discussion post 1021 A+ Writers | apluswriters.net
This week, we continue analyzing poetry, but instead of one long poem, we have three short poems for analysis. All of them are more recent than anything we’ve read in class so far, and I’ve ordered them from oldest (1923) to newest (1997). This will be a much more freeform analysis. You’ve been answering my prompt questions all term, so this time, I’ll allow you to take the analysis where you want it to go rather than responding to particular questions from me.
For each of the three poems, simply write a short paragraph presenting your analysis of it that addresses the literal level (summary), the inferential level (interpretation of specific lines from the poem), and evaluative level (the bigger-picture meaning).
I’ve included the text of each poem below so that you don’t have to leave Blackboard at all for anything. As I’ve noted before, DO NOT Google information on these poems. Multiple interpretations are possible, and there are no wrong answers as long as your ideas are well supported. I haven’t even provided the names of the authors for these poems because I don’t want you to be influenced by anything other than the text itself. I’ll reveal the authors at the end of the week. Good luck!
“Nothing Gold Can Stay†(1923)
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
“Theme for English B†(1949)
The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you—
Then, it will be true.
I wonder if it’s that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem,
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:
It’s not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I’m what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you.
hear you, hear me—we two—you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York, too.) Me—who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,or records—Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn’t make me not like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?
Being me, it will not be white.
But it will bea part of you, instructor.
You are white—yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That’s American.
Sometimes perhaps you don’t want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that’s true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me—
although you’re older—and white—
and somewhat more free.
This is my page for English B.
“Close My Eyes†(1997)
I was wayward child
With the weight of the world
That I held deep inside
Life was a winding road
And I learned many things
Little ones shouldn’t know
But I closed my eyes
Steadied my feet on the ground
Raised my head to the sky
And though time’s rolled by
Still feel like that child
As I look at the moon
Maybe I grew up
A little too soon
Funny how one can learn
To grow numb to the madness
And block it away
I left the worst unsaid
Let it all dissipate
And I try to forget
As I closed my eyes
Steadied my feet on the ground
Raised my head to the sky
And the time rolled by
Still feel like a child
As I look at the moon
Maybe I grew up
A little too soon
Nearing the edge
Oblivious I almost
Fell right over
A part of me
Will never be quite able
To feel stable
That woman-child falling inside
Was on the verge of fading
Thankfully I
Woke up in time
Guardian angel I
Sail away on an ocean
With you by my side
Orange clouds roll by
They burn into your image
And you’re still alive
As I close my eyes
Steady my feet on the ground
Raise my head to the sky
And though time rolls by
Still feel like a child
As I look at the moon
Maybe I grew up
A little too soon
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