Fragment 8: Thicker than rain-drops on November thorn (Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

Why this "poem's" title is actually longer than the thing itself! While the Poetry Foundation classed it as a poem, I wonder if the poet did himself.

Can there be a one-line poem? This one line has interesting language, is descriptive, sets a mood and causes me to wonder what is being referred to (thicker than what?). I suppose that all could be said to be enough. I do, however, think it needs more of a framework to be considered a true poem. While, as in William Carlos Williams' earlier poem, some work should be required of the reader, this poem takes that to an extreme. Too much so, I think.

What do you think?

Favorite (bit of the) line: "November thorn"

The Epistemology of Cheerios (Geffrey Davis)

Epistemology of Cheerios by Geffrey Davis

Epistemology is "the theory of knowledge; the investigation of what distinguishes justified belief from opinion". (from Google)

Thanks Geffrey for teaching me this word. Your poem gives a good example/definition too. I imagine new parenthood to be a path where you constantly have to make your way between justified belief and opinion. Babies grow; parents learn not to stress so much. Parenthood and childhood (life, in general) are all laboratories of epistemology.

I'd be more interested in hearing about why, after all that living, some people still haven't thought through their beliefs. Haven't determined between justibly held ones and blind opinion.

Favorite line: "and I let him / go for it"

Sonnet in Seach of an Author (William Carlos Williams)

I'd never heard of this poem by William Carlos Williams. My loss. I like it rather a lot.

It tells of a scene - two nudes under a tree and then lists, in building intensity, how each object that he filled his scene with in the first half of the poem can be described with the same word. To continue, the same word, but each telling brings to mind a different description. The odor of  pine needles is distinct from the odor of a man. The reader brings their own knowledge, their own interpretation to fill in the scene.

This poem, which in its title admits how it it searching for an author, makes each reader that missing one. Does that make this poem an ars poetica? Or an ars all-of-writing-ica?

God, I think I love this poem.

Favorite line: "a sonnet might be made of it"

Halloween Party (Kenn Nesbitt)

I don't really like this poem much, though I did click on it first, so talk about it I shall. A poem for Fall: Halloween Party by Kenn Nesbit.

It's well composed (4-lines apiece with a set rhyme scheme AABB). It sounds like a young person wrote it. That's not a diss, but reflective of the speaker of the poem.

But even though it's fine and all, it's very bland. It's got no bite (haha! Get it? Cuz he dressed as a vampire. Ha!). I read it a minute ago and already it's slipping from my mind. Cute, I suppose, but exceedingly unexciting. Pat on the head for the form, but, overall, this is a yawn.

Favorite line: "I'm dressed up like Dracula. Man, I look cool!"

One Perfect Rose (Dorothy Parker)

One Perfect Rose by Dorothy Parker

I learned tonight that Dorothy Parker was Anerican. Funny, I'd always assumed she was British. Dunno why exactly. But I can see her wit as a smarter, cleverer Carrie Bradshaw -with all her sharp utterances about romance/and the modern age.

The poem tonight is a prime example. Romance is nice and all, but what she seems to want is pure practicality. A limo would make for a better present, no?

The poem's language also mirrors that want. No flowery poofy language here. It's very prosey.

She doesn't say that a rose is bad, per se, but she seems bored with its ubiquity and lack of pizzazz. Limos for all!

Favorite line: "One perfect limousine, do you suppose?"

The Eel (Ogden Nash)

The desktop es ocupado tonight, so in honor of me having to type this out on my ipad, tonight's poem will be the (blessedly) short and witty The Eel by Ogden Nash.

It's funny. It describes an eel without saying anything about the animal. All those  "s" sounds. Oh, and hey, it's three lines long. Eel only has three letters in it. O.o

Ok, that's enough analyzing of this diddy. It's cute. It entertains. Done and done.

Favorite line: "I don't mind eels"

No poem, just talk

I went looking for a poem tonight, but I'm feeling tired so every poem I came across just made my head feel floaty. I know I like straight forward writing, that "poetic" language bugs me as does non-concrete description.

I think it's good to know what you like, but I'm curious to know how people enjoy poetry written in those two ways I tend to dislike. For instance, did you truly like the Coleridge poem listed below? What about it did you love?

How can I better learn to appreciate work I don't instantly have a fondness for?

August, 1914 (Vera Mary Brittain)

August, 1914 by Vera Mary Brittain

World War One began 100 years ago and this poem was written soon after it began. It's a nicely composed poem - each stanza is three  lines. The rhymes are linked through the stanzas. The middle standalone rhyme in one stanza matches two lines in the subsequent stanza. This even works for the last stanza's non rhyming word. It matches the two rhymed lines in the first stanza. It's circular.  (It's terza rima.)

And that's a nice trick. And so is war? Dunno if find merit in her argument that God makes war to help redeem humankind. Maybe she's being sarcastic?  The poem feels better to me if it's dark in humor, but if she/it are supposed to be straight laced then I guess it's not for me.

Favorite line: "And brought destruction's lurid reign"

Sonnet: On Receiving a Letter Informing Me of the Birth of a Son (Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

Sonnet: On Receiving a Letter Informing Me of the Birth of a Son by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Obviously, from the title, this is a sonnet. It's 14 lines and rhymes, but it's not the sonnet I'm most familiar with (Shakespearean) since the rhymes are patterned differently.

Can I bring my modern sensibilities to this 1700s/1800s poem and think less of the father - that he doesn't know his kid is born until he gets a letter about it. Let's pretend he's off to war and a letter is the only way to tell him the news. Yes, let's go with that.

His response to the news is conflicted. He's very torn up over it, it seems and instantly turns to prayer. Doesn't sound like praise though. I don't get the sense that he's happy (as he prays, he "inly felt/No heavenly visitation upwards draw/My feeble mind, nor cheering ray impart.").

Perhaps he's just overwhelmed and being honest. He first turns to prayer, but is too overwhelmed with emotion; he cannot make a spiritual connection. He is later (in writing the poem) better able to communicate and prays again. This time he is able to get out his wish for his son's redemption.

Favorite line: "inly felt"

I am Trying to Break Your Heart (Kevin Young)

The title of this poem by Kevin Young reminds me of a Wilco song. The images within kind of remind me of the interior of an Urban Outfitters. Is this a poem centered in the early 2000s? As I read, I imagined that this was N's bitter rant after a bad breakup at university.

Urban Outfitter objets d'art

Ha, yep. I totally call it (or least, I totally would like to) - from the Wilco-inspired title to the ironic use of taxidermy to describe (a lost) love to the bits of antiquated language (definitely an English major, this one). Okay, maybe not, but I can make the case for it. I do enjoy poetry for its malleability.

I enjoy this poem for its sense of time and place, its use of metaphor and its standout lines - namely, this one which coalesces all of the poem's metaphors and angst into one crystal line:

Favorite line: "Loneliness is a science—"

Dog and Snow (Paul S. Piper)

A quick one tonight, as I'm composing this on an iPad. Dog and Snow by Paul S. Piper.

It's an easy read and sweet. It annoys me with its proper noun/names for the players of the piece: Dog and Master. Just bugs, is all.

I don't really care for this poem. It has no emotional connection for me. No fun language or excellent description. It's boring. I don't even get a sense of what the dog looks like.  Though, I suppose, that's purposeful what with the given generic name/title "Dog".

I think it's dull, but what do you think? (Vote below!)

Favorite line: "Dog sees white. Arctic / light"

Stairway to the Stars (Ron Padgett)

Today's is kind of related to yesterday's poem, I think. Today we've got 'Stairway to the Stars' by Ron Padgett.

The opening bit cracked me up since it is like so much of poetry. The King (or, the writer) makes this grand statement and even though its meaning is shrouded, the audience is still expected to soak it all in question-less. "No one dared ask what it meant.", but the King "seemed satisfied by the beauty" and simply left the confused people behind. Ha, and isn't that replicated a million different ways by a million different authors.

Or even in billions of ways as each person is a King in their own right since we all attempt to share what we find meaningful, but are, at times, unable to do so. Perhaps, sharing viewpoints and thoughts is for naught. Since as this poem says, the King, his life and his thoughts, in the end, all "flew away to a place in history / where nothing mattered."

So then, I guess, why does anyone write anything? Selfishness is my first guess. "Cuz, I want to" This poem may be backing me up with its last line: "And then there was one." If, in the end, all that remains is yourself then doesn't that make you your most important, most ardent fan?

Favorite line: "He seemed satisfied by the beauty / of the logic that had arrived"

Reflective (A. R. Ammons)

Today's poem by A. R. Ammons is very clever, cute and short.

I like the word 'mirror' and the title 'reflective' and how they are physically reinforced by the language used and the way the lines/stanzas are cut.

I like the idea contained that everything is a reflection of something else and most clearly, is a reflection of you. I adore how the poem begins with the line "I found" and then describes how nothing was truly discovered. That what was "found" had been part of the author all along.

Of course, I, in reading this poem, am only discovering shades of myself. My "talk" about this poem is, of course, made up of my own interpretations and inclinations and in the end I am simply reinforcing my own ideas.

Ah, but so it goes. (comment!, plz - more voices = more viewpoints, less mirroring)

Favorite line: "and that / mirror / looked in at / a mirror"

Fathers and Daughters (Amanda Strand)

Let's begin again, shall we? I've been having a rough kind of year and a return to poems, to beauty, to writing and thinking beckons and, hopefully, soothes.

Today's poem will be Fathers and Daughters by Amanda Strand.

This poem appeals to me with its language and its pathos. The shock and grief were palpable despite the poem's brevity and lack of histrionics.

The scene she paints upon leaving the hospital ("The snow fell./His truck in the barn,/his boots by the door,/flagpoles empty./It took a long time for the taxi to come.") is the heart of the poem. I felt such a sadness at those lines - the winter scene; the fact that the taxi took a long time to arrive. God, that line about the taxi is fantastic. She's so lost at his death and the ability to move on will be slow in coming.

And then the last: " “Where to?” he said./“My father just died,” I said./As if it were a destination." It's a bit pat, a nice round ending, but still it contains the sadness she reflected earlier in the poem. It makes me think 'no, for you it's not a destination, but it will waylay you for a while'. Which makes me think about destinations, about finality, about death (being the end, a resting place).

This poem to me is not so much about the grand concepts of death and permanence as much as it is a personal poem of a private (though universally shared) sadness. But still, I responded positively to it because 1) it's an emotionally-charged poem and 2), it allowed me to branch off and consider much larger, impossible-to-resolve concepts.

Favorite line: "It took a long time for the taxi to come."