Finding Literature Outside of Books and Outside of the Classroom

As we’ve talked about in class, it’s difficult now, after taking this class, to read a lot of things or watch television shows without “close reading” them and analyzing them and their meanings. I’d noticed this a few times before, but nothing really stuck out to me too much. Personally, I’ve begun to do this with music too, looking into the lyrics of the music to see if I could identify any literary devices and being critical of the writing of the song. I especially noticed this after my Joyful Noise concert last Wednesday night when I couldn’t help but notice the true poetry that is such a vital part of the music.

All of the songs from our concert told stories, as does a lot of gospel music. Also, although the songs are very personal and sung with feeling coming from the performer, they are relatable to many people. The songs are used as a type of testimony or praise outside of a church (or within some churches.) These songs are easy to catch on to because of the large amount of repetition used. The repetition is not only so that it is enjoyable to the audience, but more so that a greater amount of people can sing the songs and they are easier to remember. Even though the music sounds complicated and uses multi-part harmony in the verses and refrain, they are typically easy to catch on to after only one or two times listening to the song.

One particular song that has stayed with me is “Help Me Believe,” originally performed by Kirk Franklin. The chorus of the song is as follows:

“Help me believe, can I believe,

Let me believe, I wanna believe.

I’ve been here before

And can’t take that hurt again”

It is easy to see the repetition included here, even in just this small section of the song. The chorus itself is also repeated several times throughout the song, and the verses in between all have the same melody, only with different wording to continue the story of a man’s journey in discovering his own beliefs.

I thought this was important to share with the class because I know I’m not the only one who has begun to have a tendency to pick apart everything they read now as a critic. For me it happened with music, I think I’d be interesting to know what everyone else is learning to look at with a critical eye too!

Flowers of Flame Poetry Reading Review

I found attending Haider Al-Kabi’s poetry reading here on campus a very interesting and educating experience. Mr. Al-Kabi was born in 1954 in Basar, Iraq and was exiled to America during the first gulf war. He is now a professor of Arabic and Spanish here in the United States. He is the translator of many of the poems in the collection Flowers of Flame. Although he read about ten poems in the time he was here, one in particular stood out to me. His reading of the poem “Tomorrow the war will have a picnic” by Abdul Razaq Al-Rubaiee was powerful in a way I wasn’t quite prepared for. In reading or hearing the poem, we see through Iraqi eyes several events in the most recent war there. The combination of the way that the poem was read and the wording of the poem made it stick with me.

I found it interesting that the title was repeated several times throughout the poem to emphasize the way the Iraqi people saw the American “shock and awe” campaign in Baghdad and the effect it had on the civilian people. People knew and accepted what was going to happen and tried to prepare themselves as much as possible for what they were about to go through. The author uses phrases such as “prepare bodies for pain” to show this. There are also times in the poem where you sense almost a mocking tone to it, saddening in a way that we realize that the people knew there was no way to avoid it. I found this in the title, almost as if the “shock and awe” would just like a day in the park. The author also tells the reader to make and easy, clear, beautiful path for the bombs to make their way and to not fight it. As much as they were prepared, it would still, as it would for any human being “break mother’s hearts,” and the people would need to “empty salty streams” of tears.

This poem brought on a new perspective of the war and of this day in particular. I’ve always heard about it from the American point of view, and it brings about new feelings that I didn’t expect. Looking around the room, I could tell that I was not the only one to be experiencing these new emotions toward the subject. I was surprised to find not only my own eyes tearing up but also the eyes of everyone else listening, professors and students included. The way the poet read the poem so effectively and passionately, it was impossible to not feel for the Iraqi people, regardless of anyone’s political views.

Looking into the poet’s background really helped me to get into the poetry more because it was so personal for him and so fresh in his mind. Also, his form of reading helped because he read with emotion and an understanding that could only come from having the emotions himself. Although he was not the author of the poem, he has a similar background. His reading was powerful and definitely gave me a lot to think about.

Broken for You

The body is so exclusive
With rusted steeples that pierce new wounds
And doors that shut in one’s face.
Assigned seats on Sunday morning
And a popularity contest on Wednesday.
But, oh,Do we keep up with our tithes and offerings!
That hold more weight than our hearts.

But surely our voices
That sing those melodious, sweet hymns
Do something.
They may not justify as atonement
For the sins we committed last night
But we changed clothes and
Put breath mints in before 9:45.

Outstretched hands are extended
With claws of judgment---
That I’m certain the Son didn’t possess.
Darwin, do you have an explanation for this?
The body doesn’t agree with science,
But we pop pills when we have a headache.
And the body thinks Hollywood is corrupt,
But we hope no one knows we Ti-Voed
“Keeping up with the Kardashions”
Who are only famous because their dad defended OJ
As in Orenthal James,
Not as in the orange juice
Whose calories you counted at breakfast
And are more vigorously repenting
Than the lies you told this morning.

But we dismiss this
By focusing on the pain of our asses
Which have become so calloused
From sitting on a wooden bench
Beside our "brothers" and "sisters"
Of whom we forgot their names.
And by giving attention to our exhausted legs
Which have been wandering the dark corridors
Of the home that we have come to fear.
And of our arms that have grown weary
From uplifting the same burdens
Time and time again
To a Savior we half believe in.
And our hearts cry longingly
To a forgiving Father
We so desperately use to seek
But have become stagnant in faith
And distracted by the politics
That we, the body, have created.

On Photograph: Ice Storm 1971

Untitled
by Lola Song

I do not know what makes people recall
Their sealed memories. But I know
for Natasha Trethewey, a simple photograph
of a woman will do:
A picture
taken on a morning of 1971,
when there was a woman standing inside
a clean yet plain house looking at the camera frowning,
and when behind her there was a big window,
showing a glimpse of the outside world.
A storm just passed
Or still passing.


Introduction
This poem describes a picture in which a woman stands inside the house and outside there is an ice storm. When I first read the poem, “1971” as specific information attracted my eyes. I realized it might not be an appropriate approach to do a research about the author before reading and analyzing a poem. However, since Native Guard is a collective work of autobiographical poems by Natasha Trethewey, I felt compelled to have several important facts about the poet and her mother (one of the most repetitive figures that shows up in Native Guard) at hand before getting started to read the poem.

Here I did my little calculation: Natasha Trethewey was born in 1966, so by the year the photograph was taken, she was only five years old. And since her mother remarried her stepfather before she went to grade school, this picture was taken not long after the remarriage. This stepfather killed her mother fifteen years later. Bearing those facts in mind, when I read the poem, I imagined that I was listening to a CD of memories that had been recorded by a five-year-old girl. That helped me to stand in five-year-old Natasha Trethewey’s shoes and feel the way she felt.

Estrangement

Why the rough edge of beauty? Why
the tired face of a woman, suffering,
made luminous by the camera's eye?
(1-3)

At the very beginning, Natasha Trethewey is very careful to guard her feelings. She is going to talk about her dead mother, whose death seems to be a grief that she will take forever get over. Saving the emotion for the rest of the poem, Natasha starts the lines in a quite unattached way, instead of pointing out that the tired and suffering person in the photo was her mother, she simply puts “rough edge of beauty”, “a woman”(1-2). This seems simple and normal.

Later in the poem, we still can see her purposeful usage of this estrangement. For example, in the forth triplet, when she is giving the setting information—the front yard, she describes it as “a beautiful, strange place” (12).

An Equivoque-- Ice Storm

Or [why] the storm that drives us inside
for days, power lines down, food rotting
in the refrigerator…
(4-6)

The ice storm does not arrive until the second triplet, following the image of the middle-aged woman. Literally, it was a real storm swept the whole area. The storm was severe since evidence such as “drive us inside for days”, “power lines down”, and “food rotting in the refrigerator” (4-6) are provided. But not only that. To the five-year-old Natasha Trethewey, the storm meant something more terrible, a storm inside the house—the family violence. Since the storm kept them inside, there was no running away from that.

Outside, everything seemed to be coated with ice.
the landscape glistens beneath a glaze
of ice[…]
the iced trees, each leaf in its glassy case
(7-10)

Words and phrases such as “glaze of ice”, “iced trees” and “leaf in glassy case” (7-10) are delicately used. All together they contribute to a picture that everything has a slim layer of ice over it. This gave me a cold and fragile feeling. Since ice is everywhere, everything then is so easy to break. Does that also point out the chronic angers of her stepfather? In that sense, the storm will be a real disaster for the girl and her mother: it bring the “‘mother” and the “stepfather’s fist” closer.

Superficial Happiness
(a comparison of inside storm and outside storm)

Another thing I thought would be interesting was the different emotional colorings of the inside and outside world. Let us compare these two descriptions:

Or the storm that drives us inside
for days, power lines down, food rotting
in the refrigerator, while outside

the landscape glistens beneath a glaze
of ice? Why remember anything
but the wonder of those few days,

the iced trees, each leaf in its glassy case?
(4-10)

When picturing the inside, all words indicate a sick feeling: “drive us inside”, “power lines down”, and “food rotting”(4-6), while talking about the outside, scenes turn out to be much prettier and more decent: “landscape glistens beneath a glaze of ice” (8-9). Why is there such a huge shift? Why is there such a wonderful outside when there is an ugly inside?

We probably will get a close answer if we would like to compare it with the other storm happening in this house—the family violence.

why on the back has someone made a list
of our names, the date, the event: nothing
of what's inside—mother, stepfather's fist?
(13-15)

In this in-house storm, “the list of our names, the date, and the event” written by “someone” (13-14) are all false, nothing real in them. The superficial happiness is a lie, a lie that hurts mom and “I”, and a lie that “we” did not dare to debunk.

Just to make this statement more fully developed. Here I reference Nadi Nuhu’ idea about extending this theory to a larger sense: superficial happiness or peacefulness is not enough for understanding history. For example, in African American history, the most famous picture of the five men standing together representing first Louisiana Native Guard does not tell anything about the cruelty of discrimination they faced. When we want to really know the history for sure, we will have to go inside the storm and see what was going on there.

In Terms of Rhyme
The poem is made up of five triplets, with each following an aba scheme. One of the interesting things I came up with was that all the central lines end up with ing. It made me feel that her painful feelings towards her mother were still ongoing. The story happened in the past is still happening. I guessed that it could be related to Natasha Trethewey’s time and space theories, that there will always be a piece of memory that is hard to forget, and it will stay no matter what.

Someone will take your picture:
The photograph—who you were—
Will be waiting you when you return
(18-21, Theories of Time and Space, Native Guard)

An Analysis of Trethewey's "Photograph: Ice Storm, 1971" (H) Class Post. 1/28/2010

Natasha Trethewey’s “Photograph: Ice Storm, 1971” reminded me somewhat of how I feel while I am looking at a photograph. Not only am I literally looking at the picture and reminded of what was going on, that photograph also takes me back to that particular time in my life. I will further explore what I believe are Trethewey’s conscious thoughts while looking at the photograph, and the various themes throughout the poem.

One of the things that I immediately notice the first time that I read the poem was Trethewey’s interesting rhyme scheme. In each tercet the middle line has the same rhyme scheme which seems to suggest to me a meaning of things changing around someone but there always is always a consistency factor.

I also immediately notice the way the poem seems to contradict everything that someone typically thinks about what talking about a photograph and a home. Normally photographs are thought of as something that captures the good times and great memories. Also, when someone normally looks back at a photograph it almost makes you smile and remember good times. However, it seems that as Trethewey looks back at this particular photograph of her lost mother she seems to be reminded of the days of emotional highs and lows. She seems to think about watching her mother suffer, and how the photograph seems to capture and remind her of more bad than good. Also, it captures everything except for the fact that her stepfather used to physically abuse her mother. This also ties in with Trethewey’s theme of home in this poem and “Theories of Time and Space.” Most people think that home is the one place that you should be able to go and feel safe and happy. However, Trethewey refers to her front yard as “a beautiful, strange place.”

The theme of preservation, the way that things appear and the way that they actually are, also seems to be a big theme to me. Trethewey constantly mentions things that seem preserved and how they look from the outside. For example, she mentions the “food rotting in the refrigerator” which suggests to me that if you just looked at the refrigerator by itself you would not see anything wrong, however the food inside of it is rotting. This could be a metaphor for the way her home was. She also talks about the landscape that “glistens beneath a glaze of ice” and “each leaf in its glassy case.” All these different pictures that she paints remind us of things that look great on the outside but might not be that way at all. However, she brings this preservation theme to a close when she notes that someone was making a list of their names and the date and what was going on but they don’t note” what’s inside-mother, stepfather’s fist.” All that seems to be captured in the photograph is this ice storm but not what was going home at home.

This poem raises a lot of questions for me such as: What is home? Where is home? Do we subconsciously accept whatever looks good on the outside instead of looking deeper?

A Deeper Look Into Trethewey's "After your Death" (H) – Class Post 01/26/2010

The poem I have chosen to look at in more depth is “After your Death” an assigned poem for class. I will explore the moods, symbolism, and sounds in the poem that I noticed both in my initial reading of the poem and after careful analysis. I will also take a look at how the poem related to life even now, not only in the times of the Civil War.

Immediately while reading the poem I noticed the changing moods of the poem indicated in the different stanzas. The title instantly puts a mood of sadness to the poem, which is continued in the first stanza, although the narrator is very matter-of-fact about what must be done. However, with words like “emptied,” and phrases such as “bruised from your touch,” it is easy to feel the depression of the speaker and the true emptiness they must feel from the death of the loved one they have lost. In the second stanza, there is a more hopeful feeling in the words. The narrator talks of things being “preserved” as though there is still hope. Also, he speaks of another day and a later time to come, indicating that all is not lost and there is still life in his emotions. The third and forth stanzas took me back to a sad and depressed feeling using wording such as “rotting,” “split,” “swarm” and “hollowing.” It also brought back the theme of emptiness and loss. Nevertheless, in the last line of the poem we are taken aback by the hopeful voice that comes through speaking of the possibilities of tomorrow.

Although the speaker uses symbolism throughout the poem to represent how she is feeling, I noticed the greatest amount of symbolism in the third stanza of this poem. I saw this particularly in the figs that were picked by the narrator. I find that the first fig being already half-eaten and partially rotting symbolized the type of emotions she could have been feeling. Her feelings are symbolized even more so in the second fig. The fact that it was “being taken from the inside” represented the pain she felt that must have been tearing her apart from the inside, although it wasn’t always obvious to an outsider.

Using the sounds of the poem when I read it out loud I noticed that the end of each line went on into the next with the exception of the last two lines. It is as if the narrator is trudging along but forcing herself to continue to the next step. I found this interesting because she is again showing her feelings through the way the poem is written.

Personally, I was especially affected by this poem because of the way it was very relatable to anyone who has experienced the loss of a loved one. The mixture of feelings and the grieving process of feeling depressed and empty while also having hope for the future that you are still able to live really reminded me of my own experiences. I appreciated that the poem ended on a note of hopefulness and an optimistic look at “Tomorrow, the bowl I have yet to fill.”

An Analysis of Symbolism in Hathaway's "Oh, Oh" (H) Class Post. Jan. 19th 2010

William Hathaway’s “Oh, Oh” is a poem that sets a picturesque scene of youthful dreams being shared between two young lovers, walking together idly, side by side, on a summer day in the country side. They are lost in their own little world, enjoying themselves and the pleasantness of their inner worlds-- until they happen upon a menacing sight. Hathaway utilizes many poetic devices that deliver his message with impact; that the passage of time often reveals a reality different from that of our dreams.

The first thing that caught my attention in this poem was its use of casual, and at times even outright childish language. Cows become “moo cows,” trains “choo-choos.” In the first sentence, the speaker says “My girl and I amble down a country lane,” so this, along with the simple, childish language, creates the scenery of a young couple spending a lazy summer day together, completely at ease with each other— perhaps a very young pair of teenagers in love, or a pair of adults so completely unguarded, they’re indulging in childish speak together. Their "own sweet saliva green with grass stems" relates closely to the imagery of the "moo cows chomping daisies," perhaps to signify their unawareness and blissful ignorance as they meander along in their own little world. Other language the writer uses to this point to describe the interactions between the two are words such as “funny,” “gaily,” “dreamily,” “loyally,” all of which have connotations of youthful naïveté.

The second thing that I noticed was the use of a train as a motif. Trains are a symbol for time, transformation, or progress. In this poem, the train is a symbol for time, in particular. As they take notice of the “choo-choo,” with its headlight mistakenly shining in the summer sun, the narrator mentions his dream of being president, to which his young love responds, “And me first lady,”—A response typical of a very young girl in love with her head in the clouds, willing to devote the rest of her life and sign away personal aspirations to follow her beau to the end of the earth. This wishful dialogue between the two young lovers reinforces the theme of youthful naïveté, willfully ignorant of the more unpleasant sides of life. It is not a coincidence that these dreams coincide with the passing of “the last boxcars,/ named after wonderful, far away places” (such as the ones in our dreams.) When the boxcars disappear, the two lovebird’s daydreams are suddenly burst by the sight of fifty menacing Hell’s Angels appearing, leaving the reader to wonder, What will happen to them now?

The headlight seemed to symbolize something about the couple to me as well. Perhaps the conductor's careless act of leaving the train light on during daylight symbolizes that they are plowing on full speed ahead carelessly, without taking time to contemplate their actions or surroundings, both immediate and long-term. Another thing the headlights could represent is the oncoming of night, and its darkness, an image that may reflect the transition of our lives from carefree youth to jaded and wizened elders.

Whether the Hell's Angels leave the two alone, give them some trouble, or worse, their appearance certainly makes the poem’s message clear: our innocent wishes and dreams are all too often dashed by life’s uglier realities. I think this poem certainly makes a statement about how such dreams can be crushed by the passage of time, as we face and witness more and more obstacles and evils in our lifetime. Commonly, we begin to lower our standards or develop a thick skin as we mature in order to protect ourselves from such unavoidable experiences. For better or for worse, we cannot allow ourselves to be caught off guard, as these two young lovers are, to find the many variations of the life’s Hell’s Angels, “poised and growling,” waiting to pray upon us.