"Too" for me means more than one, or "also" so I think the whole house was probably aware of when the dad awoke . As I read the poem it reminded me of when I would hear or would smell my mom fixing breakfast. I could have gotten up many a time and helped her with the morning chores, but I never did, instead I just waited till she called me to come eat. This poem shows me the love of a parent. A parent who knows that he and his children have a hard life, so he does all he can to lighten their load. Lovey dovey words might not be exchanged, there is probably a lot of resentments because their life is difficult. The " chronic anger" in the house I think stems from them needing to get through the hardships, because sometimes anger can spur action. But the father does want to show his love, he just shows it differently than maybe is desired. As time passes I think his child understands this better, and wishes he would have used words himself to express what he felt.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
The Last Hurrah!
My favorite thing about poetry is that I don't have to feel incompetent when I have read something, perhaps for the tenth time, and notice something that I didn't realize in the first nine readings. Poetry has a way of growing and blossoming while you aren't actually reading it, because when you return to it there is often some new element that wasn't in the poem before, or in the reader. =)
I am always drawn to the closing lines of any poem. They seem to be the 'last hurrah' of the author and are often the words that stay with me the longest. In "Those Winter Sundays," what struck me is the similarity between Hayden's closing line and Creech's closing line in "Engine Work."
"of love's austere and lonely offices?"(Hayden).
"to fire the lonely engine of the heart"(Creech).
It is amazing to me that the literal words are incredibly dissimilar, but the poetic meaning behind each line really speaks to me of the same idea. I get the impression in "Those Winter Sundays" that the child is reminiscing about days/times that have come and gone, scenes in which he/she was an active participant. Creech displays a similar scene, but one from which the child is absent. In both there is an element of heartbreak and a kind of sorrow. Hayden conveys this through phrases such as, "no one ever thanked him," and that word "indifferent" strikes me as a weight on the child's conscience.
The sounds are very impressive. "Blueblack cold" just makes me shiver thinking about it and hearing the low and abrupt sounds of the consonants. The ck-c arrangement just cracks when you read it aloud. I know that words only have meaning because we give them meaning, but "splintering" and "breaking" sound in word form just as I know them to sound in life.
The closing line still has me thinking about the child and what he means by this phrase. Is the father lonely because he's raising a child alone? Is it lonely because as children grow there is this elemental distance that comes between the changed role of adult to adult rather than child to adult? Is it even the father that is lonely? I do appreciate that he asks "what did I know?" The past tense of the word did makes me believe that he didn't know, but has since come to an understanding. Oh, so many questions. It's great because it means possibilities.
I am always drawn to the closing lines of any poem. They seem to be the 'last hurrah' of the author and are often the words that stay with me the longest. In "Those Winter Sundays," what struck me is the similarity between Hayden's closing line and Creech's closing line in "Engine Work."
"of love's austere and lonely offices?"(Hayden).
"to fire the lonely engine of the heart"(Creech).
It is amazing to me that the literal words are incredibly dissimilar, but the poetic meaning behind each line really speaks to me of the same idea. I get the impression in "Those Winter Sundays" that the child is reminiscing about days/times that have come and gone, scenes in which he/she was an active participant. Creech displays a similar scene, but one from which the child is absent. In both there is an element of heartbreak and a kind of sorrow. Hayden conveys this through phrases such as, "no one ever thanked him," and that word "indifferent" strikes me as a weight on the child's conscience.
The sounds are very impressive. "Blueblack cold" just makes me shiver thinking about it and hearing the low and abrupt sounds of the consonants. The ck-c arrangement just cracks when you read it aloud. I know that words only have meaning because we give them meaning, but "splintering" and "breaking" sound in word form just as I know them to sound in life.
The closing line still has me thinking about the child and what he means by this phrase. Is the father lonely because he's raising a child alone? Is it lonely because as children grow there is this elemental distance that comes between the changed role of adult to adult rather than child to adult? Is it even the father that is lonely? I do appreciate that he asks "what did I know?" The past tense of the word did makes me believe that he didn't know, but has since come to an understanding. Oh, so many questions. It's great because it means possibilities.
Exposed in the cold
In our world there are many ideas and experiences to describe love. Some say it is a feeling. Others have argued that the former claim is lacking and say that love is a verb (something done). Some, esspecially those in literature, seem to see love as a deep power, the most powerful thing. For examaple, in our reading, Pi kept on loving, and was saved.
Since love is so multi-tiered, any comment on it can be enlightening. Hayden's poem seems to bring to the table a lesson about what love is, how it is a verb and a power. The word 'too' is used at the begining to expose the fathers sacrifice. He sacrificed not only during the work week, but on the day when nobody else did. He chooses to expose himself to the cold all alone. The fathers deeds, the things he did were an act of love. Even though he was not thanked, alone, and without an attitude of reciprocity, he "went on loving." The question at the end is repeated perhaps so that we will stop, and think about whether we have also learned the important lesson that the child in the poem needed to learn.
Poetry is great because without it the power of love is very dificult to describe. Explicitly one can try to define it, maybe saying something like "it is a verb." But Poetry allows for something really deep to come up. It allows something experienced by one to be exposed to the world and understood by all.
Since love is so multi-tiered, any comment on it can be enlightening. Hayden's poem seems to bring to the table a lesson about what love is, how it is a verb and a power. The word 'too' is used at the begining to expose the fathers sacrifice. He sacrificed not only during the work week, but on the day when nobody else did. He chooses to expose himself to the cold all alone. The fathers deeds, the things he did were an act of love. Even though he was not thanked, alone, and without an attitude of reciprocity, he "went on loving." The question at the end is repeated perhaps so that we will stop, and think about whether we have also learned the important lesson that the child in the poem needed to learn.
Poetry is great because without it the power of love is very dificult to describe. Explicitly one can try to define it, maybe saying something like "it is a verb." But Poetry allows for something really deep to come up. It allows something experienced by one to be exposed to the world and understood by all.
Cold, Splintering, Breaking
In Those Winter Sundays I could feel the bone chilling cold. For me sundays are days to rest and snuggle with blankets, but Hayden's Sunday is cold and yet your heart is full of the heat of love because of the fathers sacrifice to have the place warm for when the family gets up. The lines and the sounds that Hayden uses on line 6 and chilling to my body, then warms the cockles of my heart when I realize the father's sacrifice if warming the house and polishing his shoes. To me the father was polishing respect in his child and shoing that love that only family can give unconditionally.
The world is cold and non forgiving. Like the father working hard and never getting a thank you or recognition, the world will step on you and throw you to the curb. But in those rare moment when you are recognized it is generally the small and humble that will appreciate your sacrifice. As human beings we generally never understand fully the gifts and sacrifice given to make our live filled with warmth and kindness, instead we take them for granted. OR, for me, I try to see and understand the best I can to appreciate the small things others do for me, so as to always have that warmth in my life. this poem doesn't just leave your body cold but your soul as well, through the sounds of the words. and yet it teaches me to find warmth in the things and people around me.
The world is cold and non forgiving. Like the father working hard and never getting a thank you or recognition, the world will step on you and throw you to the curb. But in those rare moment when you are recognized it is generally the small and humble that will appreciate your sacrifice. As human beings we generally never understand fully the gifts and sacrifice given to make our live filled with warmth and kindness, instead we take them for granted. OR, for me, I try to see and understand the best I can to appreciate the small things others do for me, so as to always have that warmth in my life. this poem doesn't just leave your body cold but your soul as well, through the sounds of the words. and yet it teaches me to find warmth in the things and people around me.
oh what did I know?
In the poem "Those Winter Sundays" the narrator is talking about his dad getting ready for work. In the poem you get the feeling that the feeling towards the dad was one of slight resentment,yet at the same time you notice the feeling of regret the son has for not appreciating his dad. In the poem he asks "What did I know, what did I know of love's austere and lonely offices?" I believe that this repeating of what did I know twice makes it so that the reader could truly feel the sons agony and regret. By the way he wrote it you could almost hear him talking and you are able to feel the emotions in the poem.
The taste of words in my mouth.
One of my favorite things about the poems we have read thus far, is how enjoyable they are to read out loud. The language is such that the rhythms and sound of the words make my mouth smile after the words leave it. The words that fall as they are carry with them an emotion that is apparent in the music they create. For example in Those Winter Sundays the father getting up in "the blueblack cold" with "cracked hands that ached". I love those phrases. And those are only two examples in this poem. In Autumn Elegy, I loved "i am not accustomed to such opulent/ Panoply of dying". You feel these words in your chest and in your mouth. They are words that you can taste.
The pleasure of words in the mouth
Another class that I am taking this semester is History of the English Language, in which we discuss the different periods of development in our language. At every stage of development there are two factors at work upon the language, one is outer history, and the other is inner history. Inner history details such things as how vowels shifted in use from Old English up until Present Day English. It's interesting to note that the consonants in our language have remained fairly stable and haven't gone through much change. The reason why I mention all of this is because chapter four is a part of the history of our language. I would like to think that I have become more aware of sound in poetry because of the class, History of the English Language. So, reading chapter four was a nice review on sound formation.
After reading the chapter and having sound formation on my mind, I paid closer attention to the words and their sounds when I read the poems. I read "Those Winter Sundays" a few times. With each reading I read slowly, playing with the sounds in my mouth and how I formed them. It's not a very long poem, but I think the poem makes use of many of the sound techniques that were discussed in the chapter. There is alliteration in the poem, and there is assonance as well. Paying close attention to sound opened up another way of reading the poem. The first time I read the poem it was for meaning and emotional content, but then when I went back and reread it was for sound, and how the poems content and form are held together through sound. The sound of the poem is just as stirring as the images that are used.
Like the book mentions, I found a certain pleasure in the way words felt as I read them, which in turn revealed a new aspect to the poems I read. Used effectively in writing, sound has a lot of power, and the right combination of words can influence and move the reader on both concious and unconcious levels. I personally think that the way poets use words and their sounds is exciting, and it makes me want to be more sound concious when I write.
I'm looking forward to our discussion today.
After reading the chapter and having sound formation on my mind, I paid closer attention to the words and their sounds when I read the poems. I read "Those Winter Sundays" a few times. With each reading I read slowly, playing with the sounds in my mouth and how I formed them. It's not a very long poem, but I think the poem makes use of many of the sound techniques that were discussed in the chapter. There is alliteration in the poem, and there is assonance as well. Paying close attention to sound opened up another way of reading the poem. The first time I read the poem it was for meaning and emotional content, but then when I went back and reread it was for sound, and how the poems content and form are held together through sound. The sound of the poem is just as stirring as the images that are used.
Like the book mentions, I found a certain pleasure in the way words felt as I read them, which in turn revealed a new aspect to the poems I read. Used effectively in writing, sound has a lot of power, and the right combination of words can influence and move the reader on both concious and unconcious levels. I personally think that the way poets use words and their sounds is exciting, and it makes me want to be more sound concious when I write.
I'm looking forward to our discussion today.
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