Poetry Response 04

What Do Women Want?

By Kim Addonizio

I enjoyed Addonizio's poem and the amount of feeling put into it. The red dress is obviously important to her and as the main visual object in the poem it comes to hold some power and symbolism behind it. I feel that the dress is like some visual metaphor for the poem's main subject, whom I'm guessing might be Addonzio, and it represents her strength and confidence. The poem also oozes a very "I could do what I want and you can't do anything to stop me" kind of vibe as the subject goes on about how she'd wear her red dress whenever and wherever and she doesn't care about what people think of her, she'll wear her red dress as she pleases! Hearing the poem read aloud by Addonizio herself did change my mind a little. Through the beginning and middle of the poem Addonizio doesn't seem put too much emphasis or real feeling behind her words until she gets to the end of the poem and really lets it out at the " And I'll wear it like bones, like skin, it'll be the goddamn dress they buy me in." There it really has a lot of feeling punched into it and makes the line feel more vital than the rest. 

Poetry Response 03

The Street

Stephen Dobyns

Dobyns's poem is wonderful in that it gives the reader a sort of inside look into the characters that are in the painting. Each stanza is detailed and paints a description for each subject in The Street. When I read the poem first and then looked at the painting I felt that the poem had really made the image more interesting, and even more lively, because the poem had given a sort of backstory to each character. When it gets to the end of the poem however the poem moves away from the characters and gives a sort of somber message with it's last couple of stanzas about how each character "circles" one another and ends up alone. I thought it was an abrupt change in the poem's mood but then I really looked at the painting and it actually looks like each subject in it is just sort of placed into the setting with no connection to each other and they just don't seem to "fit" if that makes any sense. It's also interesting to note that the way Dobyns describes each subject in the painting that are in his poem may just be his personal reflections on them and not what they may actually be like. Maybe Dobyns had seen the painting first and then really put some thought into what he thought the subjects were like before he wrote his poem? 

Original Poem 1- Observing The Ordinary

At The Library

Sometimes I find myself sitting in the back corner of the library,

like some bored owl in the dark sitting on a branch.

Watching.

Listening.

Occasionally yawning and flexing my wings.

Something screeches to my left,

It sounds like a chair being dragged helplessly against its will.

Tires scream from the outside of the building,

like a vehicular murder just took place.

The ceiling lights above me are way too bright,

it’s almost as if I’m staring at a small, mocking sun.

Maybe I’m just more tired than I thought?

From my view the library looks like a shelf forest.

Said forest being filled with many organized dead trees,

neat and stacked straight up in a row,

and sometimes even crooked like a line of drunken soldiers.

They're just begging me to pick them up to read.

Two girls gossip at the table behind me.

I pretend it’s just the books talking.

A laugh in one corner,

that sounds like an animal hacking the end of its life away.

No offense.

I can hear the printer purring and whining,

just waiting for someone to use it like those poor books on the shelves.

The color and pattern of the carpet is questionable,

I wonder if the carpet had any say in it?

There's someone skipping around,

keychains jingling loud and clear,

like some strange bell fairy.

I wonder if they're in a hurry?

Sometimes it's fun to just sit back,

watch,

and listen.

Poetry Response 02

Bodyweight by Matthew Schwartz

My crutches felt heavier than I was.

They landed with a thick thud on the blacktop

each time I took a step. I had to watch how I walked

so I didn’t fall, like the other kids expected.

I liked to leave my crutches half-buried

 behind the sandbox, where I couldn’t see them,

and creep up the uneven monkey bars

arced like the upper half of a globe.

I wanted to see the whole playground.

The rungs crowded too close together,

 and none of them was shaped the same.

I lifted my feet slowly to keep my braces quiet

 against the metal. At the top, I could still hear

the jump rope flying, my friend throwing

handfuls of sand. I slipped. I locked my arms

tighter around whatever bars I could reach, and my leg

 tensed and shook and hit the rung too close to me

when I tried going down, and my foot shot

 through the gap, and dangled there.

I thought I could maybe slide out.

 I thought my body could fit like my foot did,

but I was stuck. Everyone could see me,

everyone could hear me asking myself

What do I do with my body if it’s

not a secret? 

I’m not sure if Shwartz was using an actual event from his life as the basis of this poem but regardless the imagery and struggle surrounding the subject in his poem here had struck a slight personal cord with me. I had broken my ankle when I was a child and for a bit I had to use a crutch while I dealt with my broken limb and its itchy cast. I didn’t like having to walk around school and letting all the other children and adults see how I was at a disadvantage because of what had happened to me. I felt self conscious and even a bit weak. Climbing the stairs was a chore and I couldn’t climb anything when I felt adventurous. Personal feelings aside though the poem, in my opinion, is more of a metaphor for how we don’t like to let our weaknesses keep us from doing what we want but at the same time we also fear letting others play witness to them.

Poetry Response 01

                                       

Be Drunk by Charles Baudelaire

You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it--it's the 
only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks 
your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually 
drunk.


But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be 
drunk.


And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of 
a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, 
drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, 
the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything 
that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is 
singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and 
wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be 
drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be
continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."


While the poem does include alcohol in the grouping of various things to get off of, it is not at all trying to hint at or incite alcoholism. At least I hope it isn’t. Besides that thought I love the feel of the poem and the lack of the usual structure you see in most poems seen here. There’s no real rhyming but somehow the words still have a nice sort of flow to them. As for the feel I get from the poem it’s a very positive one. Baudelaire’s Be Drunk is a poem that tells us that we should seek out the things in life which we can use to overcome the realizations or parts of reality that we eventually face that aren’t to our fancy. Drink, write or read poetry, do something that excites you and fills you with an abundance of good emotions even if you’re down in the dumps. This is the sort of interpretation I basically took away from the poem.