R.+Taylor

 =__//Desiderata//__= //By Max Ehrmann//

//Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender// //be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly;// //and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals;// //and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.//

Max Ehrmann (1872-1945) was born in Terra Haute, Indiana. His parents were immigrants from Bavaria (the southern region of Germany). Ehrmann attended college at Harvard, focusing his studies on the disciplines of Law and Philosophy, after which he would go on to a career as a Deputy States Attorney for a few years and later on, as a credit manager/attorney for a manufacturing company owned by his brother. Upon reaching age 40, Ehrmann took what appears to me to be an 'early retirement', quitting his work as a businessman and deciding to commit all his time to being a writer. Until this, writing had been only a pastime to Ehrmann, even though he published his first work while in college. Ehrmann produced over 20 published works throughout his life, //Desiderata// being perhaps his most well-renown work of all. Unfortunately, as is the case with many famous writers, //Desiderata// did not gain its fame until long after Ehrmann had died.

__Analysis:__
 * Literal Interpretation**: a set of directions for how to attain happiness in life
 * Ambiguity**: any of this poem //could// be taken as ambiguous, but that is another thing that makes it so beautiful. It is open and flexible to be applied to any situation whatsoever and to be percieved as you will.
 * Personal Interpretation**: //Desiderata// was unfortunately not in our Anthology book, but I really wanted to include it in my Wiki, as this poem has been my 'mantra' for living for as long as I can remember. So I'm going out on a limb and including this poem. My dad has recited this poem to me since I was a child, and I find it always present in my mind. Even as of recently, whenever I would go to him with a problem or a big decision in front of me, he would quote a line or two from this poem, and it would always make sense. This poem, in my opinion, is the simplest and most complete set of directions for how to live life and find what happiness you may. Conducting yourself with others, achieving goals, finding a career (and succeeding in it), experiencing love, coping with life's roadbumps, maintaining a stable status of mental health, gracefully growing old, and dying - //Desiderata// leaves no stone unturned. Ehrmann himself is quoted in his diary as saying thus, //"I should like, if I could, to leave a humble gift -- a bit of chaste prose that had caught up some noble moods."//

//__**The Dance**__//
//By William Carlos Williams

In Brueghel's great picture, The Kermess, the dancers go round, they go round and around, the squeal and the blare and the tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and fiddles tipping their bellies (round as the thick- sided glasses whose wash they impound) their hips and their bellies off balance to turn them. Kicking and rolling about the Fair Grounds, swinging their butts, those shanks must be sound to bear up under such rollicking measures, prance as they dance in Brueghel's great picture, The Kermess.//

William Carlos Williams (1883-1963), a New Jersey native, was born to an English immigrant father and a Puerto Rican mother in the town of Rutherford. He attended public school in the United States until reaching his years of higher education, at which time he attended schools in Switzerland and France, eventually returning to the United States to attend a college in New York City. Some time after this, Williams decided to attend medical school in Pennsylvania. Despite his career as a doctor, he also balanced an avid career as a writer. Williams produced countless works of various different varieties over the years and made quite a name for himself not only amongst other noted artists, but politics and academia as well. Williams married a woman named Florence "Flossie" Herman, and they had sons. Toward his seventies, Williams's health began to decline as he suffered several strokes, a heart attack, and a terrible bout of depression, for which he was hospitalized.

__Analysis__:
 * Literal Interpretation**: This poem is WCW's perception of the painting "The Kermess" by Brueghel. He describes how they appear to be dancing, drinking, playing music, and generally just having a dandy time.
 * Ambiguity**: This poem seems to be fairly straightforward. It is WCW's opinion of what he sees in the painting.
 * Personal Interpretation**: I like the way Williams describes this poem. If it were not already lively enough, he really brings movement to the piece with his words. I can hear the bagpipes and see the village people dancing like there isn't a care in the world. I liken this poem to the party scene of the 20'th century. This painting depicts a peasant's homecoming weekend.

=//**__The Waking__**//= // By Theodore Roethke

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know? I hear my being dance from ear to ear. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you? God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there, And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how? The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair; I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do To you and me; so take the lively air, And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know. What falls away is always. And is near. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I learn by going where I have to go.//

Theodore Roethke (1908-1963) was born in Michigan to a German father and American mother. Several tragic deaths in his family and an attack by the family pet, a 'tamed' wolf, shaped Roethke's disposition and mental stability for life. Roethke battled severe depression throughout his adult life. Roethke attended both the University of Michigan and Harvard, after which he worked as a college professor at numerous institutions in the United States. Roethke ended up marrying one of his ex students, Beatrice O'Connell, who supported him despite his depression. Roethke drowned at the age of 55 after suffering a heart attack while in a swimming pool.

__Analysis__:
 * Literal Interpretation**: This poem talks about a person waking up and persevering through life in each passing day. Learning through merely pressing forward, the author questions what he sees and at the same time accepts his surroundings for what they endlessly are. The circle of life, if you will.
 * Ambiguity**: This poem is full of ambiguity and is highly open to interpretation. Specifically, parts that I still question include the capitalization of "Ground!" and "Tree;".
 * Personal Interpretation**: What this poem said to me is something that I have thought myself on a number of occasions on my journey of self discovery/finding a career/etc which most college students probably experience. It is this: life is going to 'happen' regardless of what you do; the only thing that is certain is that despite where life takes you, it is going to do just that- //take// you. Perpetual movement until death. If ever you feel that you are going nowhere, think again, because with each passing minute that you draw breath, you are doing just that - going, and inevitably learning as you go.

=//__**To the Snake**__//= // By Denise Levertov

Green Snake, when I hung you round my neck and stroked your cold, pulsing throat as you hissed to me, glinting arrowy gold scales, and I felt the weight of you on my shoulders, and the whispering silver of your dryness sounded close at my ears -

Green Snake - I swore to my companions that certainly you were harmless! But truly I had no certainty, and no hope, only desiring to hold you, for that joy, which left a long wake of pleasure, as the leaves moved and you faded into the pattern of grass and shadows, and I returned smiling and haunted, to a dark morning.//

Denise Levertov (1923 - 1997) was born in England, but eventually gained American nationality when she married an American and moved to the US. They had one son named Nikolai, and later divorced. Levertov's father, an immigrant from Germany to England, was a Russian Hassidic Safardic Jew turned Anglican priest. Levertov's works covered many different topics including nature, politics (the Vietnam War, in particular), and of course, religion. Though her father was raised Jewish and became an Anglican priest, Levertov converted (towards the end of her life) to Roman Catholicism, and embraced it. With her father's background and affiliation with the clergy of several denominations and cultures, it is no wonder that Levertov grew up with a vast knowledge and grasp of her spirituality. Levertov published some 20 collections of poetry and also did some editing work during her lifetime as a writer. She won numerous prestigious awards.

__Analysis__:
 * Literal Interpretation**: This poem is about the author picking up a snake, looking at it, experiencing it, and then because her companions expressed distaste, apparently, she places it back onto the ground and watches it slither back to the wild.
 * Ambiguity**: The last part of this poem could mean a number of things, and is strikingly different from the rest of the poem, "...and I returned smiling and haunted, to a dark morning." When I say that it is different from the rest of the poem, I say this because it suddenly becomes 'dark' and somewhat sad-sounding, like the author, having momentarily retreated to nature's splendor, is being forced to stagger back into her "dark morning". It is also possible that the author is literally describing the morning as being dark. Perhaps it was an overcast morning, perhaps it was foggy, or maybe it was just very very early in the morning before the sun has come up. It is ultimately entirely up to interpretation.
 * Personal Interpretation**: When I read this poem, I thought immediately of a time when I was a child when we caught what must have been a 15 inch green snake in our backyard. I remember being very interested in it and wanting to keep it as a pet, but was persuaded to 'return him to his home' and let him slither away in the yard, after inspecting him. I like poems that trigger memories and snapshots in my mind, this is perhaps why I selected this one for my Wiki. Either way, I interpret this poem as the author having had a similar experience. She found the snake, picked it up, enjoyed spending a few moments with the creature, returned it to nature, and went on with life.

=__**Buffalo Bill ' s**__=

By E. E. Cummings

Buffalo Bill ' s defunct who used to ride a watersmooth-silver stallion and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat Jesus he was a handsome man and what i want to know is how do you like your blueeyed boy Mister Death

E.E. Cummings (1894-1962) was born in Massachusetts, in the town of Cambridge. His father was a minister and college professor at Harvard; a man whom E.E. highly admired, even calling him a 'hero'. Cummings wrote poetry even from a very young age, allegedly even at the young age of three. Cummings also attended Harvard for college. Cummings went on to be fairly active in the anti-war scene. Once, Cumming and a friend were even arrested on account of suspected espionage, after which they were detained in a military camp in France. An outspoken man, he was not shy to voice his opinion and hatred for Germans. Later in his life, Cummings was traumatized by the tragic loss of his father after a car accident in which a train struck his father and mother. His mother survived. Cummings was married three times. Cummings took it easy in his last few years of life, fulfilling goals of traveling, vacationing, and attending speeches and such engagements at his leisure. He died at the age of 67 after suffering a stroke.

Analysis: Literal Interpretation: This poem is about the legendary cowpoke 'Buffalo Bill'. The author questions why death took him and comments on not only his handsomeness but the impressive manner in which he rode his stallion. Ambiguous: This poem is fairly straightforward. I found no ambiguous parts. Personal Interpreatation: I enjoyed this poem because for as long as I can remember, my Grandmother (whom I am very close to) has been a huge fan of Westerns. I can remember watching The Apple Dumpling Gang and Gunsmoke and Bonanza with her from childhood and even today. Cummings uses interesting speech to draw the reader into this poem, using his words to enable you to hear the hoofprints of Bill's steed and see the pigeons scatter as he rides through them.

=__//Untitled//__=
 * __[Extra Credit Poem]__** [[image:clocks.jpg width="321" height="226" align="right"]]

Hello old comfort I fall to you again Your wanton grasp caresses my heavy eyes and yet- I cannot give in to what you desire See I am here again like a package wrapped in plain brown paper and a bit of discarded twine - Return to Sender - You comfort me, old sorrow Old hurt you do me no good but cosmetic comfort in the time of sin and silence. I am given a blanket of control - the hand of time. ...When I place myself under your wings. My runaway place A time to indulge Nudge you with my warm shiny hair and I am shrouded in a walking vaudeville, a surprise around the bend. Hello old comfort I've brought you the pit of my left eye, you can stop collecting now. Hello old dear. Hello, Insomnia.

I wrote this poem one night when I was having trouble sleeping.