Love Calls Us to the Things of This World by Richard Wilbur, p. 555-556

I was feeling poetic so I started reading off poem titles that I felt spoke to me in some sense..

The title immediately caught my attention, its so earthy and so romantic. As I was reading I came to find that it wasn't. At least not as much as I expected. Wilbur uses great use of imagination to what I perceived he was translating as heavenly sleep. The way he describes the routine up in this heaven-like place with these angels makes you want to appreciate and anxiously await the nightfall so that you, too, could bask in this experience. I like how he takes you from one scene to the next, how sleep if followed by dreams, followed by awakening in this chronological order. Simple yet interesting how he spices up the routine with his choice of words.

This poem resembles a lot of my own, but in a more skilled way. My imagination could spin towards the same concept but the depth is far more thought-provoking.

*THUMBS UP FOR WILBUR*

My Papas Waltz

Again I find myself scanning through this book from time to time and yet I find this poem catches my attention. 

The way I interpret this is a drunken abusive love between a father and his child. But what makes me curious is how much of an abusive love this is, if at all. 

Ex: (first stanza) The whiskey on your breath could make a small boy dizzy; but I hung on like death: such waltzing was not easy...

the tone of this poem is depressing and puts weight as you are reading it..kind of like you are the child itself experiencing this drunken man you call father. At least that is what I got from it. I feel I get an abusive tone from this because of the word death. Not sure if that is at all relevant but yeah....

Sylvia Plath, "Metaphors" (p.582)

As I was scanning through the text book I landed on a page where I suprisingly found a short poem by Slyvia Plath. Surprising because from the works I've read of hers, I took/take interest.

But anyway...I read this poem about 5 times and still was left taking away 2 things from it...or at least what I think I did. And that was setting and line to line analysis. By that I mean the way she described the setting, it came off as tropic. And by analysis, the first line "I'm a riddle in nine syllables" gave me the curiosity to count the syllables in the lines singularly. Whadddaya know...every syllable count was exactly 9. Thinking on it now, its a clever way to start off a poem introducing or stating clues hidden between lines. I don't know if anyone else would have checked but just a thought.And come to think of it, in her poem, her choice of diction allows me to imagine the charcter in her poem is a wealthy person simply vacationing, sightseeing, and getting off. Now, I could be entirely off track but thats just how I personally percieve it.

Interesting poem, but for me, Plath has better works.