About This Page:
I wanted to use a page on this blog to share some thoughts on poets I've read and their works. For some of the poets I'll give reviews of books that I've read, and for all poets I'll share some individual poems that I particularly enjoyed (or didn't). If a poem is linked, it means I've found it online. If you know of a link that I don't have, feel free to leave in in a comment, and I'll add it. Enjoy!Jump to a Poet:
Margaret Atwood (Morning in the Burned House)
Elizabeth Bishop (North & South, miscellaneous poems)
Stuart Dybek (Streets in Their Own Ink)
Li-Young Lee (Rose)
Ellen Bryant Voigt (miscellaneous poems)
- Casabianca: Beautiful and tragic. A reference to Felicia Heman’s poem by the same name, and to the fact that the poem was often memorized and recited by schoolchildren, often as an elocutionary exercise. There have been many parodies of this poem, cued by the first line “The boy stood on the burning deck,” but Bishop takes a tone more in line with that of the original poem, equating the boy to love. The repetition in the last line is perfect, “And love’s the burning boy.”
- Love Lies Sleeping: Again beautiful, and again sad, but I wouldn’t say tragic. The sadness is softer.
- Sleeping Standing Up: A very interesting extended metaphor, dreams as tanks plowing through a forest of thoughts. It’s very self-conscious, and even self-admonishing at the end, realizing one’s own carelessness.
(Miscellaneous poems)
- The Bight: I love how Bishop latches onto such detail, and describes it with so concisely and powerfully. The last two lines are actually carved into her gravestone - "All the untidy activity continues, awful but cheerful."
- One Art: One of Bishop's most famous poems, I think, and probably the most commonly known villanelle in English poetry. I really love this poem, especially the creativity in the rhyme scheme (i.e. rhyming "last, or" with master/disaster", and the biting, self-directed command "Write it!" in the last line. Usually for me, villanelles get tiresome with their repetition, but the repetition in this piece strengthens its message of the narrator trying to convince herself of what she herself is saying.
Overall: Not bad, but probably not someone who’s work I’ll re-read. Streets in Their Own Ink had a lot about cities, as should be obvious from the title. Some poems had just the right amount of grittiness and sparkle, but many weren’t spectacular in their use of language. Surprising amount of religious imagery.
Elizabeth Bishop (North & South, miscellaneous poems)
Stuart Dybek (Streets in Their Own Ink)
Li-Young Lee (Rose)
Ellen Bryant Voigt (miscellaneous poems)
Poet: Margaret Atwood
(click here for her website, and here for her bio on the Poetry Foundation website)
Overall: I really
like her. Such a wonderfully cynical,
wryly depressed tone. There are some
strange images (lots of nature, really well done), but usually the language
doesn’t stand out too much, in a familiar way – instead of being wildly shiny, it’s plain and
perfect, as if it has always just been there and that’s exactly how it should
be.
Books:
Morning
in the Burned House:
Wonderful. Just wonderful. So dark and sarcastic and wry, but lovable.
First section is about loneliness, of life just dragging on and generally being a disappointment, but not in a melodramatic way. More of a “this is all there is, isn’t it” kind of way, if that makes sense. Very similar to how I’ve been feeling lately (i.e. the "self-indulgent melancholy" in Elegy on Sleep).
Second section is a lot about sex, and little of it sweet, but the way she holds it as sort of an object made it fascinating instead of repulsive. Also sort of about relationships, physical pleasure versus true happiness. Really interesting because there were a lot of poems about historical or mythological women, including a virtuosic one called “Ava Gardener Reincarnated as a Magnolia.” Out of the seven poems in the section, only one is about a man’s perspective, and it’s interesting the approach Atwood uses. He has actual thoughts and feelings, unlike most of the other men described briefly in the book (except her father, later).
Third section is on the inevitability of endings, flaws in human nature that are despicable, but that we sympathize deeply with, because they are just so human.
Fourth section is on her father’s final days and then his death. So gentle, soft, dark, understated. Everything is. Wonderful repeated images throughout this section, including a beach, water, cold, her father’s hand that doesn’t work for some reason. Many pieces dealing with memory, some pieces dealing with other members of her family.
Fifth section, in this context, seems to deal with the aftermath of this loss of her father, although you can’t really know what order the poems were written in. Either way, they were put together in this order for a reason, and I think it’s to draw connections between the loss and again loneliness described in the fifth section and the death of the father. It’s all so perfectly and heartbreakingly sad.
Wonderful. Just wonderful. So dark and sarcastic and wry, but lovable.
First section is about loneliness, of life just dragging on and generally being a disappointment, but not in a melodramatic way. More of a “this is all there is, isn’t it” kind of way, if that makes sense. Very similar to how I’ve been feeling lately (i.e. the "self-indulgent melancholy" in Elegy on Sleep).
Second section is a lot about sex, and little of it sweet, but the way she holds it as sort of an object made it fascinating instead of repulsive. Also sort of about relationships, physical pleasure versus true happiness. Really interesting because there were a lot of poems about historical or mythological women, including a virtuosic one called “Ava Gardener Reincarnated as a Magnolia.” Out of the seven poems in the section, only one is about a man’s perspective, and it’s interesting the approach Atwood uses. He has actual thoughts and feelings, unlike most of the other men described briefly in the book (except her father, later).
Third section is on the inevitability of endings, flaws in human nature that are despicable, but that we sympathize deeply with, because they are just so human.
Fourth section is on her father’s final days and then his death. So gentle, soft, dark, understated. Everything is. Wonderful repeated images throughout this section, including a beach, water, cold, her father’s hand that doesn’t work for some reason. Many pieces dealing with memory, some pieces dealing with other members of her family.
Fifth section, in this context, seems to deal with the aftermath of this loss of her father, although you can’t really know what order the poems were written in. Either way, they were put together in this order for a reason, and I think it’s to draw connections between the loss and again loneliness described in the fifth section and the death of the father. It’s all so perfectly and heartbreakingly sad.
Favorite Poems:
(Morning in the Burned
House)
- A Sad Child: Cynical and lovely. Many of the poems in this book refer to “you,” which, oftentimes, I took for Atwood talking to herself or a version of herself. This is one of those times. “You’re sad because you’re sad.” Perfect first line.
- In the Secular Night: Seems a lot like the adolescent and then grown-up version of “A Sad Child.” Such loneliness, such sadness, that Atwood holds with a kind of disdain, even though I still take the addressee to be herself. There’s disdain and yet a sort of inherent sympathy.
- February: Begins with the cat routinely determining if the narrator is dead – "If I’m not, he wants to be scratched; if I am / he’ll think of something.” Perfect apathy. And yet, unlike the others, this one ends with a wish for optimism. I've written a response poem to this one, which can be found here.
- Miss July Grows Older: I can’t get over how fantastic the first two lines are – “How much longer can I get away / with being so fucking cute?”
- Half-Hanged Mary: Fascinating. From the perspective of a woman who was hanged for witchcraft, but survived the entire night just hanging there. Told in sections for almost every hour, and then a section called “Later”. So wonderfully dark, so strong!
- Flowers: One about her father. Initial image is an incredible reversal of the term “flower girl” – instead of referring to a flower girl at a wedding, this is the narrator bringing fresh flowers for her dying father.
- Two Dreams, 2: There’s the first “Two Dreams,” where she has two dreams about her father, then “Time,” where her father actually dies, and now “Two Dreams, 2”, where she and her sister each share one dream about the father. The last stanza is incredible, beginning with “In the daylight we know / what’s gone is gone, / but at night it’s different.”
- Oh: Heartbreaking. Being at a loss for words for this pain, only being able to say “Oh.” Talks about the cycle of seasons, then softly implies death. And then ends with “This is a good thought.” as stanza all by itself.
- Up: Probably my all-time favorite from this book. About struggling to get out of bed in the morning. A very familiar heaviness. I love, “What prevents you? The future. The future tense, / immense as outer space.”
- The Signer: Very cool piece about performing (or reading or doing a lecture – it’s unspecified) and knowing there’s a woman signing your spoken words, about being translated “into bone”.
- Morning in the Burned House: The final and titular piece. The memory of a previously mentioned house burning to the ground, only this time, Atwood is remembering her young self in the house as it burns. It echoes so powerfully the loss present throughout the other poems, the things that are now only sore memories, and regrets. The bright death is described so beautifully at the end.
- A Sad Child: Cynical and lovely. Many of the poems in this book refer to “you,” which, oftentimes, I took for Atwood talking to herself or a version of herself. This is one of those times. “You’re sad because you’re sad.” Perfect first line.
- In the Secular Night: Seems a lot like the adolescent and then grown-up version of “A Sad Child.” Such loneliness, such sadness, that Atwood holds with a kind of disdain, even though I still take the addressee to be herself. There’s disdain and yet a sort of inherent sympathy.
- February: Begins with the cat routinely determining if the narrator is dead – "If I’m not, he wants to be scratched; if I am / he’ll think of something.” Perfect apathy. And yet, unlike the others, this one ends with a wish for optimism. I've written a response poem to this one, which can be found here.
- Miss July Grows Older: I can’t get over how fantastic the first two lines are – “How much longer can I get away / with being so fucking cute?”
- Half-Hanged Mary: Fascinating. From the perspective of a woman who was hanged for witchcraft, but survived the entire night just hanging there. Told in sections for almost every hour, and then a section called “Later”. So wonderfully dark, so strong!
- Flowers: One about her father. Initial image is an incredible reversal of the term “flower girl” – instead of referring to a flower girl at a wedding, this is the narrator bringing fresh flowers for her dying father.
- Two Dreams, 2: There’s the first “Two Dreams,” where she has two dreams about her father, then “Time,” where her father actually dies, and now “Two Dreams, 2”, where she and her sister each share one dream about the father. The last stanza is incredible, beginning with “In the daylight we know / what’s gone is gone, / but at night it’s different.”
- Oh: Heartbreaking. Being at a loss for words for this pain, only being able to say “Oh.” Talks about the cycle of seasons, then softly implies death. And then ends with “This is a good thought.” as stanza all by itself.
- Up: Probably my all-time favorite from this book. About struggling to get out of bed in the morning. A very familiar heaviness. I love, “What prevents you? The future. The future tense, / immense as outer space.”
- The Signer: Very cool piece about performing (or reading or doing a lecture – it’s unspecified) and knowing there’s a woman signing your spoken words, about being translated “into bone”.
- Morning in the Burned House: The final and titular piece. The memory of a previously mentioned house burning to the ground, only this time, Atwood is remembering her young self in the house as it burns. It echoes so powerfully the loss present throughout the other poems, the things that are now only sore memories, and regrets. The bright death is described so beautifully at the end.
Poet: Elizabeth Bishop
(click here for her bio on the Poetry Foundation website)
Overall: In the book of hers that I checked out, someone had written
“P.S. Bishop is not austere as somebody seems to think.” And I agree with
whoever wrote that. In many of her poems, the narrator seems barely to be
present, and the pieces focus on certain specific details of whatever they’re
describing. But after a few close readings, it’s clear that the narrator must
actually be very observant, to have seen these subtle things that carry the
meaning of the poem. I was also amazed by Bishop’s control of rhyme. Some of
her pieces have very overt end-rhymes, in couplets or quatrains or
what-have-you. But every one of her poems has a great attention to sound,
sometimes with subtle or tricky end-rhyme schemes, sometimes just ending with a
rhymed couplet. It’s always lovely.
Favorite Poems:
(North & South)
- The Map: Particularly interesting rhyme scheme. The first and third stanzas are organized in a
Petrarchan rhyme scheme (abbacddc), and
there are even self-rhymes, which are particularly difficult to do well, but which add a neat kind of emphasized repetition to this piece. The middle stanza has no rhymes at all, but is shaped as very natural free-verse. I love the last line, “More delicate than the historians’ are the map-makers’ colors.” It reminds me of my own For the Cartographers, with the same kind of fascination for the artistry
and imagination maps can have, but delivered in a much different way.- Casabianca: Beautiful and tragic. A reference to Felicia Heman’s poem by the same name, and to the fact that the poem was often memorized and recited by schoolchildren, often as an elocutionary exercise. There have been many parodies of this poem, cued by the first line “The boy stood on the burning deck,” but Bishop takes a tone more in line with that of the original poem, equating the boy to love. The repetition in the last line is perfect, “And love’s the burning boy.”
- Love Lies Sleeping: Again beautiful, and again sad, but I wouldn’t say tragic. The sadness is softer.
- Sleeping Standing Up: A very interesting extended metaphor, dreams as tanks plowing through a forest of thoughts. It’s very self-conscious, and even self-admonishing at the end, realizing one’s own carelessness.
(Miscellaneous poems)
- The Bight: I love how Bishop latches onto such detail, and describes it with so concisely and powerfully. The last two lines are actually carved into her gravestone - "All the untidy activity continues, awful but cheerful."
- One Art: One of Bishop's most famous poems, I think, and probably the most commonly known villanelle in English poetry. I really love this poem, especially the creativity in the rhyme scheme (i.e. rhyming "last, or" with master/disaster", and the biting, self-directed command "Write it!" in the last line. Usually for me, villanelles get tiresome with their repetition, but the repetition in this piece strengthens its message of the narrator trying to convince herself of what she herself is saying.
Poet: Stuart Dybek
(click here for his bio on the Poetry Foundation website)Overall: Not bad, but probably not someone who’s work I’ll re-read. Streets in Their Own Ink had a lot about cities, as should be obvious from the title. Some poems had just the right amount of grittiness and sparkle, but many weren’t spectacular in their use of language. Surprising amount of religious imagery.
Books:
Streets in
Their Own Ink:
Pretty cool. Some pieces were really sharp, but many were pretty average, nothing special. Second and third parts of have a few poems with a little too much sex stuff which was just uninteresting. The book in itself seemed cohesive in terms of subject matter and tone, but the three sections it was split into didn't seem to have any progression or theme. Except for the fact that the second section had more about relationships or sex in an impersonal city, and the third section is just two very long poems (split into sections themselves) connected by one short one, the division of parts seemed pretty arbitrary.
Pretty cool. Some pieces were really sharp, but many were pretty average, nothing special. Second and third parts of have a few poems with a little too much sex stuff which was just uninteresting. The book in itself seemed cohesive in terms of subject matter and tone, but the three sections it was split into didn't seem to have any progression or theme. Except for the fact that the second section had more about relationships or sex in an impersonal city, and the third section is just two very long poems (split into sections themselves) connected by one short one, the division of parts seemed pretty arbitrary.
Favorite Poems:
(Streets in Their Own
Ink)
- Windy City: Cool imagery, lots of movement. Breezy way of presenting the idea of life without much thought. “In a city like that one might sail / through life led by a runaway hat.”
- Fish Camp: Love the ending - just the right amount of darkness.
- Benediction: Blend of city, natural, and religious imagery.
- Christening: Fantastic diction, especially the end. I love the description of the birds, especially “...a cry less to do with language / than the vocalization of snow...” Reminds me of my own Birdsong, and carries the same sense of wonder that I tried to convey, but in the end, the source of the wonder is quite different.
- Kitty-Corner: Really wanted the title to be cat-corner, because it sounds less childish. But it’s a cool poem – main subject is a gutted phone booth, which Dybek uses to contemplate something like the future in a subtle and natural way.
- Three Nocturnes (1): So brief, with such short couplets. Lonely and powerful. “What’s the plural of dark? / Nighthawks...”
- Revelation: What if the past was as unknowable as the future? The revelation of it might be just as heavy.
- Anti-Memoir (2, 4, 5, 6, 9): Poems seem dream-like, and yet the language is sharp.
- Windy City: Cool imagery, lots of movement. Breezy way of presenting the idea of life without much thought. “In a city like that one might sail / through life led by a runaway hat.”
- Fish Camp: Love the ending - just the right amount of darkness.
- Benediction: Blend of city, natural, and religious imagery.
- Christening: Fantastic diction, especially the end. I love the description of the birds, especially “...a cry less to do with language / than the vocalization of snow...” Reminds me of my own Birdsong, and carries the same sense of wonder that I tried to convey, but in the end, the source of the wonder is quite different.
- Kitty-Corner: Really wanted the title to be cat-corner, because it sounds less childish. But it’s a cool poem – main subject is a gutted phone booth, which Dybek uses to contemplate something like the future in a subtle and natural way.
- Three Nocturnes (1): So brief, with such short couplets. Lonely and powerful. “What’s the plural of dark? / Nighthawks...”
- Revelation: What if the past was as unknowable as the future? The revelation of it might be just as heavy.
- Anti-Memoir (2, 4, 5, 6, 9): Poems seem dream-like, and yet the language is sharp.
Not-so-favorite
Poems:
(Streets in Their Own
Ink)
- Shoesa: Interesting subject, a Polish uncle buried without his shoes. A lot of the language is perfectly gritty and scuffed, but the last line ruined the tone.
Poet: Li-Young Lee
(click here for his bio on the Poetry Foundation website)
Books:
Rose:
This is definitely a book I need to check out again and spend more time on. It's absolutely gorgeous. The first section mostly about his younger memories, with newer ones spread
between when he’s reminded of them.
Incredible ability to carry images through poems, connecting other poems
with them, feelings coming through and changing in the next poem. Sort of a stream-of consciousness train of
thought throughout the book. Four more
abstract poems, then “Eating Alone”.
Second section composed entirely of one poem, “Always a Rose”, which has
ten parts, a sort of meditation of roses and different associations and
memories. Third section greatly deals
with his father’s death and life afterwards, begins with “Eating
Together”. Also, his wife and son, and
more with memory. Everything is so
meditative. Narrator is present and yet
sort of distant, all of it very calm, and the narrator is so watchful, he’s
usually in the background. Even when he
references himself, he rarely asserts his presence. Family has a huge presence, as does nature.
Favorite Poems:
(Rose)
- Persimmons: One of my favorite poems of all time. I love the focus on language – a Chinese boy learning the
difference between English certain words, like persimmon
and precision, fight and fright. The narrative switches masterfully between
different memories of his teacher, his wife, his mother, his father. It’s all so lovely and tender. The image of a persimmon is carried through
the piece, because “Some things never
leave a person...”
Poet: Ellen Bryant Voigt
(Click here for her bio on Poetry Foundation)
Favorite Poems:
(Miscellaneous poems)
- Blue Ridge: Perhaps the loneliest poem I've ever encountered. Beautifully so, though. The normally celebratory, exciting image of fireworks transformed into something distant, passing, and sad. The narrator has such awareness of her own desires, and how fulfilling the simplest of them won't bring true happiness. And the heartbreaking question, "How have I managed so long to stand among the paired bodies...?"
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