Poetry Project

Design

ROBERT FROST

I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth --
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth --
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.

What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?--
If design govern in a thing so small.

Since this was one of the poems I chose for the poetry project, I got familiar with this work. The first stanza is essentially a description on an event that the speaker witnessed. It's a relatively simple situation; he finds a fat spider, a white flower, and a soft moth, all in one place "like the ingredients of a witches' broth". However, the powerful part of the poem is the second stanza, when the speaker begins to question this event. He asks, "Why is this flower white when it's usually blue? What made the spider eat it? Why is the moth here as well?" These indeed are decent questions to ask, but the last two lines completes the poem most wonderfully. "What but design of darkness to appall?" The speaker states that if design, or a higher power of some sort, exists, then it brought these characters together through bad intention. However, the speaker asks if this design even exists; does it affect everything in life, even all the small things like spiders and flowers and moths? It's a wonderful question the speaker poses, and the fact that he asks it through such a simple event really makes the reader think. What's the reason for anything? Good question.

Environmental Psyche

After our discussion on Friday, I couldn't help but continue to think about how the landscape of a place makes us feel. For Tess, the darkness of the Chase mirrored her mind, as well as the happy environment of Talbathay's mirror how she felt there as well.

But connecting it back to us is interesting itself. I know personally that when I wake up, and it's snowy and overcast outside, I feel like that day will be dreary; just like the sky. On the other hand, if it's sunny and bright, the day seems like it will be promising.

Of course Tess' environments and situations are much different than ours, but it's not such a strange concept that there is a definite connection between the environment and how we feel.

Today is sunny already. It's going to be a fine day.

Ozymandias

After reading "Ozymandias" I thought a lot about pride and what kind of role it plays in life...

Too little pride, and you don't realize how amazing you actually are at things..

Too much pride, and you come off as a pompous jerk...

"Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

I think that's what happened to Ozymandias... he decided he needed to be prideful of his accomplishments but he went to far... now he's lonely.

May we learn from him, so that we can find a good balance. You can be proud of yourself, most definitely. But too much, and you're alone. What a valuable lesson.

Blighted Stars

"Which do we live on - a splendid one or a blighted one?"

"A blighted one."

To an extent, I agree with Tess. Our star is blighted beyond repair. There is so much suffering and despair and hurt; it's impossible to avoid. There are so many problems in our little star. It's barely shining.

But on the other hand, our star is the most splendid. It gleams with potential and opportunity. We could make our star the most wonderful in the world yet we focus on the problems or faces.

Tess, I understand why you believe our star to be blighted. But until you believe it could turn splendid, it won't get better.

Shine on.

P.S. I love Linda Pastan

I was planning on blogging about the poems "Traveling Light" and "Somewhere in the World" but as I googled Linda Pastan, I found a poem of hers that I fell in love with; a poem that made me smile.

"Vermilion"

Pierre Bonnard would enter
the museum with a tube of paint
in his pocket and a sable brush.
Then violating the sanctity
of one of his own frames
he'd add a stroke of vermilion
to the skin of a flower.
Just so I stopped you
at the door this morning
and licking my index finger, removed
an invisible crumb
from your vermilion mouth. As if
at the ritual moment of departure
I had to show you still belonged to me.
As if revision were
the purest form of love. 

It's a beautiful poem entirely. The language flows well and the imagery creates a vivid picture in the mind, especially with the use of the word vermilion, an amazing red color. It's glorious, truly. She even states that love is art and that's just so sweet, I love it.

What really got me was the metaphor, comparing herself to the painter Pierre Bonnard. It's a simple metaphor; easily understood and recognized. She is like the painter, her lover is like the art. 

Previously we've seen all of her metaphors and similes show some sort of uncertainty or even unhappiness in the world, especially in "Somewhere in the World" but also in "Traveling Light". But to see how she can also find beauty in an emotion is fabulous. I like to see this different style of writing from her.

Sorry, I just really can't get over this.

His and Mine are the Same?

“He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

Is this a joke? "He is more myself than I am?" That's impossible. You are you, not he is you. That doesn't make any sense!

Don't get me wrong, I can appreciate romantic stuff sometimes but this quote is sort of pathetic. 

One of the best things about relationships is that you can take your qualities, and the qualities of your partner, and just build upon them together; not overshadow them. And all this quote does is show how instead of building those qualities, the partner (in this case Catherine is talking about Heathcliff) dominates any of the other's qualities. 

That's not love.

Even if Catherine decided to go with Heathcliff, she would have soon recognized that having the same soul composition isn't necessarily a good thing.

They say opposites attract, and that's true sometimes. But the core of that saying is that it's okay to be different than your love interest, as long as you take those differences to build each other up. 

"Today you are you, that is truer than true, there is no one alive who is youer than you." Dr. Seuss

Tell it like it is, doc.

The Same Wind to Twist it

"Now, my bonny lad, you are mine! And we'll see if one tree won't grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!"

Said by Heathcliff to Hareton after Hindley died, this quote shows so much of Heathcliff's insanity. He basically tells Hareton that he will treat him just as Hindley treated him, hoping that it will end in the same result as his late father.

As insane as it is, this quote is just another reminder that Heathcliff's central reason for living is revenge, which is great than his love for Catherine. 

I think overall, one of the main points to get from Wuthering Heights is to see how intense hatred can be; what kind of person it can make you become. He has so much love for Catherine, but his craving for revenge on Hindley outshines it almost entirely. His lust for revenge keeps him from so much, from true happiness and love.

Don't hate all your life. Sometimes it's best to forgive and forget. And if you can't, then find a different solution. Anything is better than letting that hatred and want for revenge ferment inside you. It kills.

Spring in the Classroom

I am those students in the poem. I am yearning for that nature and beauty of spring. I am suffering in a dusty room while the world grows and greens outside. Sometimes that room is school or my home or my mind. But still I crave the beautiful outdoors, where ever that may be.

Spring in the Classroom isn't just a poem about children in class during the spring, it can be anyone, stuck in any situation. We all have that one "classroom" we're just stuck in; sitting, waiting, wishing, for the "spring" and all the wonder it may bring. 

I think partly the poem was written to make the reader think of their childhood days, but also to remind them that even though they aren't stuck in a classroom anymore, they are still stuck in something.

Hopefully the bell will ring and we can reach our spring.

Whatever it is.

Winter - William Shakespeare

"When icicles hand by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipped and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the starting
'Tu-whit, tu-who!'
          A merry note,
          While greasy Joan doth keel the pot."

Winter, a glorious poem by William Shakespeare, fully describes what winter is like in a mere 18 lines in its entirety. The reader experiences the cold and the vastness of the season, by reading simple descriptions of various parts of the time of year. We see how cold Dick and Tom are. We see the frozen milk, thawing by a fire. We feel the brisk elements as we hear the owl, "Tu-whit, tu-who!" And we listen. And we shiver.

We experience winter without experiencing anything at all.

A true poem.

Let their spirit remain

There's a song that quotes, "Forgive your lovers/But don't forget their names/And let their spirit remain." And that's how I feel at the end of Drayton's "Since There's No Help." It started as a simple break, that would heal cleanly. But it turned into a dull severing of feelings and history and it won't truly ever mend again. And this is true with all relationships, romantic or not. Nothing will ever be the same, because people have such a great impact on you, whether you like it or not. You won't forget everything, and sometimes it'll hurt. But you need to do something about it.

But collect your memories and learn from them and remember who you were, who you are, and who you want to be. Take those stories and write new ones with them, pages upon pages. Mold the impressions and impress upon others. Do what you need.

"Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,

From death to life thou might’st him yet recover!"

Recover, but never fully heal.