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 A place for discussion on poetry, reviews, contests, etc. |
Discussion: How to Find Meaning in a Poem Often, poems are meant to say what cannot be said in other forms of writing. They express ideas and feelings that can’t be presented in literal ways. Approaching a poem without preconceived ideas about what poetry should be frees us to immerse ourselves in the reading of each poem we encounter. A poem’s title may give you some place to begin the interaction with that poem. The poem’s shape and lineation and general visual presentation can invite you into the reading. To begin, read the poem aloud, and read it more than once. The first step is to hear what’s going on. Here are a few general questions you might ask when approaching a poem for the first time:  What does the title suggest?Who is the speaker?What situation is presented?What might be the poet’s reason for writing the poem?What is the poem’s mood?How does this poem make me feel?Am I able to relate to this poem?What form, if any, does the poem take?Does the poem use imagery to achieve a particular effect?What kind of figurative language, if any, does the poem use?Does the poem use unusual words or use words in an unusual way?There is no certain method for understanding poetry. The experience of reading a good poem and appreciating how the poet uses language is its own reward. As you read a poem, try to appreciate the meaning, purpose, and artistry it has to offer. ><><><><><>< Here are some poems for your reading pleasure. After each reading, ask yourself some questions about the poem that might help you understand and appreciate each poet’s message. Abandoned Farmhouse by Ted Kooser He was a big man, says the size of his shoes on a pile of broken dishes by the house; a tall man too, says the length of the bed in an upstairs room; and a good, God-fearing man, says the Bible with a broken back on the floor below the window, dusty with sun; but not a man for farming, say the fields cluttered with boulders and the leaky barn. A woman lived with him, says the bedroom wall papered with lilacs and the kitchen shelves covered with oilcloth, and they had a child, says the sandbox made from a tractor tire. Money was scarce, say the jars of plum preserves and canned tomatoes sealed in the cellar hole. And the winters cold, say the rags in the window frames. It was lonely here, says the narrow country road. Something went wrong, says the empty house in the weed-choked yard. Stones in the fields say he was not a farmer; the still-sealed jars in the cellar say she left in a nervous haste. And the child? Its toys are strewn in the yard like branches after a storm—a rubber cow, a rusty tractor with a broken plow, a doll in overalls. Something went wrong, they say. ( Source: https://www.poetryoutloud.org/poem/abandoned-farmhouse/ ) Wooden Boats by Judy Sorum Brown I have a brother who builds wooden boats, Who knows precisely how a board Can bend or turn, steamed just exactly Soft enough so he, with help of friends, Can shape it to the hull. The knowledge lies as much Within his sure hands on the plane As in his head; It lies in love of wood and grain, A rough hand resting on the satin Of the finished deck. Is there within us each Such artistry forgotten In the cruder tasks The world requires of us, The faster modern work That we have Turned our life to do? Could we return to more of craft Within our lives, And feel the way the grain of wood runs true, By letting our hands linger On the product of our artistry? Could we recall what we have known But have forgotten, The gifts within ourselves, Each other too, And thus transform a world As he and friends do, Shaping steaming oak boards Upon the hulls of wooden boats? ( Source: https://www.judysorumbrown.com/blog/wooden-boats ) Celebration by Denise Levertov Brilliant, this day – a young virtuoso of a day. Morning shadow cut by sharpest scissors, deft hands. And every prodigy of green – whether it's ferns or lichens or needles or impatient points of buds on spindly bushes – greener than ever before. And the way the conifers hold new cones to the light for the blessing, a festive right, and sing the oceanic chant the wind transcribes for them! A day that shines in the cold like a first-prize brass band swinging along the street of a coal-dusty village, wholly at odds with the claims of reasonable gloom. ( Source: https://allpoetry.com/Celebration ) A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand — How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream? ( Source: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52829/a-dream-within-a-dream ) ><><><><><>< Do you have any strategies you use when reading a poem for the first time? Please share! |
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