The Poet

             One of the few poems I have had a difficult time grasping, is "The Poet" by Tom Wayman, it truly confuses me because I am not sure what the author is getting at. It basically lists a way to test for the 'Detection of Learning Disabilities' as stated above the work. The author does nothing to explain however, what it is that he is writing about. Whether it is to get a point across or if he is simply just listing this checklist of things to aid in the detection of learning disabilities.

                I feel that it is a safe assumption that the author of this poem, is either writing about himself or even perhaps another poet that he knows. The checklist he is going over are how society set the levels and standards for him as a human, whether it is him acknowledging the fact that he is different or has a friend who may be viewed different by the rest of the population. Eventually it states that this person "Cannot handle 'yes-no' questions" (Wayman 6), but maybe whoever it is that he is talking about can easily understand and comprehend calculus and quantum physics. Maybe this person is extremely complex but society as a whole will never take them seriously. Because whenever a person is thought of to have a learning disability, they are usually thought of as helpless and needing constant care provided for them.

                Or perhaps this poem could be talking about poets in general, who don't always give the exact clear answer people are looking for. Poets write poems that are written like riddles most of the time and don’t actually mean what they say, and can have several different interpretations, poets may not always like answering a simple 'yes-no' question.

                This poem could perhaps even describe a person using the right side of the brain, the side which uses a more creative approach. One that isn't focused too much on exact meaning. While the left side of the brain is the more analytical side, the one that uses exact and precise meanings and measurements, the side that is writing about the person the author is talking about. The side that is describing the right side, and saying that it is not quite up to societies standards of intelligence, even though they may be more intellectual than the people setting these 'learning disabilities' for them.

                Throughout this poem, I was able to get an idea of who it was describing, but since the author really says nothing else in the poem besides the what the checklist states, it was hard for me to grasp the reason for him to write this. But now that I have thought more in depth about it, it seems to make more sense to me then when I first read it. However my interpretation of this is probably completely different than what yours may be. I usually do not enjoy reading or writing about poetry, but coming to terms with what this poet is writing about, in my mind at least, is very enlightening and I enjoyed it.

2 Poem Comparison

                The two poems that seem to resemble each other the most from 180 More, are "Hate Poem" by Julie Sheehan  and "What I Want" by George Bilgere. Both are very similar, since both poets write about someone they truly deeply hate.  Both authors still seem to have strong feelings towards the person they are writing about, or else they probably would not be writing about them in the first place. Hate, on the opposite end of the spectrum from love, is one of the strongest feelings you can have for someone and each of the authors from these two poems show that with some similarities and differences.

                In "What I Want" the author is reminiscing of past lovers from all over the world he had experiences with, but he always came back to one specific one that he had the deepest feelings for. Most of the girls he had been with, whether a one night stand or what seems to be described as a short relationship, seemed to be happy memories coming back to him. Drinking wine in Spain to lying out in the backyard to watching clouds expand yet he always comes back to his ex-wife, wishing for her to die or become permanently injured in an odd peculiar way.

                While in "Hate Poem" the author seems to be currently attached to the person she is writing about, as if she is so in love with them  that even though she hates so many things about them, she can't leave that person. "You know how when I'm sleepy I nuzzle my head under your arm? Hate" ( Sheehan 17).  Everything about the author and what she does hates the person she is writing about,  the flick of her wrist and the sock lint stuck in her third toenail on the left foot hate this person. I read an article over this poem and the author stated that she was actually using the word hate and interchanging it with love, to show how two such intense emotions are able to be put in replace of the other in any sentence and still make perfect sense.

                Both of the authors of these two poems obviously still have powerful feelings for the person they are writing their poem about, whether it is obvious hate like in "What I Want" or whether the author of "Hate Poem" is actually talking about love but just wanted to play around with her writing. I love the way George Bilgere writes his poem about his ex-wife going from happy thoughts that have helped carve his life and who he is then taking a drastic turn in the opposite direction, still talking about things that have defined his life, but he puts them in a very negative light. Julie Sheehan on the other hand takes every little thing she does and says that it is in spite of how much she hates her partner, every single little detail signifies the hate (or love?) of that special someone.

Prayer In My Boot

     

                The poem from Prayer In My Boot by Naomi Shihab Nye, was definitely the one I have the most questions about out of the fourteen poems we have read for class so far. From just the title, it seems to be talking about a soldier who could be keeping a little piece of paper in his boot that he occasionally writes his prayers on after seeing the rest of the world throughout his travels in the military. "...For our tracks which disappear the moment we leave them..." I think its saying that we can't change the past as the days go by that what happens, happens. It then goes into describing the average elementary classrooms in the United States, with happy, cheerful, bright posters along the walls. Compared to the "...classrooms of our cousins on the other side of the earth..." classrooms that are not so fortunate, that may be ragged and tattered "...and in these rooms the students raise their hands and learn the stories of the world..." Even without all of the benefits and without being as spoiled as the students in the classrooms of western culture, our "cousins" are still happy and willing to be in their class room learning, even though they may not have the newest textbook or even any textbooks at all.

                 I think the narrator purposely left out much more background information, to make you curious as to who the character with the prayer in the boot could be. Whether it is a soldier or perhaps just a backpacker in the back country of less developed societies, and it bothers me not knowing what perspective to look at this poem in. It could even be a missionary on a mission trip. I think what motivated the author of the poem is the fact that we have it so good in our country, and most people don't appreciate what they have.  There are people here complaining that the screen on their phone cracked while there are still children throughout the world barely eating enough rice every day to survive.

                "...For library books in alphabetical order and family businesses that failed and the house with the boarded windows and the gap in the middle of a sentence and the envelope we keep mailing ourselves..."  I think she is trying to say we should be appreciative of the fact that we have enough books in one spot that they have to alphabetized to be able to find the exact one that you need. That even though a family business failed, at least a family had that opportunity to start that business in the first place and that house with the boarded windows, once offered much more protection to a family then an hut in Africa made from clay and leaves. That we may have some gaps in our sentences but we should be grateful that we are somewhat literate and finally that even though  we may be mailing ourselves a letter because someone may not be talking to us right at this moment, that we should be glad that we have the ability to communicate to anyone that we so please.

Response to Stitches: A Memoir

David Smalls' Stitches: A Memoir is a beautifully illustrated graphic novel of his memories as a child. Despite the disturbing and haunting events that happen to David throughout the book, I could not put it down once I began reading it. The first few pages of images show David's home life as a six year old, and it is evident that his childhood was not a happy one in a loving home with a loving family, like it should be. At the beginning of the book, you see David, sitting at the dinner table with his mother, father and brother in complete silence. This is when the author informs the reader of each of the family members way of communicating, each of their own languages. The mother has "her little cough," with the occasional sobbing behind closed doors, and the slamming of cupboard doors. As soon as his father got home from work he would go straight down to the basement to hit his punching bag and his brother, Ted, would constantly beat on his drums. But David would get sick, in order to get his own needed attention.

Within the first few illustrations you see David drawing a white rabbit, and later in the book find out his fascination with Alice in Wonderland. David's artistic skills help him escape from the silence and confusion of his family, to create his own friends within his imagination. He would occasionally dress up and pretend to be Alice, trying to find the hole to that other magical land in which talking animals and singing flowers existed, where he could get answers and find some sort of guidance. The same guidance the white rabbit had given Alice throughout her time in Wonderland. Yet he found no such mystical land in which the truth was revealed to him, just more lies and more abuse.

About half way through the book David starts to have a recurring  dream, a dream in which David goes through a series of smaller and smaller doors until he eventually stumbles upon a giant room scattered with piles of tattered books and never ending mounds of rubble. A scene of chaos and confusion just like the world Alice had entered, but this one was not filled with talking animals and singing flowers.

Towards the end of this graphic novel, when David is fifteen, we meet his psychotherapist. It is most peculiar how David Small portrays his therapist, with the body of a man and the head of a white rabbit. But with perhaps a little more insight, it is clear to see that this odd anthropomorphic therapist is like David's own white rabbit in his wonderland. While Alice rejects everything in the real world as a world of nonsense, David's world of nonsense is more like being told the truth, the exact opposite of Alice's wonderland. The new therapist almost becomes a father figure to David, helping him to see the truth in  life, which no one else has ever shown him. In fact most people never attempted to show him, they tried to hide it from him.

After reading this graphic novel, it amazes me that David turned out the way he did. It is a safe assumption that David's life would be drastically different if it were not for his therapist. Through the silence and confusion of his household growing up as a child, constantly being yelled at or lied to, or having his parents go on a shopping spree with big ticket items such as cars and boats, while their own son has an unusual massive growth on his neck. No child would be left mentally or emotionally unscarred from such experiences. Drawing, the very thing David would do to escape reality as a child, became the very thing that would help David Small illustrate this beautiful masterpiece.