December 30

That is solemn we have ended,— (87) by Emily Dickinson

Elegy in Joy [excerpt] by Muriel Rukeyser - 1913-1980

The Old Year by John Clare - 1793-1864

Never Ever by Brenda Shaughnessy - 1970-

Caught  by Mary Hood

The Debate by Alison Luterman

excerpt from The Sun Magazine.

 What a delightful problem... so many wonderful poems!  Here are two we may not get to:

https://poets.org/poem/cento-between-ending-and-end?mc_cid=02c84caae4&mc_eid=248758c95e poem by Cameron Awkward Rich

 

https://poets.org/poem/burning-old-year?mc_cid=02c84caae4&mc_eid=248758c95e  an old favorite from Naomi Shihab Nye

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Nutshell summary:

Dickinson:  For such a small nugget of 8 lines, there is so much Emily offers: the odd syntax of the title emphasizes the word "solemn", and in colloquial terms we might read, "That which we have ended is solemn".   Solemn is not ended, but rather, the solemnity of the end is reviewed.  The word "play" as in "all the world is a stage and we are but actors in it", the chortle in the g's of glee in the garrets, the first of four possibilities, the other three, a holiday,  "a leaving home" (Jan reminded us how hard it was for Emily to leave home, and did not stay at Mt. Holyoke, because she missed it so) and "later" parting with a world we have understood... June shared her associations with the final word of the poem, "unfurled" -- the sense of sailing the world, the great unknown of the voyage, direction of the wind.  How to understand

this one sentence?  Is the final option "parting with a world" and the understanding, separate?  Have we understood, for better, that this world still waits to be "unfurled".  Is parting for better?  Is better to be unfurled, just not quite yet?  Is it all of that?  Endings are indeed solemn.  However,  if everything ended

would it doesn't matter?   Is what will happen next something we, or a next generation will witness? 

I'm not sure we reached any consensus of conclusion... but it certainly poses good questions on which to meditate.

Rukeyser: This is an excerpt: the poem, in its entirety, is from Birds, Beasts, and Seas: Nature Poems; also in Elegies of Peace; First published by New Directions in 1949. to view (with a critique) : 

I can't find the site where I found lines before this-- these help though and are in the couplet above the excerpted passage.

Though you die, your war lives: the years fought it,

fusing a deal world straight.

How do we tell beginnings?  How does joy insert itself in an elegy?  War is a deadly enterprise.  June

spoke of the difficulty her husband faces as a Vietnam vet, and how he survives by living in the moment.  This poem definitely repudiates war... celebrates nourishment, and "this instant of love" much like taking one minute at a time as a way to heal wounds.  How do we heal wounds?  perhaps start with a modest expression of gratitude that we exist.  We discussed at length the "faring stars", those final words.

Is it one as  alternative to them (like the Dickenson "or") a choice? One things of wayfaring... wandering, alone, or seafaring... where weather can make what familiar feel uncharted.  The constant is the seed, the beginning... the love (that gives us ourselves).

John Clare: How do you understand the new year as "all nothing everywhere"? the old year erased, "no footstep, mark, place".  Like the fire ceremony of "burning the old year", one can write down (identify), like burning the old papers, garments, leaves no trace, ( time, torn away).  At first blush, it seemed to be a rather depressing idea, but quickly the discussion turned to how to embrace the contradictions of "reality" vs. our perception of it.  Indeed, the new year is filled with unknown, time is fleeting... the form with the alternating rhymes gives us a solid grounding with which to ponder these things.

Shaughnessy:  We felt this poem must have been written in this year of pandemic... Delightfully enigmatic... full of great sounds as the couplets clatter through evers and wherevers and nothing is forever.  The idea of embracing opposites, whether Platonic unity separated into male/female; yin/yang; Rumi-esque joy/sorrow, in order to understand something, we need to conceive of its opposite.  To understand equality, we need to examine inequality. We spoke of cleave, its double sense of split, and to draw close; The word play is delightful as is the Capital C and O, (possibly a zero? as well as oh!, followed by 40 /minutes, 40 years, without going into Noah's flood).  "Ever... a double-edged word" for sure as sharp as a sword.  Never-ever... as in Peter pan, as in can't get there, can't get out of this, and how is  "late a synonym for dead, a euphemism for ever. "  As David remarked, if you want to understand this poem, memorize it!

Mary Hood: Do enjoy her poems and pictures!  We discussed her poem "Flowers" 12/16.

https://maryahood.org/2020/09/16/wind-from-the-sea-by-andrew-wyeth/

Note how beautifully she uses the repeated “caught” like a prism…in the past tense… and all the ways we can use the term. (The group also noted what she left out —  how she doesn’t mention the road… doesn’t mention the tattered edge of the curtains or those birds etched in their lace…)  The first part sets up a frame, just as Wyeth does… Then, poet, like the painter, shares with the reader/viewer, "catches our eye"… shares the mood— and with Mary’s deft and sensitive treatment, we see differently, this sense of loneliness… and an amazing shift of the “non referential” sky allowed to go free!  

Thank you Jim for sharing your visit to this home in Maine that Wyeth painted: 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olson_House_(Cushing,_Maine)

 You can go up route 1, get off at Thomaston.

Although it is 11 lines, it made me think of Gerard Manley Hopkins and the Curtal Sonnets he invented. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Curtal_sonnet

Luterman: Those with sibs, growing up in Brooklyn, or the Bronx really related to this scene, but the teasing, the insults, are so recognizable to all of us.  It brought up discussion about families -- how odd it is that the same parents produce such different kids -- and back to the theme of perception and how differently, even twins will see an experience.  Perhaps the best line in the poem was not from the father or brother, (who becomes more familiar -- first identified as brother, then uncle, then Uncle Barry) but the narrator, recognizing his father's stubbornness "Don't even try Uncle Barry" I almost say... 

Oh!  half lament, half celebration... may it all continue!

I ended with 6 lines of a 15 year old, Seth...  If you only read those lines, you could judge them however you want... but what makes them poignant is the context.  Seth, in the Juvenile Delinquent home... and his counselor responds to his "found" poem with "Dude, that is good!"  and Seth says, "It is?" and his counselor affirms, "yes! insanely good!"

Just like our group... we each bring our perspectives, fanning these words in poems alive by our sharing-- and end the session with the feeling -- "that was SO good".  Thank you all for a terrific 2020 -- zooming along since March... I hope to see you all in person in 2021!