The Book

Every time I moved
the memories were shelved
like an old book
rarely to be removed

Part of my past
locked between covers
of the volume of my history
meant to last

But life goes on
among the pages
stories infinitely expand
heaping into a mountain

Years pass
the book is opened
finally the stories
are revealed in mass

The people I know
some exactly as they were
some changed by time
some who no longer show

And the memories
well remembered or
vague and needing prompt
come flooding in as stories

The beginnings
of the stories
are vivid
but the endings

The endings are
not yet complete
they are continuously
written with care

The visit is over
the book is shelved
the stories once again
trapped beneath the cover

Waiting patiently for me
to pull down the book
and reminisce
about my history.

Song of Powers by David Mason

This poem seems childish at first glance, but it becomes darker upon closer examination. Mason uses "Rock, Paper, Scissors" as a model for this poem. Because this game is childish, the poem is playful. But then Mason uses words like "crush" "reams" and "ethereal". These words are defiantly a bit more intense than a childhood game. These words, crush especially, are associated with power in the real world. This makes the poem seem more serious. I think that Mason is really getting at the idea that no power is absolute. All powers have some weakness. I think he is saying that fighting will get us nowhere but will leave us alone. The poem's structure is not overly complicated. It has three sections for each of the powers and a final section to emphasize the loneliness. This poem was interesting, but it wasn't my favorite.

It was a dream by Lucille Clifton

I don't quite know what to make of this piece. I think it is about the "greater self" or conscience coming through in a dream. It is accusatory and points out all the flaws of the speaker's life. Clifton's poem is free verse with no consistent rhyme pattern or rhythm. She also doesn't capitalize anything except the last line. The last line is what the greater self is telling the speaker she could have done. This makes sense to emphasize. Clifton also emphasizes the last line with the punctuation. "This. This. This." It makes the last line very forceful. As a whole, Clifton uses a lot of imagery. When I read the poem, I thought of Ursula from "The Little Mermaid." I know she is not exactly akin to a conscience, but she can be very angry. I pictured her underwater with her hair fanned out and her face is red from screaming. It's not exactly a pretty picture, but I think it captures the image created by the poem well.

The Book by Miller Williams

"The Book" by Miller Williams is a bit morbid. The poem is about a book that a man found that was blank. The man kept it as a diary and later found out that it was bound in human skin. The man tells this to the speaker in the poem while the speaker holds it. I can't find any experience in Williams' life that would inspire a piece like this. He was born in 1930, so he would have been 15 when WWII started, but I don't think he served any time. He completed his master's in '52, at age 22. By this, I would assume that Williams didn't take any time off from school in order to serve. This poem was published with a collection of others. Several poems had central themes of death and suicide. For some reason, Williams wrote many depressing pieces around this time. The most interesting part of this poem is how the speaker reacts. Initially, the speaker is curious, fascinated with this morbid item. He wonders whose skin and who did it. Slowly, horror grows in the speaker. He is horrified that he once found the book beautiful. The way that Williams writes the reaction helps the reader visualize it: the fifth stanza is about who the skin is from. This leads naturally to the fourth stanza which is about who would do this. Finally, the sixth stanza shows the thoughts as the gravity of the book sinks in. This progression really gets Williams' idea across and is really the whole point of the poem. The lines leading up to these stanzas are all background information.

Random Story, Part I

The faerie slowly settled into the moss, her wings tender from the day’s activity. There had been an emergency in the far side of the kingdom and, of course, she was the only faerie in the whole realm that could fix it. The woodland nymphs had been useless. Nature spirits, yeah right, they hadn’t even been able to fix a simple mix up. A batch of flowers had bloomed inside-out with red and purple stems and green and brown petals. Of course the first reaction is to call the Queen of Spring. It’s not like she’s busy getting ready for springtime or anything. Oh, well. That was all over for the night. Daphne was just drifting off to the land of dreams when the acorn by the moss crackled. “What?” she growled.

“I’m sorry to bother you, your majesty, but Old Man Moon is requesting your presence,” responded the soft voice of the elf, Brock, the queen’s assistant.

Sighing, the queen got up. Old Man Moon didn’t like visiting in the day time hours and was ancient enough that Daphne couldn’t ask him to come in the morning.“All right, tell him I’ll be down in a minute.”

Daphne put on a fresh flower blossom gown, organized the butterflies resting on her arms and floated down to the reception room. “Good evening, Sir Moon. It’s an honor to see you again.”

“The honor is all mine Daffy,” replied the ancient figure. “I am sorry to have to disturb you at this late hour.”

“Sir, the name is Daphne, as I have told you several times already,” said the queen though gritted teeth. The old man was a bit off his rocker.

“Precisely what I said. Daffy.”

Brock, who was sitting in the corner, was trying to suppress a chuckle. The stoic elf rarely laughed, but he always seemed to find humor at the queen’s expense. She would have to talk to him later, but it was too late for arguing, and Moon was waiting.

“So, I assume this is not just a social visit?” Daphne asked.

“No unfortunately not. My son, Big Dipper is missing.”

Daphne was skeptical. Dipper was a restless soul. He was notorious for disappearing for days, weeks even, without any explanation. “How can you be sure he’s missing, Sir?”

“Well Daffy, I found this.” Moon held forward a scrap of paper. On it was a hastily scrawled note:

“I have gone to visit Jack Frost. If I have not returned by the first day of Snow Melt, something has gone terribly wrong. Go to Queen Daphne immediately, she will know what to do.

Sincerely,

Big Dipper”

“Oh no,” sighed Daphne. “I told him not to.”

“So you know what’s going on?”

“Yes Sir.” Daphne proceeded to explain how Dipper had come to her with a complaint about Jack Frost. Frost had stolen one of Dipper’s stars. Daphne had told him to go to the Queen of Winter, Justine. Justine was the ruler with jurisdiction over Frost. He had refused and went to confront Frost himself. That was two weeks ago.

“I see,” replied Moon after listening. “I must go after him.”

“With all due respect Sir, I think I must be the one to go.” This from Brock in the corner. “Her majesty should not go, but will insist and I should be the one to accompany and protect her.”

Daphne hid a smile. Brock had read her thoughts exactly, as usual. She was feeling guilty for not forcing Dipper to stay away from Frost and felt it her duty to straighten out this mess. “You may come with us if you like Sir Moon,” added Daphne. “The journey may be dangerous. If Dipper is being held against his will, there will be danger for all those looking to rescue him. Whatever you decide, we will leave tomorrow morning. If you want to travel with us, you will have to travel by day and sleep by night.”

Moon seemed relieved. “I trust you to bring my son back. I don’t think I should go. I would only slow you down. Besides, I will be able to track your progress from the sky.”

“As you wish, Sir,” said Daphne. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to get to bed.” Back in the moss, Daphne folded her wings, exhausted. She abandoned the land of dreams for the seas of deep, uninterrupted sleep.

Tone Piece

It was late and the store was almost empty. The last of the customers were trickling through the check out line. The cashier was tired. She was almost done with her 5 hour shift. 20 more minutes and she could do her homework and finally sleep. The end of the line was approaching. The last person was a boy, about her age. Maybe a couple years older. He had big, warm eyes and a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. When his turn came, the smile won and she saw that the it was a wonderful smile, the kind that makes girls melt. She took his money and began counting the bills. There was a sudden felling of apprehension. Something was wrong. The bills were clever copies of fives. Well worn but the face was all wrong. In place of the president was a picture of the boy. Confused, the girl looked up. The boy had pulled out a gun. The smile remained on his face but all the warmth was gone from the eyes. They were cold obsidian. "Let's make this quick," he said. "It's getting rather late."

Disillusionment at Ten O'Clock -- Poetry Response #13

This poem is confusing and nonsensical at first glance. It might be talking about conformity. It talks about the color of night gowns at the beginning, saying that they are all uniform and none of them are weird. Stevens was of upper class, and married a woman that his parents considered of a lower class. She worked as a saleswoman, milliner and stenographer. This was not normal for an upper class woman in the early 1900's. Even though he was an educated man, Stevens felt that poets should "avoid intelligence" and write something from the imagination. This poem is very much about imagination, or the lack there of, in society. This poem is a comment on the fact that many people are unimaginative and boring. This idea comes off as negative. Stevens says that a drunk that is asleep in his boots has a much better imagination than normal people. Stevens is saying that being imaginative is more important than being accepted in high society.