[hist whist]
hist whist
little ghostthings
tip-toe
twinkle-toe
little twitchy
witches and tingling
goblins
hob-a-nob hob-a-nob
little hoppy happy
toad in tweeds
tweeds
little itchy mousies
with scuttling
eyes rustle and run and
hidehidehide
whisk
whisk look out for the old woman
with the wart on her nose
what she’ll do to yer
nobody knows
for she knows the devil ooch
the devil ouch
the devil
ach the great
green
dancing
devil
devil
devil
devil
wheeEEE
E.E Cummings poem "[hist whist]" makes me visualize what he is talking about and even maybe what the things would be thinking, "...little ghostthings tip-toe twinkle-toe..." puts the reader in the little ghostlings mind for a split second, the reader can almost relate to the words in a strange way. I also get the feeling that the poem probably takes place on either devils night or Halloween or at least that's what it reminds me of! It just has that spoopy feel to it, creepy but cute because it talks about goblins and other things! I actually like it because the paseing and what they did with the spacing, it makes the reader either read the words quickly or stop to read the next line. It gives a sort of unruly feel to the poem, which adds to the spoopy feel!
[in Just-]
in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman
whistles far and wee
and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful
the queer
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and
it's
spring
and
the
goat-footed
balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee
E.E Cummings "[in Just-]" makes me think about a kite on a moderately windy day, its swoopy, and swishy, a good kite flying day. So it reminds me of a windy spring day through a child's mind maybe? Not sure. I also tend to like this one because of its strange innocence. I feel that in some contexts though I would find the "balloonMan" kinda creepy because I would think of a spectral being or a spirit. I think i also like it because i related it to being told a story through a child's reasoning of things, and even though some things seem a little off beat and the spacing and stuff help that part in this poem as well!
from Cabbage Gardens
The past
will overtake
alien force
our house
formed
of my mind
to enter
explorer
in a forest
of myself
for all
my learning
Solitude
quiet
and quieter
fringe
of trees
by a river
bridges black
on the deep
the heaving sea
a watcher stands
to see her ship
winging away
Thick noises
merge in moonlight
dark ripples
dissolving
and
defining
spheres
and
snares
Place of importance as in the old days
stood on the ramparts of the fort
the open sea outside
alone with water-birds and cattle
knee-deep in a stream
grove of reeds
herons watching from the bank
henges
whole fields honeycombed with souterrains
human
bones through the gloom
whose sudden mouth
surrounded my face
a thread of blue around the coast
feathery moon
eternity swallows up time
peaceable as foam
O cabbage gardens
summer’s elegy
Susan Howes "from Cabbage Gardens" made me think of memories flashing by, like the reader was getting a look through the poems memory's or something! I sort of also get kinda a lonely feel as well. Maybe some nostalgia? Just thinkin' bout those cabbage gardens, takes me back, to the way things used to be... I enjoyed this poem actually, I like the faster paced poems because they give me better visuals, this poem is fast and feel I zoomed through the fields and streams.
from Hinge Picture
“Crawl in,” said the witch, “and see if it’s hot enough to put the bread in.”
—Hansel and Gretel
All roads lead to rooms. —Irish Proverb
—Hansel and Gretel
All roads lead to rooms. —Irish Proverb
a stark
Quake
a numb
Calm
*
clutching my Crumbl
ejumble
among
Tombs and
in Caves
my
Dream
Vision
Oarsman, oarsman,
Where have you been?
I’ve been to Leafy,
I’ve dismembered the Queen.
Oarsman, oarsman
What did you there?
I hid in a cleft,
I braided the air.
hearing our oars where their freed goatsteps sped
and are silent
by an extinct river
O Babylon when I lay down
alert for sliding cataracts
where in corridors the print of dancing feet
beyond poise I am prey
posing in snow-light
being of human form
clothed in the scales of a fish
Count him a magician
he controls the storm
walked on the sea shouting
that he is the Logos of God
that he is the Word original and first begotten
attended by power
upheld by his mother
(a very active gesturing baby)
what if Simon Peter Jesus himself
walked among the cold stone faces
shouting NIKA
emptyeyed blanksmiling
Swiftness divination these false gods
their commerce is the cloud
so they can learn what is preparing in the sky
Artificer of the universe
Magician who controls the storm
to see you in one spot
I count the clouds others count the seasons
Dreaming of archipelagos and the desert
I have lived through weeks of years
I have raked up fallen leaves for winter
after winter across an empire of icy light
Light of our dark is the fruit of my womb
or night falling through the reign of splashes
Liquid light that bathes the landscape in my figure
Clairvoyant Ireland
eras and eras encircled by sea
the barrows of my ancestors have spilled their bones
across the singing ear in hear or shell
as wreck or wrack may be in daring
There were giants on the earth in those days
feasts then on hill and fort
All night the borders of my bed
carve paths across my face
and I always forget to leave my address
frightened by the way that midnight
grips my palm and tells me that my lines
are slipping out of question
Divorce I manumission round
with a gentle blow the casting branch
my right hand My covenant
was garment concealed or mask or matron
Proceed with measured step
the field and action of the law
Like day the tables twelve
whip torch and radiate halo
Sky brewing coming storm
Faraway over the hill
when Hell was harrowed
and earth was brought to heel
how the hills spread away
how the walls crumbled
deathcolored frozen in time
Where was the senate zone and horizon
Where are the people mountain of light to the east
Tell them I sail for the deep sea rest
a painless extraction a joyful day
bird of passage over all I love
Goodbye to all the little fir trees
of the future
far off in the dread
blindness I heard light
eagerly I struck my foot
against a stone and
raised a din at the
sound the blessed Paul
shut the door which had
been open and bolted it
Susan Howes "Hinge Picture" made me think of grass and horses and crazy weather. The timing of the paragraphs shift and speed and slow, from the beginning towards the end. I thought we were getting a story about a man trying to hide in a storm or a war, and near the end I figured it might be a story about life and death and new hopes or lack of. NOT SURE but that's what I got out of it.
Linton Kwesi Johnson's poem "sence outta nonsence" Is talking about how our reliance on the government and the sillys who run our country makes us fools and we pay the price instead of them! I think anyways. The fool is cho. I really enjoy Linton's poetry, it forces you to think about the wording and helps you think about the rhythm of the words. everything seems very well planed out but in a subtle way. I enjoy basically every poem ive read from him, he has a real feel to his words, and its easy to relate to his stuff. He gives us his honesty and I enjoy that!
Linton Kwesi Johnson's poem "Time Come" makes me think about crooked government officials and how eventually not just a few people will be affected by it. Hes saying that he warned us, and you get a feeling that he knows and has been through or seen certain people go through stuff. I like this guy. I like him hes cool. Also again his word choices again make you think harder about the content of what he is saying and sometimes makes you read it twice. It fits better in my mind than other stuff. Its good. Aww yis.
My first impression of "The hist whist " was also something related to Halloween. It gave me a creepy feeling when I read it but it was fun all as well.
ReplyDeleteOh, now that I think about it does seem as if the words are being blown away due to the spacing in "in just-". Interesting observation.
Linton Kwesi Johnson has some some incredibly fun to read poems about the society that he lives in, especially someone of his own ethnicity. The fact that he writes these poems in the same way he would speak, makes it easier to relate to and makes him seem more human as it gives his voice character.
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