AP Poetry

2015-2016

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“The Victims” Sharon Olds

Sharon Stuart Cobb was born on November 19, 1942 in San Francisco, California, but was brought up in Berkeley, California along with her siblings.. She was raised as a “hellfire Calvinist”, as she describes it. Her father, like his before him, was an alcoholic who was often abusive to his children. In Olds’ writing she often refers to the time(or possibly even times) when her father tied her to a chair. Following her PhD on Emerson, Olds let go of an attachment to what she thought she 'knew about' poetic convention. Freed up, she began to write about her family, abuse, sex, focusing on the work not the audience.

When Mother divorced you, we were glad. She took it and took it in silence, all those years and then kicked you out, suddenly, and her kids loved it. Then you were fired, and we grinned inside, the way people grinned when Nixon's helicopter lifted off the South Lawn for the last time. We were tickled to think of your office taken away, your secretaries taken away, your lunches with three double bourbons, your pencils, your reams of paper. Would they take your suits back, too, those dark carcasses hung in your closet, and the black noses of your shoes with their large pores? She had taught us to take it, to hate you and take it until we pricked with her for your annihilation, Father. Now I pass the bums in doorways, the white slugs of their bodies gleaming through slits in their suits of compressed silt, the stained flippers of their hands, the underwater fire of their eyes, ships gone down with the lanterns lit, and I wonder who took it and took it from them in silence until they had given it all away and had nothing left but this.

The speaker starts off this poem with a really bitter tone. She goes into describing how happy she was when her parents got a divorce. Her mother, who seems to be in the right in the speaker’s eyes, “took it, in silence, all those years, and then kicked [her father] out suddenly.” The speaker then goes on to discuss all the other bad things that happened to her father that ended up making her happy. He lost his job, got all of his fancy things taken away, and all she can do is laugh at his misfortune. She laughed and hated him with all of her being until his “annihilation.” At this point in the poem there is a sudden switch in tone. The author becomes almost sympathetic for her father. This switch in tone is super effective since the whole poem is written in a single stanza and the switch is completely unexpected. All she can think about now is how her father had to go through the same things, taking it and taking it until finally he had nothing. It’s like what the speaker and her mother went through, but she never realized it until later on. The free verse structure of this poem also adds an interesting effect to the poem. It gives the speaker this rambling effect, like she is telling her father all of the feelings she has had built up inside for so long, and is no getting to finally release. The speaker is resolving the conflict in her mind just by reviewing the story and looking at it from a different side.

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“Wedding Ring” Denise Levertov

During the 1960s and 70s, Levertov became more politically active in her life. As poetry editor for The Nation, she was able to support and publish the work of feminist and other leftist activist poets.

My wedding-ring lies in a basket as if at the bottom of a well. Nothing will come to fish it back up and onto my finger again.                    It lies among keys to abandoned houses, nails waiting to be needed and hammered into some wall, telephone numbers with no names attached, idle paperclips.          It can't be given away for fear of bringing ill-luck.          It can't be sold for the marriage was good in its own time, though that time is gone.          Could some artificer beat into it bright stones, transform it into a dazzling circlet no one could take for solemn betrothal or to make promises living will not let them keep? Change it into a simple gift I could give in friendship?

Levertov uses an abandoned wedding ring as a metaphor for a couple’s marriage. She starts this poem off with a simile, comparing the basket the speaker’s wedding ring lies in to the bottom of a well. Most people don’t want to spend their time looking in the bottom of a well and the speaker surely doesn’t want to waste any more time looking at her ring in that basket or thinking about her marriage. She compares the ring laying in the basket to “keys to abandoned houses, nails waiting to be needed and hammered into some wall... [and] idle paperclips.” All of the words she uses to describe these images create a sense of abandonment. None of these things are really cared about, just like the speaker no longer cares about the marriage she was in. She doesn’t want to give the ring away because she doesn’t want anyone else to suffer the pain her marriage brought her, but she also doesn’t want to sell it because the marriage was good at one time. The poem seems to put the marriage in a pretty bad light, but towards the end she starts to soften up.The last two lines of the poem give it a different feeling. The speaker is curious if this ring could be changed “into a simple gift given in friendship.” She wants to be able to move on, so that one day her and her ex-husband could be friends again. The wedding ring once a sign of the couple’s happy marriage, could maybe become a sign of their friendship.

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“At the San Francisco Airport” Yvor Winters

Winters's early poetry was heavily influenced both by Native American poetry and by Imagism, being described as 'arriving late at the Imagist feast'. Although beginning his career as an admirer and imitator of the Imagist poets, Winters by the end of the 1920s had formulated a neo-classic poetics.Around 1930, he turned away from modernism and developed an Augustan style of writing, notable for its clarity of statement and its formality of rhyme and rhythm, with most of his poetry thereafter being in the accentual-syllabic form.

This is the terminal: the light Gives perfect vision, false and hard; The metal glitters, deep and bright/ Great planes are waiting in the yard- They are already in the night. And you are here beside me, small. Containted and fragile, and intent On things that I but half recall- Yet going whither you are bent. I am the past, and that is all. But you and I in part are one: The frightened brain, the nervous will, The knowledge of what must be done, The passion to acquire the skill To face that which you dare not shun. The rain of matter upon sense Destroys me momently. The score: There comes what will come. The expense Is what one thought, and something more- One's being and intelligence. This is the terminal, the break. Beyond this point, on lines of air, You take the way that you must take; And I remain in light and stare- In light, and nothing else, awake. 

“At the San Francisco Airport” by Yvor Winters was written for his daughter in 1954. He opens the poem by setting the scene. The terminal is described as having “light [that] gives perfect vision, false and hard.” The setting is really opening the speaker’s eyes to what is going on around him. Something is going to happen in this terminal that he isn’t ready for. The speaker then describes the person beside him, perhaps it is Winters talking about his daughter. He describes her as “small, containted and fragile, and intent on things that I but half recall.” He looks at her and sees the little girl she once was, but knows that she is going off to live the part of her life that he can’t seem to remember anymore. But he sees a lot of himself in her, writing that “you and I in part are one.” They both are nervous for the future. He is afraid because she is leaving, and she is afraid for what is to come. But he knows that since they are so alike, she has “the passion to acquire the skill to face that which you dare not shun.” She is has the dedication to conquer whatever it is she will take on. In the end of the poem, it is time for the plane to take off. Whatever happens from this point on, “[she will] take the way that [she] must take; and [he] will remain in light,” of the terminal. She is growing up and moving on with the next chapter and there is nothing he can do but let her go.

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“Morning” Billy Collins

Dubbed “the most popular poet in America” by Bruce Weber in the New York Times, Billy Collins is famous for conversational, witty poems that welcome readers with humor but often slip into quirky, tender or profound observation on the everyday, reading and writing, and poetry itself.

Why do we bother with the rest of the day, the swale of the afternoon, the sudden dip into evening, then night with his notorious perfumes, his many-pointed stars? This is the best— throwing off the light covers, feet on the cold floor, and buzzing around the house on espresso— maybe a splash of water on the face, a palmful of vitamins— but mostly buzzing around the house on espresso, dictionary and atlas open on the rug, the typewriter waiting for the key of the head, a cello on the radio, and if necessary, the windows— trees fifty, a hundred years old out there, heavy clouds on the way and the lawn steaming like a horse in the early morning.

Who knew there were actually morning people? Well Billy Collins surely might be one of the few. Billy Collins doesn’t just include setting in this poem, but he actually takes a stance on it. He believes that morning is the best time of day and he goes on to prove it. He starts off saying, “Why do we bother with the rest of the day,” already showing his favoritism towards the morning. Then he goes on to describe the aspects of the morning normally spoken of negatively in a positive way: “throwing off the light covers [and] feet on the cold floor.” Everyone goes through these motions to start their day but people never think to describe them in such a positive light. He goes on to discuss it even further, “ a splash of water on the face, a palmful of vitamins, but mostly buzzing around the house on espresso.” These words are so descriptive and let the audience imagine themselves doing these activities. Then it’s time for the speaker in the poem to start his day, moving to the “dictionary and atlas open on the rug, the typewriter waiting for the key of the head, [and] a cello on the radio.” Normally people hate starting these activities but this speaker seems to really enjoy it and the way he describes makes me as the audience almost want to reconsider my opinions on the morning.The descriptors really brighten the scene. And then he ends his poem with a simile, “the lawn steaming like a horse in the early morning.” Not only is he starting his morning, but so is the outside setting around him. Taking this normally negative setting and turning it into a positive really gives me a new perspective on the morning.

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“A Certain Lady” Dorothy Parker

Dorothy Parker was an American poet, short story writer, critic and satirist, best known for her wit, wisecracks, and eye for 20th-century urban foibles. From a conflicted and unhappy childhood, Parker rose to acclaim, both for her literary output in publications such as The New Yorker and as a founding member of the Algonquin Round Table. 

Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head, And drink your rushing words with eager lips, And paint my mouth for you a fragrant red, And trace your brows with tutored finger-tips. When you rehearse your list of loves to me, Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed. And you laugh back, nor can you ever see The thousand little deaths my heart has died. And you believe, so well I know my part, That I am gay as morning, light as snow, And all the straining things within my heart You'll never know. Oh, I can laugh and listen, when we meet, And you bring tales of fresh adventurings, -- Of ladies delicately indiscreet, Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things. And you are pleased with me, and strive anew To sing me sagas of your late delights. Thus do you want me -- marveling, gay, and true, Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights. And when, in search of novelty, you stray, Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go .... And what goes on, my love, while you're away, You'll never know. 

Imagine Taylor Swift’s “Teardrops On My Guitar.” Imagine the pain she was feeling as Drew continued to talk to her about his girlfriend, when all she wanted was to be with him. This is how I imagine the speaker in Dorothy Parker’s poem is feeling. She says, “I can smile for you, and tilt my head and drink your rushing words with eager lips... nor you can ever see the thousand little deaths my heart has died.” She does all of these things to get him to notice her and want to talk to her, but none of it works. She ends up heart broken every time. And to make a bad situation worse, he then starts talking to her “of ladies delicately indiscreet, of lingering hands, and gently whispered things,” all of which make her even more upset. All she wants to do is be with him and he just speaks of his women. This makes her very upset. Sometimes he leads her on, pretends he wants her in the way he has his other women, but she knows that she will never be enough for him. So all she can do is wait for him to come back, but even still, “what goes on.. while [he’s] away, [he’ll] never know.” She is spending all of her days while he is away crying about him and he spends nothing thinking of her. She seems as though she wants to stop interacting with him so that she can move on with her life, but his pull is so strong. She is caught in a never-ending love spiral that only brings her down.

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“Barbie Doll” Marge Piercy

Poet, novelist, and essayist Marge Piercy was born in Detroit, Michigan, on March 31, 1936. She won a scholarship to the University of Michigan and was the first member of her family to attend college. Piercy is dedicated to exploring the interstices of ideology and aesthetics by way of Marxist, feminist, and environmentalist strains of thought.

This girlchild was born as usual and presented dolls that did pee-pee and miniature GE stoves and irons and wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy. Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said: You have a great big nose and fat legs. She was healthy, tested intelligent, possessed strong arms and back, abundant sexual drive and manual dexterity. She went to and fro apologizing. Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs. She was advised to play coy, exhorted to come on hearty, exercise, diet, smile and wheedle. Her good nature wore out like a fan belt. So she cut off her nose and her legs and offered them up. In the casket displayed on satin she lay with the undertaker's cosmetics painted on, a turned-up putty nose, dressed in a pink and white nightie. Doesn't she look pretty? everyone said. Consummation at last. To every woman a happy ending.

Wow. Who knew that such few words could convey such a powerful meaning? But it is not just the words Piercy uses that give this poem meaning; it is the tone the words convey as well. Piercy took on a serious problem that females face in our society when writing this poem. There is a supposed stereotype that girls are meant to be perfect. Through her facetious tone, the author mocks society’s ridiculous standards of beauty and causes us to questions our own beliefs on beauty. Piercy begins her poem with an innocent little girl playing with her dolls. All of a sudden, this girl isn’t so little anymore and is now being mocked for her “great big nose and fat legs.” This girl, “healthy” and “intelligent” is now busy spending her time apologizing for the things that she can’t even change. Now she is forced to live out the life that society tells her will make her beautiful. She is to “play coy... exercise, diet, smile, and wheedle.” Eventually she becomes only a shell of who she once was and her “good nature [wears] out.” She had lost herself in society’s definition of beauty and could no longer find the beauty she had all along in herself. She surrendered to society and cut off the parts of herself that were not ideal.  With her “turned-up putty nose” and her legs covered all anyone could say at her funeral was “Doesn’t she look pretty?” To everyone there she was living out “a happy ending.” The irony of this last phrase really sums up the point the author is trying to get across with her tone. She has finally achieved this standard that society holds us to, but getting there was so hard that she ended up taking her life. This isn’t a happy ending and Piercy wants people to realize how absurd it is that society is forcing us to look at ourselves and only notice our imperfections. Through her facetious tone she proves just how absurd this idea actually is. We are not perfect, we are not Barbie dolls, but we are all beautiful.

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“Ars Poetica” Archibald MacLeish

Archibald MacLeish was an American poet, writer, and the Librarian of Congress. He is associated with the Modernist school of poetry. He received three Pulitzer Prizes for his work.

A poem should be palpable and mute As a globed fruit, Dumb As old medallions to the thumb, Silent as the sleeve-worn stone Of casement ledges where the moss has grown— A poem should be wordless As the flight of birds.                 * A poem should be motionless in time As the moon climbs, Leaving, as the moon releases Twig by twig the night-entangled trees, Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves, Memory by memory the mind— A poem should be motionless in time As the moon climbs.                  * A poem should be equal to: Not true. For all the history of grief An empty doorway and a maple leaf. For love The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea— A poem should not mean But be.

This seemingly simple poem about poetry becomes so much more when thoroughly analyzed. MacLeish writes about the uniqueness of poetry and its qualities. In his first section of couplets, he writes of his belief that poetry should be felt, not just read. Every poem has its own importance and should make people feel something. But it shouldn’t be too complex that everyone is not able to understand it. In order for people to be able to feel the poetry they need to be able to understand what it is saying. It should also be able to arrive at its point without a series of meaningless words. The next section goes on to describe how a poem “should be motionless in time as the moon climbs.” This couplet is actually repeated twice, allowing his audience to understand just how important this quality is.In the last section of the poem he starts by saying that “a poem should be equal to: not true.” A poem does not need to meet any standard; it creates its own standards. The last couplet says that a poem “should not mean but be.” Poetry doesn’t need to have a strict meaning that everyone believes. MacLeish wants to make the point that poetry is useless if no one can understand and relate to it because it will fade into history without being noticed. Poetry is meant to make us feel something, and it is pointless if it doesn’t. People try to force a poem to fit a certain category and it diminishes its purpose.