Reading Myself

"As I read this poem, I picture an artist. In order for this artist to bring about his art, he must focus on things or subjects that he is passionate about. He is not an artist who can write and epic from the gentle and fleeting feelings that arise from smelling a flower or stubbing a toe. He knows all of the technical aspects or the art of writing by heart. Despite his knowing the technical aspects of writing to a level of mastery, he has never been able to create something of great importance to be contributed to what he has memorized. Thus far, he has only been able to create works that, although they are good according to the rules of writing, they do not breathe; none of his work is alive; his works are all “wax flowers.” Yet, without this base of works that are correct according to the rules of writing as a foundation, no great piece of original work can be born from this artist. The hope of the artist is to give birth to the work that will live long enough to be enjoyed by others even after the artist himself has died." by autumnweldon. This is a blog I read on line because I wasn't sure if anyone was thinking anything similar to me. It is like people who have the technical knowledge of doing things, but they never feel like they are doing something good. It is never quality because it is never real. It doesn't live with emotion which is why I think he only made it to the smaller hills of Parnassus. The things he does are technically good, but they are not emotionally satisfying. This is like writing for me. I know technically how to make it "good" writing, but it is never going to be like Cormac McCarthy or Zora Neale Hurston because I don't know how to write well. I am not a borne writer even though I try. I like this poem a lot. I think everyone can relate in some way to this and everyone knows that inadequate feeling and that feeling of disappointment.

Personal Helicon

Helicon:

• Helicon (planet), fictional planet in Isaac Asimov's Foundation Series
• Helicon is the name of the home planet of Hari Seldon, discoverer and developer of psychohistory. Helicon was small in population and not particularly rich in resources, and tended to be bullied by its more powerful neighbors. 
• Perhaps this is why he resorts to wells? Maybe he feels no one else accepts him or is like him, but the wells see him for who he is and he knows the wells for the beauty they hold. 

• Helicon (musical instrument), brass musical instrument
• This could go along with his voice echoing back with new music when he yells down into the wells.

• Helicon (river), a river from Greek mythology   
• There is also a river called Helikon [in Pieria]. After a course of seventy-five stades the stream hereupon disappears under the earth. After a gap of about twenty-two stades the water rises again, and under the name of Baphyras instead of Helikon flows into the sea as a navigable river. The people of Dion (Dium) say that at first this River flowed on land throughout its course. But, they go on to say, the women who killed Orpheus wished to wash off in it the blood-stains, and thereat the River sank underground, so as not to lend its waters to cleanse manslaughter.
• Maybe this could go along with the reference to Narcissus in the last stanza.

Well I really didn't like this poem at first, but after reading it a few times I liked it more. The first stanza is a quatrain that sort of epitomizes that passion or fascination we all have as children. Each child finds in their own sense a thing they believe will be the most interesting thing in their entire life, for the rest of their life. The author's was wells. "They could not keep me from wells" says the author in his very first line. Many times I think adults should still feel this way. If you have a passion or a drive then there should be nothing to stop you from getting it. When we are children we do things because we want to even when others say we shouldn't. I never knew why we lost this when we became adults. The second stanza, another quatrain, is just adding in detail his passion for the wells he came across. He distinctly recalls one well, just like each person who has grown from their childhood passions remembers distinctly some things that caught their attention. It shows what a fascinating thing the mind can be. He remembers the smell, the sounds, what he saw. Maybe it was ten, or twenty, or thirty years ago, but he remembers it all. It is still right there. The third stanza is another quatrain and it is another recollection of the wells he found as a kid. Perhaps adding more detail to show why he found them so interesting or why he could never be taken from them. The white face he sees is himself. Maybe the things we are fascinated with are things that we feels reflect us in some aspect. Perhaps people saw the author as an everyday commodity, but in reality he takes much more engineering to create and his character goes deeper than what people get to see. Maybe the author hides himself from others. There is that three foot bit that stands above ground for everyone to see, but there is another twenty feet that no one gets to see.  The fourth stanza is a quatrain and it talks about the new voice he hears when he is with the well. No person can echo his voice back with "music" in it like the well does. He loves the well because the well can let him hear a new voice inside himself. It renews his passion. It seems like he loses himself in the reflection of the well and the rat at the bottom snaps him back to reality. The last stanza is another quatrain that connects all stanzas. He talks of watching himself in previous stanzas and in the last he makes an allusion to Narcissus. He then talks about how adults would never do as he does, but what he does makes him see himself. He gets to be himself with the wells and that is also explained in previous stanzas. I ended up liking this poem a lot in the end. It is probably one of my favorites.

Song of the Powers

I really liked this poem because it is all about a self serving happiness. The rock is happy because it gets to "crush the scissors" and it thinks it is the all ruling power. The scissors think the same thing. They cut the paper and the paper thinks it's the best because it covers the rock. In the end they all end up losing in one way or another. None rule all because each one can be crushed by another. I just don't get the very end part because it says "They all end alone. As you will, you will." and I thought at first it meant that we will literally end up by ourselves, but then I thought it meant that no matter how much better you think you are than someone, there will always be someone better. We can't be good at everything, but we can do lots of things well. There will always be some sort of leveler in our lives. Something that tells us we are still human and we are above no one. I liked the set up of the poem. The rock comes first because we always think that a rock is the most powerful, then the paper comes next because it is the thing that beats the rock. Then comes the scissors that beat the paper, that beat the rock. It's like a climb down the ladder. The last stanza tells us what we should watch out for and how the whole winning thing works. None is better than another. You have the same chance of winning as you do losing with every potion you may choose. Overall, I liked the poem a lot. I think it's a great life lesson.

Untitled

This poem really interested me because of my gross natural curiosity. When I first read it, I thought of The Road when the boy and the man find the people in the cellar of the house. "Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it." made me think that when you have something you should do with it what you can. This man's heart is keeping him alive. It not only allows him to "love" but it also nourishes his body. When he claims it is "bitter" but he still enjoys it, it makes me think that even though our hearts may not be the purest or sweetest things in the world, they are still ours and there are still things we can enjoy and love about them. No one has a "heart of gold" because we all hate things we shouldn't and judge people before we know them and have biases, but in the end we know that it is still our own heart. The only thing I could think to compare it to would be a child who is misbehaving, and even though the parents are still upset, they love the child. They cannot help, but love the child. They know there is better within the child and hope the "better" will show itself one day, but it is still there child. They still love it and want to help it. They may have wanted a window seat, but they aren't complaining about the isle. The natural human can hate and be cruel and rude and dishonest and at the end of the day they still very much "like" their heart because it is theirs. It is all they have. It is their own and no one else has a heart like it. The author has one short line which engages the reader because it is like a cliff hanger. It makes them want to know more about "In the desert". The short line is followed by two or three longer lines adding detail to the short line. So the short line is the hook and the longer lines are like the door shutting behind you. There really is no way to back out of it at that point because you've been trapped by your interest in the next line. All in all, I really enjoyed this poem a lot. I thought it was extremely interestingly written and it has a very interesting theme.

Curiosity

I enjoyed this poem so much because we hear this phrase so often in society. "Curiosity killed the cat" but it didn't. Curiosity didn't kill Albert Einstien or scientists, or doctors, or lawyers, or teachers, or students, or anyone for that matter. It simply provided that life giving power to all people. "Dogs" in the poem live happy, usual, quiet yet short lives. While "cats" in the poem live for curiosity. They get nine lives because they spend each of them living their curiosities throughout. People not being curious about the next day they could live to see is what causes them to die. People who are not curious about the future have no interest in seeing it and therefore generally don't get to see it. What I didn't like about the poem was that at the end it says, "And what cats have to tell on each return from hell," because I don't feel that the cats should go to hell for being curious, for living a life they enjoy, for getting the most out of every life they live. I think this is completely and utterly unfair because although they may not lead the simple, happy lives of dogs, they don't murder or rape or destroy the world they live in. They are simply curious. Maybe the phrase should be "Curiosity damned the cats."

Questions About Pie

To me you may ask:
Why?
Why pie?
Why do you sigh
when you taste the sweetness of pie
and I may reply
Why?
Why oh, why?
Sincerly, I sigh
And ask myself why?
Why on earth are you still talking?!
I'm trying to eat me pie!!!

The Secret

Two girls discover
the secret of life
in a sudden line of 
poetry.

I who don't know the
secret wrote
the line. They
told me

(through a third person)
they had found it
but not what it was
not even

what line it was. No doubt
by now, more than a week
later, they have forgotten
the secret,

the line, the name of
the poem. I love them
for finding what
I can't find,

and for loving me
for the line I wrote,
and for forgetting it
so that

a thousand times, till death
finds them, they may
discover it again, in other
lines

in other
happenings. And for
wanting to know it,
for

assuming there is
such a secret, yes,
for that
most of all. 

I love this poem a lot. It really made me think of the innocence of childhood and how people can always find a meaning that others don't in some things. First, innocence of children seems to amaze adults which in turn amazes me because it seems like they find the secret to life in a simple line of poetry but we can't find the secret anywhere. It amazes me because I think that if adults looked simply at the little things in life like children do then they could find the secret, but I suppose when you grow up you lose that and that is why people cherish the innocence of children so much. Second,  I remember the first day of English this year and we read a poem about not beating the meaning out of poems because everyone is different and everyone interprets things in a different manner and in this poem I think it was a surprise to the author because as quickly as these girls had found meaning where she couldn't, they forgot and moved on to the next secret of life. I always feel a little biased when i listen to people talk in class about what they thought of a poem because I didn't think that at all, but then I remember that everyone has their own background and knowledge and everyone gets their own opinion. I liked the way this poem was written. Short and to the point, but still meaningful and filled with emotions of the author. Overall, a great poem. Probably one of my favorites so far.