I can't help but agree with Elizabeth, that we might be taking our grade into our own hands by blogging with no prompt. =) It's also dangerous to theorize about an author's intent when that author is your own teacher, but I also live on the edge and welcome the 'constructive danger.'
I am incredibly moved by the emotion these poems evoke in me. I am fortunate enough to have my father still with me, but the intent and purpose of the poem is not lost on me. "The Gift" and "Woodwork" both present a very particular theme: that experiences and especially memories are often translated via our senses. It never ceases to amaze me, the extent of experiences that we, as humans, are emotionally able to contain and in turn process through our senses: the smell of grandmother's linen closet, a favorite uncle's boisterous laugh, the pinch of an annoying brother. These sensory experiences translate into memories and often imprint themselves in our souls more deeply than we may ever imagine. These become the experiences that we carry with us and which hold us more firmly than any other.
In "The Gift" the speaker mentions that he doesn't remember the story his father told him during his ordeal, but he "hear(s) his voice still, a well of dark water, a prayer." Li-Young Lee must understand the relation between our experiences and our senses even more deeply than I am able to explain. The speaker goes on to mention that a viewer might have witnessed that seen and thought that a man was "planting something in a boy's palm." Isn't that exactly what was happening? Perhaps not a seed, but something was being planted, those "measures of tenderness" and the "flames of discipline" were forever planted in the speakers memory.
I was more deeply impressed by "Woodwork" with the choice of vocabulary; those low, harsh verbs. The sheer masculinity that is conveyed through the text makes the absence of that source of strength, the father, more keenly felt than that of "The Gift." The loss seems somehow more acute because of the power that is behind every vowel and consonant: "grinding gravel," "lock click," "spun smooth." The father is a very powerful presence in this poem and the loss of that presence becomes tangible and adds a fragile quality to the poems conclusion. I can't help but wonder what occurrences make the "grains of memory" smooth; what helps the past become flush?"
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Jaree,
ReplyDeleteFirst you seriously crack me up!! You have great sense of humor; you can see the depths of the bizarre as well as the mundane. I must agree with your response to Alisha that, “if a poem doesn’t evoke some personal emotion it must be crap.” I also confer that Ms. Austen would totally agree. I think the other thing you’re smart at is that besides just looking at the emotions of a poem, you can step back and see things from an analytical standpoint. Which I must confess is harder for me; I’m all about the emotion. But because you think about the words used, and the sounds promoted, you are able to more fully encompass the poem. I loved when you said “The sheer masculinity that is conveyed through the text makes that absence of that source of strength, the father, more keenly felt than that of “The Gift”.When you made this comparison some things cliqued with me and poetry, for I haven’t been able to say in words why certain poems have meant something more to me than other poems. At first I thought it was the subject matter, or a personal experience that made it more real, or less real for me. You making an observation of the text, made some feelings I had about poetry come into more precise words. Which I guess is what poetry is all about.
Isn't it amazing how much words can move our emotions. It is very hard to interpret completely what an author is trying to say to a reader, but that is part of the beauty of poetry. We are able to make the poem personally apply to our lives or to the things we have read in the past. I really love how you focus a lot on the imagery in the Gift. Imagery can help convey so much and creates a picture for the reader. I agree something was being planted in the boy.
ReplyDelete"These sensory experiences translate into memories and often imprint themselves in our souls more deeply than we may ever imagine. These become the experiences that we carry with us and which hold us more firmly than any other."
ReplyDeleteI love that the human mind can do this! What's even crazier is the fact that most memories are not remembered until something triggers them. Usually those memories even hit us when we need them the most. When I read "The Gift" I quickly remembered when I was 4 years old. I was sitting on my porch steps with a piece of nasty cardboard in my mouth, tears streaming down my face. My dad was popping a blister. Poetry truly does have a way of bringing out emotions that no other form of art does.