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What makes Robert Frost's poems complicated? Options
cordial
Posted: Wednesday, January 04, 2012 10:10:15 PM
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Why does Robert Frost's poems seem complicated and require credical thinking to understand the story?
jcbarros
Posted: Wednesday, January 04, 2012 10:33:50 PM
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By credical you mean critical, don´t you?
cordial
Posted: Wednesday, January 04, 2012 10:40:52 PM
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Anxious oh yes.Thanks for the correction
songbird6
Posted: Thursday, January 05, 2012 9:44:29 AM

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Why does Robert Frost's poems seem complicated and require credical (critical) thinking to understand the story?

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-road-not-taken/

A poem is "never a put-up job.... It begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a loneliness. It is never a thought to begin with. It is at its best when it is a tantalizing vagueness."

"Poetry begins in trivial metaphors, pretty metaphors, 'grace' metaphors, and goes on to the profoundest thinking that we have. Poetry provides the one permissible way of saying one thing and meaning another.... Unless you are at home in the metaphor, unless you have had your proper poetical education in the metaphor, you are not safe anywhere."

He wanted to restore to literature the "sentence sounds that underlie the words," the "vocal gesture" that enhances meaning. That is, he felt the poet's ear must be sensitive to the voice in order to capture with the written word the significance of sound in the spoken word.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/robert-frost
Selections are from an excellent essay on Frost.
thar
Posted: Thursday, January 05, 2012 2:58:22 PM

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what exactly are you asking?
are you asking what is it about the writing style that makes the poems multilayered?

I think it is the simplicity, leaving room for it to mean whatever it means to you.

any literature, but especially poetry is about personal interpretation.
the story is simple. Any story you may read into it is entirely up to you. The role of the writing is just to get your brainwaves into the right state, loosen a few stuck cogs to open your soul to the possibilities...

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


what does that make you think of? Most likely NOT what he was thinking!:

Robert Frost on his own poetry:
"One stanza of 'The Road Not Taken' was written while I was sitting on a sofa in the middle of England: Was found three or four years later, and I couldn't bear not to finish it. I wasn't thinking about myself there, but about a friend who had gone off to war, a person who, whichever road he went, would be sorry he didn't go the other. He was hard on himself that way."
Bread Loaf Writers' Conference, 23 Aug. 1953


when you read it, it becomes your story, not his, and that is always going to be complex!!

my personal interpretation
(google image of, anyway!)

excaelis
Posted: Thursday, January 05, 2012 10:54:49 PM

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Robert Frost

Sanity is not statistical
Marissa La Faye Isolde
Posted: Friday, January 06, 2012 1:17:21 AM
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Here is another poem I read early this morning which I thought I would share:


"Today I pass the time reading
a favorite haiku,
saying the few words over and over.

It feels like eating
the same small, perfect grape
again and again.

I walk through the house reciting it
and leave its letters falling
through the air of every room.

I stand by the big silence of the piano and say it.
I say it in front of a painting of the sea.
I tap out its rhythm on an empty shelf.

I listen to myself saying it,
then I say it without listening,
then I hear it without saying it.

And when the dog looks up at me,
I kneel down on the floor
and whisper it into each of his long white ears.

It's the one about the one-ton temple bell
with the moth sleeping on its surface,

and every time I say it, I feel the excruciating
pressure of the moth
on the surface of the iron bell.

When I say it at the window,
the bell is the world
and I am the moth resting there.

When I say it at the mirror,
I am the heavy bell
and the moth is life with its papery wings.

And later, when I say it to you in the dark,
you are the bell,
and I am the tongue of the bell, ringing you,

and the moth has flown
from its line
and moves like a hinge in the air above our bed."

—Billy Collins from Sailing Alone Around the Room with thanks to Ox-Herding.

percivalpecksniff
Posted: Friday, January 06, 2012 6:23:40 AM

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Thar said: 'any literature, but especially poetry is about personal interpretation' unquote.

By and large I agree with that.

I was once asked by an English Teacher in Bangkok to do critiques for him on A Cambridge Anthology of poetry, used for

teaching English Language students and marked in Cambridge University. Here is an example. Now you may well understand

this poem different light and that is ok.

The poem is by that fine black poet Maya Angelou.



CAGED BIRD
Maya Angelou


A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats down-stream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun's rays
and dares to claim the sky


But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but long for still
and his tune is heard
on a distant hill
for the cgae bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bight lawn
and he names the sky his own

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing



In my view this poem can be seen from three different perspectives.... perhaps you will think otherwise.

1) It can be viewed simply as a comment on the contrast between a caged bird and a free one, and it reads well in that light; but that is too simplistic.

2) It can be viewed as a commentary on the physical slavery of the black man in America. The caged bird can be seen as representing the African American slave, while the free bird well represents the free or white man. But this confines the poem.

3) Or it can be seen in the wider context of the modern day socio-economic climate the black man finds himself in. Some may call it modern day slavery with all the racial prejudices, socio-economic confines and the ensuing poverty trap many black people find themselves in. Some may say that to some extent part of it is self-inflicted



Let us first take scenario 2.Verse 1 Relates to the 'free' or white man.

He ‘leaps on the back of the wind’

Off to where he will... free to envision... free to seek. The wind can take him anywhere.

He ‘floats downstream till the current ends’

He attains his goals…he achieves things…there is nothing to hinder him.

He ‘dips his wings…… and dares to claim the sky’

The world is his oyster….no limits….he is able to aim high…his vision is lofty. He both free to will and to do


Verse 2. This relates to the black African American slave.

The ‘bird that stalks in his narrow cage’

He is confined by ownership and the will of his owner….he has very little choice in his life. His demeanour and behaviour reflect this.

He ‘can seldom see through his bars of rage’

He lives in anger and deep resentment…it engulfs him and eats away at him…dominating his thinking. He seldom sees beyond this all pervasive feeling of anger and resentment.

His ‘wings are clipped and his feet tied’

His choices are taken from him and at times he is physically restrained by the use of chains. He is not free to roam where he will as his feet ‘are tied.’ This can be both metaphorically and literally. He cannot aspire to greater things as his ‘wings are clipped’ his hopes dashed in the confines of slavery.

So ‘he opens his throat to sing’

This is all that is left to him…it cannot be chained. He can speak and sing of freedom.


Verse 3 Relates to the black African American slave

The ‘caged bird sings with a fearful trill’

He has to be careful in his exercise of free speech… who is listening?

He sings of ‘things unknown but longed for still’

Most likely born into slavery and has never known freedom; but it is inborn... the right and desire of every man. He sees and observes those who are free and wonders what it would be like to be free…..how would he cope…. he wonders in fear.

And ‘his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom’

Freedom has ever been the song of mankind and it strikes a cord with most men. It is a song that will reach in to the furthest corners and eventually bear fruit. It is music to the ears of most men.

Verse 4 Relates to the free or white man.

The ‘free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees’

He is free to think beyond his present circumstances, to fulfil his dreams, and to have ambition and then to take action to attain it. Just as a free bird migrates on the trade winds to pastures rich and new, so the free man travels freely to new lands and places. He thinks and he does.

(The use of Trade Winds is interesting as these were used by the slave ships on their voyages to get slaves.)

And ‘the fat worms waiting’

The free man can seek his own wealth….he can carve out a future for himself. He can fulfill his dreams.

And ‘he names the sky his own’

There is no limit to his ambition or that which he may possess or own (there is a suggestion of arrogance or overriding ambition and pride in these words)


Verse 5 Relates to the black African American slave.

But ‘the caged bird stands on the grave of dreams’

The caged bird is confined to his cage and his walking area is the cage floor. The slave is confined by his master’s word and his place of dwelling on his master’s property. He may dream, but it is pointless as his dreams will die with him in his confinement …there is no hope in the place he is. No dream can be fulfilled here... they all, dreams... hopes, die in despair.



And ‘His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream’

There is no shadow at night except in moonlight or artificial light. What does the poet mean here? Does it mean that he screams in the night while having a nightmare and it is enough, figuratively speaking, to make his shadow jump? Or there is nothing of him that is free? Not even his shadow?

His ‘wings are clipped and his feet tied so he opens his throat to sing’

He is both mentally and literally shackled he cannot aspire to greater things.

This is all that is left for him to do to talk of freedom and to sing of it (Negro spirituals).



Let us take scenario 3

Verses 1 and 4 are the same as scenario 2


Verse 2 Relates to the black African American in modern day America.

No longer is in physical slavery but still not ‘free’ in the sense the white man is. Although in this scenario he can do something about it

But ‘a bird that stalks down his narrow cage’

The cage here is one installed by both the black man himself and by the socio-economic conditions he lives with and in.
In general black people in America are a poor class with limited aspirations (this does not have to be so) The cage is sometimes of their own making, but more often than not of that of society in general. They have to cope with racial prejudice which is still rampant in America.

He ‘can seldom see beyond his bars of rage’

His bars are not made of iron; they are mental bars. He can seldom see beyond his feeling of anger and injustice so as to set and achieve goals. Much of his energy is wasted on these feelings. But as seldom suggests, he can rise above this and break out.

His ‘wings are clipped and his feet are tied’

The black African American has the odds stacked against him by the socio-economic climate that surrounds him. He discriminated against socially and made to feel less than whole. Economically he is in the poor class, and also discriminated against in this field... as in the job market… in choice of job…low paid work…opportunities to rise up the ladder etc. etc.

He ‘sings of freedom’.

Nothing can douse this desire …but he can do more than sing; he can achieve, if he can see beyond his bars of rage.



Verse 3 Relates to the black African American in modern day America

The ‘caged bird sings of things unknown but longed for still.

This may relate to the fact that in general the black community has never known equality economically or socially. He wants it, but does not know it…..he has not experienced it.
He sings of equality from a position of underdog and this affects his tone.

But ‘his tune is heard on the distant hill…for the caged bird sings of freedom’

The distant hill... Capitol Hill perhaps, the seat of American government... could be. The voice of freedom is a powerful song and in time will reach the law makers and effect change. It is not a song that can be ignored indefinitely and in time will lodge in the hearts of men.

Verse 5 Relates to the black African American in modern day America.

But ‘the caged bird stands on the grave of dreams’

While he stands in this, often self-made, cage he will never achieve his dreams.
He needs to dismantle his bars of rage and set about changing the socio-economic
position he finds himself in. He can do it.

His ‘wings are clipped and his feet are tied’

Yes he has the odds stacked against him but he has one thing that will break down prejudice and discrimination; his voice.

So ‘he opens his throat to sing’

This is a powerful weapon and he is free to use it.




It is a beautiful poem that strikes a chord in the hearts of those who love justice and freedom. It is at once touching and at the same time very sad. One almost feels the pain and frustration... the sense of anger at injustice which rises up as the content is dwelt upon.


It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it. Aristotle
Marissa La Faye Isolde
Posted: Friday, January 06, 2012 9:53:35 AM
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Thank you Percival for your analysis of Maya Angelou's poem. As a lover of freedom and justice, I appreciated your profound insights.
Jeech
Posted: Monday, January 09, 2012 4:56:04 PM

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Great job percival. In Asian languages, particularly southasian ones, metaphors are frequintly used even in every day communications. So, building a certain imaginary environment with the help of metaphors in a poem to follow is quite natural. In poems you're tasked generally, to imaginations.

*It's wonderful to know that all languages are Greek if not understood.*
leonAzul
Posted: Tuesday, January 10, 2012 7:46:26 AM

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percivalpecksniff wrote:

In my view this poem can be seen from three different perspectives.... perhaps you will think otherwise.


Perhaps we don't need to be so belligerent to begin with, nor need special colors, nor need larger fonts. Think

"Sometimes I sits and thinks, and sometimes I just sits." - Satchel Paige
percivalpecksniff
Posted: Tuesday, January 10, 2012 11:40:49 AM

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LeonAzul. Male or female as the case may be since you balk at revealing your sex. For some reason only known to yourself,you said this: Perhaps we don't need to be so belligerent to begin with, nor need special colours, nor need larger fonts.

Let me do the opposite to you and politely say: I use big fonts because I have difficulty reading the usual size and I assume that perhaps some others on this forum are in the same position. As to colour perhaps one should remember that variety is the spice of life and that colours are provided for our use. With regard to belligerence, well a close and honest examination of your own post is all that is needed.

I am sorry that I do not conform to your standard of what is acceptable, but one must remember it is your view.



It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it. Aristotle
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