Many Red Devils by Stephen Crane

I loved this poem. As I read it, I could see the red imps dodging a seemingly large eraser. Then the poem turned a little bit darker when Crane talked about writing with the muck. This imagery is a bit more gruesome as it forces the reader to imagine all the devils that had to be smashed to create the muck. I think Crane intends the poem to mean different thongs for everyone. All poems are interpreted differently by others, but this one is more that way because of the meanings of the devils. They can be struggle, sin, trials, anything. Whatever they represent to each person, it will be very personal. Things that reflect on people negatively are usually kept secret or at least downplayed. Because of this, the poem connects with nearly everyone. Another part of this poem that I really like is the way it makes the reader think. It has many layers to it as is common in several of Crane's poems. I enjoyed this poem a lot.

I like how in class we are able to remember distinct author styles. It gives me some hope for the test :)

For A Lady I Know by Countee Cullen

This poem, while short, is full of bitterness. Cullen was an African-American born at the beginning of the 20th century. Cullen's life experiences are encompassed in this poem. It is about a woman, presumably white, that thinks that, even in heaven, she will be served by "black cherubs". This shows the impossibility of the idea of equality for blacks and whites in the 20's and 30's.  If a woman thought it so natural to be served by blacks that heaven would be that way, the fight for equality would be hopeless. The poem is very simple consisting of two couplets and an ABAB rhyme scheme. It flows well and is almost forgotten as soon as it's read. It is so short that it has to be read several times in order to grasp the full meaning. The images of heaven and cherubs throw the reader off a little. Both are usually associated with good and positive messages, but on closer inspection, this poem is not about an uplifting subject.

When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer by Walt Whitman

I love Walt Whitman, and this poem is no exception. It flows very nicely and has a pleasant rhythm. It reminds me of the poem by that one guy about beating poems with a hose, except Whitman is talking about nature instead of poetry. I like how he says he is soon unaccountably tired and sick after listening to a lecture by an astronomer. In the first section, Whitman uses words that are very factual and straightforward, like "proofs", "figures", and "diagrams". All these words are very mathematical and precise. In the last three lines, Whitman uses language more often associated with poetry. "Mystical”, "gliding", and "moist". These words all create pleasant and soft images. They make the reader feel more comfortable than the hard, precise words used in the beginning. The last line about the perfect stars reminds me of the millions of stars that can be seen on a clear night in the mountains. It is too beautiful to qualify and analyze. I think that this is the point that Whitman is trying to make: the astronomer may be smart and analytical, but he is probably missing the true beauty of the nature that he is studying and picking apart.

Questions We Have About Scholarships

Why isn't a 4.0 enough?
What are scholarships?
Why do there never seem to be scholarships for normal people with good grades?
How come we need scholarships?
Why does college cost so much?
Can I have a scholarship?
Can't I get into college without a million scholarships?
Who decides who gets scholarships?
Why are they called scholarships anyway?

The Day Millicent Found the World by William Stafford

Apparently I haven't done this poem yet. I've read it several times but I've never blogged about it. This poem is one of my favorites. It is easy to read because it is laid out like a story. The language is fairly easy to understand, which is extremely nice. I liked the overall theme of the poem too. I think it was about coming of age. The woods are a metaphor for life. Everyone eventually has to go off and explore on their own. I see Millicent as a shy person. She explores slowly with a safety line of being able to see the edge of the forest. Some people I know wouldn't bother and would jump right in. I think I'm a bit more like Millicent, a bit more attached to my home. I think in the middle stanza, Millicent discovers the sense of freedom that goes with being on your own. It is very tempting, but her Aunt calls her back, "that time". This implies that Millicent eventually grew up completely and went off on her own. The poem as a whole has the element of childish discovery. This, I think, is what makes the poem so relatable. Everyone remembers that feeling of astonishment and wonder from their childhood. In some ways, I hope Millicent never grows up. I hope that she is constantly astonished by the new things life brings her. This hope is a bit reflective of my hopes for life. We'll see how it turns out.

Random Story, Part II

The Sun awoke at dawn and looked down upon the sleeping Daphne, still fast asleep after her encounter with the Moon the night before. Sun gently warmed Daphne face with rays of light until she blinked awake. Satisfied, the Sun proceeded across the sky.

Daphne lay still for a few minutes gathering her thoughts. It was a good day to start a journey. Sun was cheerful in the sky with no clouds to darken his mood. She was glad Brock was accompanying her. He was an elf, so they could go through the Elvin Tunnels. That would make the journey go faster.

“Are you ready, your majesty?” asked Brock from a moss clump a little ways off.

“Yes, I think I am,” replied Daphne. “Will we use the Tunnels?”

“That was my plan.”

Brock reached the queen’s moss nest and offered Daphne a slice of acorn. She took it and ate quickly. Then she reached for a thick blade of grass and tied it around her eyes. This was her least favorite part of the Tunnels; elves couldn’t knowingly reveal the location of the many entrances to the Tunnels, so Brock had to blindfold her. Daphne had traveled this way enough though, that she could probably find the entrance without Brock.

The Elvin Tunnels are beautiful, created by the ancient spirits of the world. The elves, being the most ancient of the peoples, were in charge of safeguarding the Tunnels. They were originally built just as a magnificent piece of artwork, but the alternate use of travel was soon discovered. Not only do the Tunnels lead to virtually anywhere, but they are so spectacular that Time himself slows as he walks through them.  Those that can resist the beauty can gain on Time, a very handy ability for traveling.

After about half an hour of above ground travel and a quick decent, Daphne removed the blindfold. As always, she was spellbound by the swirling iridescent patterns, ebbing and flowing to form images that almost immediately dissipate. Brock tugged Daphne along muttering something about it being easier to just leave the blindfold on. They continued this way for some time until Brock suddenly froze.

“Mother Earth!” he exclaimed.

Daphne jerked and looked in the direction he was staring. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The wall of the Tunnel, normally brightly colored, was mixture of blacks and sinister blues. It was still irresistibly beautiful, but it was a cold, cruel beauty.

“What’s happened?” inquired Daphne.

“I’ve only heard of this once before,” replied Brock, suddenly pale, “in the ancient story of Cat. He was vain and wanted all the power of the Moon and Stars, but the ancient spirits gave Moon and the Stars free will, and they could not be controlled by one lone faerie. So Cat kidnapped a weak star, Beetlejuice, and used its power to attack the ancient spirits in their tunnel. The Tunnels turned black for one whole day before the ancients could regain control. They condemned Cat and his children to life a four-legged creatures. Even now, all of Cat’s relatives are the vainest creatures on four legs.” Brock’s voice was shaky by the time the story was over. “That was when the ancients were strong and awake. They have been comatose for several millennia.”

“We have to prevent this from spreading!” cried Daphne, ever the practical one. “We have to find the source.”

“Yes, we must find Jack Frost.” Brock started off down the tunnel in a rush. “The faster we find him, the better.”

Of Mere Being by Wallace Stevens

I like Wallace Stevens' writing. I liked the poem Disillusionment at Ten O'Clock. Of Mere Being is a bit more coherent than Disillusionment at Ten O'Clock, but it still has several possible interpretations, as demonstrated in class. To me, the poem is about life beyond human experience. Stevens seems want the reader think about the simplicity of things. Not everything has another meaning. The bird in the palm just is, it doesn't mean anything, it just is. Some people in class thought that the poem has to do with religion. I can see that, but I don't necessarily think that it is specifically about religion. I think has more to do with the feeling that existing on a basic level gives a person. It reminded me of when I go hiking and feel an inner peace because I am surrounded by nature, a beautiful thing that will exist whether or not I do. It is a freeing feeling because it releases me from all obligations, for a while at least. I would classify this as faith or spiritual, not religious. I think this is the idea represented by the palm at the end of the mind. In class someone made the observation that the bird was probably a phoenix. This idea stuck with me because a phoenix usually represents rebirth. This idea lines up with my idea of faith. When I go hiking, or some other activity with similar effects, it is kind of like a cleansing. I am rejuvenated and re-centered. This could be considered a rebirth on a small scale.