Word Study (1)

So I was watching "The Colbert Show," honestly one of the smartest and funniest shows on T.V. in my opinion, and Stephen Colbert had Caroline Kennedy on the show talking about a new book of poetry that she complied and edited entitled, "She Walks In Beauty." (a title taken from a Lord Byron poem if you didn't know). They recited a poem I really liked titled, "I Like Americans" by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1924):

I like Americans.
You may say what you will, they are the nicest people in the world.
They sleep with their windows open.
Their bathtubs are never dry.
They are not grown up yet. They still believe in Santa Claus.

They are terribly in earnest.
But they laugh at everything…

I like Americans.
They give the matches free…

I like Americans.
They are the only men in the world, the sight of whom in their shirt-sleeves is not rumpled, embryonic and agonizing…

I like Americans.
They carry such pretty umbrellas.
The Avenue de l’Opera on a rainy day is just an avenue on a rainy day.
But Fifth Avenue on a rainy day is an old-fashioned garden under a shower…

They are always rocking the boat.
I like Americans.
They either shoot the whole nickel, or give up the bones.
You may say what you will, they are the nicest people in the world.

I love the whimsy, the simplicity and the love in this poem. I also love how innocent and naive Americans come off in the poem. There is something to said for words that get where they are going very quickly and entice easy thoughts and a smile. This poem is however very similar to another poem written a year earlier in 1923 by Ernest Hemingway of the same name:

I like Americans.
They are so unlike Canadians.
They do not take their policemen seriously.
They come to Montreal to drink.
Not to criticize.
They claim they won the war.
But they know at heart that they didn't.
They have such respect for Englishmen.
They like to live abroad.
They do not brag about how they take baths.
But they take them.
Their teeth are so good.
And they wear B.V.D.'s all the year round.
I wish they didn't brag about it.
They have the second best navy in the world.
But they never mention it.
They would like to have Henry Ford for president.
But they will not elect him.
They saw through Bill Bryan.
They have gotten tired of Billy Sunday.
Their men have such funny hair cuts.
They are hard to suck in on Europe.
They have been there once.
They produced Barney Google, Mutt and Jeff.
And Jiggs.
They do not hang lady murderers.
They put them in vaudeville.
They read the Saturday Evening Post
And believe in Santa Claus.
When they make money
They make a lot of money.
They are fine people.

Now you can tell that one is clearly influenced by the other, but the thing about the Hemingway joint is that it dates itself, and I'm not ashamed to say I had to google some of the names in it to gather the full weight of the poem. But I think every poet has to have works that transcend, works that you can read any where and any time, and they will still be relevant. But I think that all poets have to create poems that serve as time capsules, poems that force the readers of the future to look up what they are talking about to understand. It's the job of the poet to make the reader think, laugh, reflect, but it's also his job to educate.

Blocked...

So I've come to the point where I have been a little blocked. I received a suggestion from a friend, and accomplished poet in his own right, to start reading more. I took this too heart. I have about 5 books that I have started and not finished, including a book of short stories I picked up last summer that is water-proof for pool reading. I've started to work my way through it, read about 3 of the stories, one of which was really good, and all that have different writing styles that have given me good ideas. What I'm also starting to realize is that I am a horrible poet. Poets know other poets, can quote them, are well versed in them, steal their ideas, try to write their poems, fail horribly, and become better poets because of it. So in addition to posting new poetry as a part of my 50 poems in a year challenge, I think I'm going to start doing some poetry analysis or just posting poems that I find that you might have heard of or might not have in an effort to make myself stay disciplined in my craft. That was a bit of a run on I think, but we'll call it poetic license. Anywho, this is more for myself to learn more about my fellow poets, lawyers know cases, doctors know studies, and I shall know poems.

#9: I’ve always had a problem telling time

I.

Optimism is a curse.

The issue is,

knowing something’s coming,

is not knowing when.

II.

Difficulty arises when there’s no guide,

and the hands are too short to tell the difference.

III

There is nothing worse

than arriving late,

to the wrong location,

knowing the directions are in your other pocket.

IV

I’ve always had a problem telling time,

it never listens.

#8: reaching Dreams or Reaching dreams

It must be hard,
not to be who you wish you were.
I strive instead,
to be better than I currently am.

On Love, Actually

I have had the pleasure to be inducted into a sorority, and to become friends with a member, because of that induction. And also because of that induction, I have become friends with her best friend. Over the last 6 months I have spent one day a week with these women. Talking, laughing, getting on each others nerves in a good way, and through them I have gotten to know the men that they spend their time with. Now the thing that makes this story interesting is that both of these men are exceptional. I mean they are good men, handsome, nice, and most important they are good, very good to my friends. And in turn, my friends are very, very good to them. But their relationships are built in two completely different ways. Each couple relates to each other in different ways, and they both work, and work well. But there are somethings that both possess that make them have the dynamic that makes the relationships admirable.

This has all been said to illustrate the reason why I was able to write this poem.

I cannot write about love when I'm in it. I just can't. I have loved a dozen times, I have only been IN love twice in my life. Both of those times I had the biggest writers block, or I was just so selfish with my emotion that I didn't want to share it with the world, the latter being the best explanation.

Now, when I'm not in love, I can write about wanting it. I have no problem with that. I can write about how I imagine it feels, or how it looks, or smells. I can write about having something better than I had before. I can be wishful, hopeful. This is no problem. I also had the horrible disposition of being a "love hater," a person so sick of seeing others in relationships that I never really wanted to know what their love looked like from the outside. I guess I just didn't want to witness what I didn't have.

But until I was around these two women, I did not know what that loved actually looked like, and seeing this makes me realize that I never had what I thought I had.

So I have had the idea of writing about this love that I see often, but I did not know how to voice it, how to put it in tangible words, how to let others read what I see.

Enter a third couple. And goodness, they are just as spectacular as the first two. This couple is actually so well suited for each other it's amazing they didn't meet in a sandbox somewhere. They have the same sense of humor, the same chill personality, and the same caring nature. That being said, it was something that he said to her that gave voice to the idea of this "young love" that I wanted to showcase. (Now I say "young" because I, like most, have the pleasure of being around couples who have been married for years, and even going to the weddings of friends, but I have never had the opportunity to be a witness to the meeting, arranging, and blossoming of couples until now) It was just 140 characters but it summed up what I had been seeing.

Now, I am in a place where other people's happiness, makes me happy. And I seek to be around people who genuinely love each other, I can ask their advice, I can get different perspectives on how they make things work because they are all so different, but work so well together. This is a super long poem explanation, but if one day I become a famous poet, and some senior in some college somewhere is doing a study on my work, I would have at least helped to answer the question, "what was her motivation?" My motivation is not love, or how to be in it, but being surrounded by those caught up in an emotion so strong, that their joy has rubbed off on me.

#7: Love, Actually

I have determined,
There is a difference between
Loving,
And loving unconditionally.
See, love is in love with being in love,
It's a selfish emotion.
Love sends a "get well soon" message when you're sick,
And drops you off, then texts to make sure you got in safely.
Love likes to look good,
And makes sure you look good when you're with it.
Love listens to you complain,
tells you congratulations on a promotion,
And buys you a drink for your birthday.
Love knows your favorite things,
ignores your flaws
And supports your vices.
Love tells you that you're perfect in the morning and kisses your forehead,
And says you can do nothing wrong.
Love encourages your triumphs,
But unconditional love supports you even when you fail.
It tells you when you're wrong,
And even though it tells you your breath needs a touch-up in the morning, it kisses you
anyway.
Unconditional love makes you want to improve just to make it happy,
And still loves you unconditionally if you fall a little short.
It understands why some things mean more than others,
And goes out it's way to find new things that you'll like even more.
Unconditional love sings you happy birthday at midnight, and buys the whole damn bar,
if that's what you want, then watches you sleep til morning to make sure you're ok.
It sends you a dozen roses to your desk to celebrate your accomplishments,
And makes you completely forget about whatever the hell it is you do at that building
downtown, when it walks through the door.
Unconditional love likes to make you feel good, looks damn good while doing it too, and
even digs how making you feel good makes love feel good, and likes how that feeling
looks good on you.
It walks you to the door, and has counted the stories and numbered the windows to make
sure the light turns on in your apartment before it leaves (even though it would never
admit to doing so),
then calls to tell you goodnight when it gets home.
Unconditional love is so in love, it wishes for thousands of dollars in loans to go to the
best schools, 12 years of sleep deprivation and brain cramps, malpractice insurance, and
specialties in everything possible on the off chance you come down with something so it
can be your first, second, and third opinion.
Love is a selfish emotion,
In love with the idea of being extended to catch the falling,
but moving aside afraid the strike will make it fall too.
But, unconditional love...

Unconditional love will stretch.
Bend.
Contort.
To secure what's hurling towards it, and
fall to cushion the impact.
So, yes.
There is a difference between loving,
And loving unconditionally.
Everyone has loved.

*shoutout to @LogicDriven for the title

#6: No Excuses

I am not gay.
I am not intimidated by you.
I do not have a pressing date to my wash clothes or hair.
My car is not in the shop.
To tell the truth, I just got an oil change, and my fluids topped off.
I do not have kids, so a babysitter isn't needed.
I will not be out of town.
I may or may not have a boyfriend, but that has nothing to do with my response.
Girls night out is on Thursday,
And yes, I drink or dance on occasion.
I do not have plans.
No one I know is having a birthday, marriage, baby shower, anniversary, or retirement
party this weekend.
There is nothing pressing for me to watch on TV.
I'm sure there is an important sporting event on,
But that's besides the point.
I like to go to movies, and dinner.
I really like concerts and plays.
I would probably be impressed with your taste in any of them.
I'm sure you have a job,
And a car.
You are probably comfortable in your skin,
And I know I'm comfortable in mine.
I just had my eyebrows done,
And I've looked good all week.
The weather's nice,
And I don't have to work early in the morning.
I have something to wear.
I actually just bought a new dress that would look good on me on Friday night.
I would love to go on a date,
But I simply do not wish to go with you.

Whitman

I'm on this kick where I'm tired of reading "new" books, or should I say there are no new books worth reading, and unless I'm gonna start getting into biographies, which isn't exactly improbable, I decided to read books that everyone has read, or at least those that are part of the "Cannon" of American and British Literature. These include re-reading favorites like To Kill a Mockingbird, and The Great Gatsby, and reading things that I should have read long ago for the first time like The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

So I started my literary journey by reading Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, and I can tell you that I'm impressed. Now I know from personal knowledge that Whitman was a very avid supporter of Abolition as well as Native American rights, so as a person I like him. And his ideas of the poet are amazing. I mean it really makes me feel like I'm just calling myself a word, not living up to the expectations that he has laid out for future generation of poet.

Now Whitman starts his book off with a long essay (meaning I haven't actually gotten to the poem yet). This essay is his feelings on the American Bard or poet. Now we must remember the importance of the poet to early America, the poet was the mouth piece of the New World (and the old for that matter). The poet was the press, the voice, the life line, the entertainment, the poet was IT.

According to Whitman the poet...

"He is no arguer... he is judgment."

"In the need of poems... he is the greatest forever and forever who contributes the greatest original practical examples. The cleanest expression is that which finds no sphere worthy of itself and makes one."

the poetry...

"The best singer is not the one who has the most lithe and powerful organ... the pleasure of poems is not in them that take the handsomest measure and smiles and sound."

"To speak in literature with the perfect rectitude and insouciance of the movements of animals and the unimpeachableness of the sentiment of trees in the woods and grass by the roadside is the flawless triumph of the art."

Now these are not only keys to good poetry, but keys to good living. According to Whitman, to live a good life is to be a poet. Purely a poet, you are then in touch with your emotions and those of your fellow man, and no poet is above another, because ever pure man or woman is poet, lives poet, and understands poetry.

After all, "it is also not consistent with the reality of the soul to admit that there is anything in the known universe more divine than men and women."

Powerful. I admit that I am only about halfway through this essay and I'm taking my time, trying to pick my way through it, gather meaning, learn. After completion I plan on re-reading of course, and finding some more Whitman, as this is my first pilgrimage into the "classic poets." But his hope and optimism for society is something that definitely uplifts the spirit. Now do I think that his ideas of the poet as the savior of man are grand and over the top? At times yes, but I love them because it gives me something to strive for as the poet, Ving Rhames once said something like "it is not the person in the art, but the art in the person that makes acting powerful." I think this is the same for Whitman and his poet.