I Said To Poetry

I laughing my I and all the sky feels pie.

by bakaka courtesy of
http://www.languageisavirus.com/cgi-bin/madlibs.pl

^ Found that random poem generator while i was searching online for help in analyzing the poem I'm going to perform next Tuesday.

I took a long time deciding which poem to perform. Incidentally, 3 poems in the anthology (Literature & Its Writers, Charters & Charters) were in our Literature Component in Form 1 & Form 4 =D, i.e. The Road Not Taken (someone in my class is going to perform this), Lake Isle of Innisfree, and Sonnet 18!!! Lol.

I really like Innisfree, and while googling about it i found out that Innisfree is actually a real place in Ireland. And I heard a recording of Yeats himself reading/humming the poem [it's totally different from how I read it - much less dramatic & with a rather droning tone but with an interesting underlying rumbling beat to it. As if he was humming this little thing to himself while farming on the Lake Isle]. But I decided it was too short a poem to perform (2-4 mins).

Sonnet 18. Hahahah. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. I still remember how Sc1 ppl imitated Ms. Wong pronouncing 'temperate'. But I think I was scared I would seem too "high flown" while performing this poem and end up mispronouncing words so I didn't choose it.

More poems. My lecturer is interested in social issues (esp. feminism) underlying literature, so I kept my eyes out for one. I also felt that it would help me be less dependent on my "dramatic" style. I am so keen on this because the 103 Handbook (our pdf 'textbook') said on pg25,

"But it is best for the performer to seek to match his or her
body with that of the poem, since, as an artist, the performer exists to perform the
poem. Certain "personality readers" seek instead to turn all poems into their own
bodies, and they make all poems sound pretty much alike. However profitable
commercially such personality performers may be, they are not the kind of performer
we are interested in developing. Such performers do not grow, they stagnate; as
artists they die."

O_O That sounds like a certain somebody (me). No I don't want to grow moldy and die X.X

Anyway, among all the poems with a political message, "War Is Kind" by Stephen Crane attracted me. It's not too long either (we have to memorize the poem we're performing o.o")

Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.

Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky

And the affrighted steed ran on alone,

Do not weep.

War is kind.

Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment,
Little souls who thirst for fight,
These men were born to drill and die.
The unexplained glory flies above them,
Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom --
A field where a thousand corpses lie.

Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.

Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,

Raged at his breast, gulped and died,

Do not weep.

War is kind.

Swift blazing flag of the regiment,
Eagle with crest of red and gold,
These men were born to drill and die.
Point for them the virtue of slaughter,
Make plain to them the excellence of killing
And a field where a thousand corpses lie.

Mother whose heart hung humble as a button

On the bright splendid shroud of your son,

Do not weep.

War is kind.

It's something that I can relate to, and thought I would be able to perform.
So I put my choices on Blackboard (online course management system) - "War is Kind" or "I Said To Poetry" - I couldn't decide which one to do.

The next day after class, one of my classmates came to me and asked about it because he wanted to perform this poem (we were both performing on the same day). Hence to make things easier for him and for me, I decided to do "I Said To Poetry".

I still do have lingering feelings for "War Is Kind", but I guess there's no turning back. Let's hope that I can pull off "I Said To Poetry" and not grow mold and die. =P

****
Alice Walker, 'I Said To Poetry'

I said to Poetry:"I'm finished
with you."
Having to almost die
before some weird light
comes creeping through
is no fun.
"No thank you, Creation,
no muse need apply.
I'm out for good times--
at the very least,
some painless convention."

Poetry laid back
and played dead
until this morning.
I wasn't sad or anything,
only restless.

Poetry said: "You remember
the desert, and how glad you were
that you have an eye
to see it with? You remember
that, if ever so slightly?"
I said: "I didn't hear that.
Besides, it's five o'clock in the a.m.
I'm not getting up
in the dark
to talk to you."

Poetry said: "But think about the time
you saw the moon
over that small canyon
that you liked so much better
than the grand one--and how suprised you were
that the moonlight was green
and you still had
one good eye
to see it with.

Think of that!"

"I'll join the church!" I said,
huffily, turning my face to the wall.
"I'll learn how to pray again!"

"Let me ask you," said Poetry.
"When you pray, what do you think
you'll see?"

Poetry had me.

"There's no paper
in this room," I said.
"And that new pen I bought
makes a funny noise."

"Bullshit," said Poetry.
"Bullshit," said I.

****
Sorry if the colored font distracted you.

I wonder what you think the poem means? And how would you perform it or how would you like to see it being performed? I'd like to know what other people think. Do tell me.
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For some background about the "one eye", yes, the poet has only one good eye. According to The Official Alice Walker Biography, when she was young, her brothers accidentally shot her right eye with a BB gun and, not wanting to take the blame, they made up a story and persuaded her to go along. She did, and that experience had a lasting impact on her.
.
It's a really fun poem, and I hope I can pull some meaning out of it, other than the fun part.
Oh yeah I have to write a 4-5 page paper about the process of analyzing this poem. =.=" Gotta continue with my work [Gah I have a lot to do man]
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Ja mata