot. Cornford's poem is an extended metaphor. It compares the way in which the man treats his guitar to how he might also treat a woman he loved. I think Cornford is trying to state that a great musician does not control his or her instrument, like a "lordly conqueror," but rather approaches it with curiosity and love, as if "inquiring with delight." Cornford also describes the musician's act of playing as a team effort of both the instrument and the guitarist: to play beautiful music a musician must first have a decent instrument. No matter how good the musician, a bad instrument will never sound good. I also like how the poem is called, "The Guitarist Tunes Up," because I see it sort of as a play on words. Not only is the guitarist tuning his guitar to get ready to play as it is taken literally, but he is also getting "in tune" or in sync with the instrument. This poem makes perfect sense if you've seen, as most people have, an instrumentalist who is really good at what they do and who is clearly in love with playing their instrument.

Poetry Blog 8

I don't think this is very creative, but I'm blogging it anyway.

Goodbye to Childhood (I guess that's the title?)

Goodbye...

Excitedly to predictability
And always knowing what next year will bring
Refreshingly to the same bedrooms cluttered with memorabilia
From every previous of eighteen years

Nostalgically to boxes still in closets from my 6th grade upheaval
And clothes on the bottom of the bottom drawer
Unworn for years

Relievingly to the gas tank that devours my wallet
The "click, click, click" of the '95 engine
That's been chugging along almost as long as I have

Independently to decisions made for me:
"I bought you more shampoo"
"Spaghetti is for dinner"
"Go to your mom's at exactly 5:30 tonight."

Maturely to class, class, lunch, class, class
A rhythm of stress and work, interrupted by two days of (partial) rest
And friends one day, betrayal observed the following
Thankfully to that kid who exchanges my hard work for his rest

Hesitantly to Mom's house and Dad's house

To bags packed every week

But most of all goodbye readily to so many small transitions--

And an anticipating hello to one monumental move

Poetry Blog 7

Questions Poem

Questions We Have About Humanity

Why must we be hostile?
Why must we know all?
When do we lose our humanity?
Why can't we see the beauty more in our humanity?
How will humanity progress?
Why can't we see humanity as a whole?
Why can't we open our eyes?
What is humanity?
What are the components made up of humanity?
How is humanity so different, yet so similar?