"beware : do not read this poem" by Ishmael Reed - Norton Literature

Ishmael Reed was born in Chattanooga, Tennessee on February 22, 1938.  He acquired his education in Buffalo, New York at the University of Buffalo, where he was awarded an honorary doctorate.  He has won many awards for his literature during his career as a teacher at the University of California, Berkley, and now lives a happy, retired life with his wife in the area.


"beware   :   do not read this poem" by Ishmael Reed


tonite   ,   thriller was
abt an ol woman   ,   so vain she
surrounded herself w /
    many mirrors
it hot so bad that finally she
locked herself indoors & her                                                             5
whole life became
    mirrors


one day the villagers broke
into her house   ,   but she was too                                                   10
swift for them   .   she disappeared
    into a mirror


each tenant who bought the house
after that   ,   lost a loved one to
    the ol woman in the mirror :                                                        15
    first a little girl
    then a young woman
    then the young woman / s husband


the hunger of this poem is legendary
it has taken in many victims                                                            20
back off from his poem
it has drawn in yr feet
back off from this poem
it has drawn in yr legs


back off from this poem                                                                   25
it is a greedy mirror
you are into this poem   .   from
    the waist down
nobody can hear you can they   ?
this poem has had you up to here                                                     30
    belch
this poem aint got no manners
you cant call out frm this poem
relax now & go w /   this poem
move & roll on to this poem                                                             35
this poem has yr eyes
this poem has his head
this poem has his arms
this poem has his fingers                                                                   40
this poem has his fingertips
this poem is the reader & the
reader this poem


statistic   :   the us bureau of missing persons reports
                   that in 1968 over 100,000 people disappeared               45
                   leaving no solid clues
                          nor trace         only
      a space        in the lives of their friends
                                                                                                     [1970]

There are two voices that vie for our attention in this poem: the voice of the narrator, and the voice of the poem itself.  The narrator’s voice recounts an urban legend about a woman who had surrounded herself with mirrors.  When the suspicious village comes to deal with her, she disappeared inside her mirrors.  Ever since, “each tenant who bought the house… lost a loved one to/the ol woman in the mirror.”  However, throughout the poem, the diction, syntax, and punctuation that the narrator makes use of casts doubt on his sanity, especially the lengthened caesuras and the incorrect grammar and punctuation (“into her house   ,   but she was too/swift for them   .   she disappeared”); they subtly yet effectively illustrate his mental state.  Just as we start to deny his credibility and question his stability, that crazy narrator warns us of the “hunger of this poem.”  Sure enough, the second voice comes out: “it has drawn in yr feet… it has drawn in yr legs.”  Meanwhile, the narrator begs the reader three times to “back off from this poem.” 

If the reader doesn’t back off from the poem at this point, “you are into this poem,” and there is no way out; the rest of the stanza is one continual statement with no punctuation, the voice of the poem utilizing enjambment for a hypnotic effect which will assuredly draw the reader on to read further, until finally “this poem is the reader & the/reader this poem.”  After that, the reader suddenly reaches the sharp break between the stanzas, and, in the blink of an eye, it is all over: they have become a statistic to the “us bureau of missing persons,” and are gone without a trace.

Being aware of the clashing voices in the poem, the seemingly arbitrary structure of the stanzas becomes more meaningful.  The narrator starts off each stanza, and when he is left alone, the stanzas are short and concise, in accordance with the first two.  The third, however, is much longer than the first two: the narrator was interrupted by the voice of the poem, which drones on without interrupting punctuation or caesuras, creating a longer stanza (one that is less and less the narrator’s own voice).  Finally, the last stanza is almost entirely the voice of the poem; this wicked voice capitalizes on the opportunity and drones on for the longest stanza in the entire poem, drawing the reader deeper and deeper into the mirror until they are taken.

This is a clever poem.  I thought it was interesting how the poem tries to suck you into the mirrors   .   I chuckled to myself   ,  proud that I

was abl to c thru the lyes   .

Hold / up  ,  there is a

strange man at the


door

"Fireflies in the Garden" by Robert Frost - Norton Literature

Robert Frost was an American playwright and poet, born on March 26, 1874 in California.  The portion of his life on a farm served as the inspiration for many of his poems, renowned and acclaimed many times over.  Before his death of prostate surgery complications, he had received four Pulitzer Prizes for Poetry and the Congressional Gold Medal for his contributions.




"Fireflies in the Garden" by Robert Frost


Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal the stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.                      5
Only, of course, they cant sustain the part.
                                                                          [1928]

The entirety of this simple, six-versed poem is a metaphor, comparing the real stars and the fireflies that strive to imitate them.  Upon the arrival of night, the “real stars… fill the upper skies” along with their small, insignificant pretenders.  The poem describes the efforts of the fireflies to “Achieve a star-like start” in their attempt to emulate the stars, though, “of course, they can’t sustain the part.”  It is expected that Frost will pay respect to these microcosms of stars after the first two lines, but, after he uses strong diction to assure the readers that they were “never equal stars in size” and “never really stars at heart,” Frost conveys an entirely different tone.  As opposed to appreciation or contentment, this diction creates a tone of disdain or even contempt for the flies, and the announcement of their phoniness and role as a charlatan is filled with condescension.  Utilizing this tone, Frost seems to provide a commentary on the use of symbols themselves through his metaphorical poem: just as the firefly can only imitate a star in a weak and unsubstantial way, a literary symbol can only catch a brief and ephemeral aspect of something more significant.  Symbols and metaphors used in literature possess only the ability catch bits and pieces of the feeling that the actual object exudes.  Given the cold and unappreciative tone of the poem, Frost seems almost bitter; bitter about his inability to truly describe through a symbol a feeling that an object evokes, or perhaps bitter at the poetic inadequacy of language as a whole, represented by the inability of the fireflies to attain stardom.

"At the San Francisco Airport" by Yvor Winters - Norton Literature

Though Yvor Winters was born in Chicago on October 17, 1900, he took up residence in many places from coast to coast, attending several universities, and ending up working on his doctorate in Stanford University.  During his time, he became an acclaimed poet and literary critic, receiving a prize for his poetry and renown for the magazines he edited.  He suffered from tuberculosis for the majority of his life, however, and unfortunately succumbed to throat cancer on January 25, 1968.




"At the San Francisco Airport" by Yvor Winters
            to my daughter, 1954


This is the terminal: the light
Gives perfect vision, false and hard;
The metal glitters, deep and bright.
Great planes are waiting in the yard--
They are already in the night.                               5


And you are here beside me, small,
Contained and fragile, and intent
On things that I but half recall--
Yet going whither you are bent.
I am the past, and that is all.                                10


But you and I in part are one:
The frightened brain, the nervous will,
The knowledge of what must be done,
The passion to acquire the skill
To face that which you dare not shun.                 15


The rain of matter upon sense
Destroys me momently. The score:
There comes what will come. The expense
Is what one thought, and something more--
One's being and intelligence.                               20


This is the terminal, the break.
Beyond this point, on lines of air,
You take the way you must take;
And I remain in light and stare--
In light, and nothing else, awake.                        25
                                                                       [1954]

Taken at face value, this poem takes place in the San Francisco Airport; a father standing with his daughter, both nervous but ready to board the airplane.  I believe Yvor Winters intended a deeper meaning, however.  The poem is packed with connotations and inferences, and what may ostensibly seem to be an innocent airplane boarding is revealed to be so much more.  The poem begins and ends with an ominous line: “This is the terminal.”  The word “terminal” is ambiguous; directly, it could refer to a portal at the San Francisco Airport.  If one analyzes the context of that word in the poem overall more deeply, however, it takes on a different meaning.  The speaker of this poem (it may very well be Winters himself) recognizes that he has almost arrived at the last stop.  The next stanzas describe his daughter standing beside him, “small,/contained and fragile,” using this simple diction to paint an image of a simple, delicate flower of a girl, requiring special care and attention.  This time, the speaker is “the past, and that is all;” he can no longer be there to support her, “going whither [she] is bent.”  She is not entirely alone though; the speaker’s words offer small hope, as they “in part are one.”  He will remain with her, as part of her “brain,” her “will,” her “knowledge,” and her “passion.” With the memory of him, she will carry on his legacy where he cannot.  The last stanza designates the final goodbye; he repeats that “This is the terminal” from the beginning of the poem, only this time, it is a “break.”  This sharp and precise word marks the final separation and release from his daughter.  He must “remain in light and stare,” for this is his last stop.  Yet, while he cannot board the next plane himself, he is allowed one last look at his daughter, his legacy, before she continues through the terminal.

"She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways" by William Wordsworth -- Norton Literature

William Wordsworth was born in England on April 7, 1770.  Throughout his life, he was a very prolific and renowned writer, accredited with initiating the Romantic Age in English Literature with his publication of Lyrical Ballads in 1798, and posthumously acknowledged for his greatest work, The Prelude.  This fame earned him the title of Poet Laureate of Britain in 1843, which he possessed until his death in 1850.




"She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways" by William Wordsworth


She dwelt among the untrodden ways
    Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
    And very few to love:


A violet by a mossy stone                                 5
    Half hidden from the eye!
--Fair as a star, when only one
    Is shining in the sky.


She lived unknown, and few could know
    When Lucy ceased to be;                            10
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
    The difference to me!
                                                                  [1800]

Though only twelve lines long, William Wordsworth’s poem “She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways” is a moving piece, written about a most potent feeling indeed, revealing a powerfully quiet and personal quality as well as an elegiac tone through the voice of the first person speaker, as much of heart and soul of the poem would be lost to a clinical third person narration.  Throughout the poem, we learn much not only about the object of the speaker’s love, but his own personal feelings as well.  We learn that the speaker’s love was a beautiful woman who led a simple life by a small stream in northern England, secluded and unknown to the rest of the world.  But we also learn why the speaker loved her: she was “like a violet by a mossy stone,” untainted by the smog and sin of cities, and “fair as a star, when only one/Is shining in the sky,” or pure as the light in the black of night.  The lover is so stricken by her death that he visibly displays breathlessness and speechlessness (and, oh,/The difference to me!).  In fact, he is so overcome with emotional angst that he has only the ability to procure a very short poem, using only simple and concise diction and syntax throughout very short lines, just over ten in number.  Through this short but deeply elegiac poem, the speaker summons every last ounce of poetic skill he has to give a pure and simple eulogy for his pure and simple flower, who, though he will not ever see again in life, will continue to be with him as one more twinkling star, giving hope on a cloudless night.