Poems for Sept. 9 + 11

 Elegy for a Walnut Tree  by W.S. Merwin; A Last Look  by W.S. Merwin; Saint Paul by Hieu Minh Nguyen;  Characteristics of Life by Camille T. Dungy;  Clam  by Mary Oliver; The Specific Ocean by Jenny Browne

Elegy for a Walnut: One feels an intimate conversation with the walnut trees. Polly mentioned what a giving tree a Black Walnut is, with a difficult nut, but once you break it open, you are well=rewarded.  The personification is skillfully crafted (curled sleeping finger/of newborn leaves) with the sense that humans are not the main players.  There is a sense of centuries in the lines "already you had lived through wars/and echoes of wars"  and a complicity of life's universals with "you and seasons spoke the same language".

 

A Last Look:  the title invites multiple nuances.  Why a "last" look?  at what? As Neillie noted,

it could be a continuation of the above poem.  A gentle jab at hubris and observation of how some are disassociated from the natural world and just don't notice the loss.  One could turn around the cliché that one doesn't see the forest for the trees to say, we fail to see trees, given the forest of our "urban" preoccupations. 

 

John Milton: Sonnet 19:  When I consider how my light is spent:   

“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” 

   I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent 

That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need 

   Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best 

   Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state 

Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed 

   And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest: 

   They also serve who only stand and wait.”

   

 

Saint Paul :  in the Aug. 24 + Aug. 31 issue of the New Yorker.  The poem delivers with a light touch of humor  and refreshing honesty his "pilgrimage" and evolution of views on multiple religions.  The final three lines provide a powerful conclusion, to his gratitude of learning about gods, friends... and confident about freedom to choose his version of heaven, with options to leave!  We did discuss "my want is just the want of birds" with an array of interpretations stemming from birds being both physical, with need to eat, survive, but also able to be above physical bounds, which echo more metaphorical considerations.  A lovely reminder that whoever we are as human, we are all in this together.

 

Characteristics of Life:   the title certainly doesn't make you think to start with small creatures, however,   the epigraph sets up reference to animals without backbones. 

Her perspective of "speaking for" them adds opportunities for personification. If the "you" in the final stanza is a firefly or some human.  Regardlesss, spineless is not to be dismissed and calling invertebrates mindless totally misses the point.

 

Clam:  In two short paragraphs, Oliver paints the power of the will to live.  "Terrible" as adjective has the awesome quality of a god.  If a clam buries itself, does it escape the "terrible effort of thinking" ?  Maybe small mollusks feel as we do.   The opening sentence “Each one is a small life, but sometimes long, if its place in the universe is not found out” — to quote Devin Kelly might serve as a definition for any living thing in this universe, even us.  He goes on in his blog to explore what it is to be "found out", and what it is to find out one's place, knowing, at the end, the inevitable is that we die. 

 

The Specific Ocean:  starts with   a child's mispronunciation of "Pacific" -- as in pacificus, meaning "peaceful" or "peace-making" toboos mean specific.  And what do we find in the specific details but disquieting details such as "torn" with the red booster seat.  The fisherman's slicker is "bloodied"... some strange association with "intake form" and "how many live births" as if a mother is about to miscarry yet again.

 

Time/weather: same word.  Daughter/daughter, in different times, memories which the reader can only guess at.  The poet's note speaks to how the sea reminds you of who you are and were.