One of the classes I am taking at the university is all about literature written mostly by dead white guys. There are some Chinese fellows in there and this semester there are even some African writers thrown in. But mostly it's white guys like Galileo and Locke. Hobbes and Thoreau. Goethe and Rousseau. Whitman. Who doesn't know Walt Whitman?? Someone has determined these writers to be awesome enough to have their writings compiled in a text book and studied by many many many a poor fool.
I pity the fool.
Actually, I seriously love this class and that is no word of a sarcastic lie. And, really, who am I to decide who is awesome enough to be studied billions of years later? I am thinking, though, that the criteria for being awesome is being confusing and really hard to understand, even though your native tongue is the same as mine.
Whatever, this is the class and I have to take it and I am okay with it. Even though it seriously cuts into my reading for pleasure time. Again, I love the class. I really love it.
I really do....
This week, we did a plethora of readings commonly referred to as poetry. I am super awesome at poetry. Poetry is my my jam.
Let me show you...
I will speak to you some poetry and whilst doing so I will offer up my interpretation of said poetry. My interpretation will be in italics. Here we go...
Wind blows south, or winds blow north,
Day come white, or night come black,
Home, or rivers and mountains from home,
Singing all the time, minding no time,
While we two keep together.
Shoot, I forgot to make a grocery list for the way home. And I can't remember what I was planning for dinner.
Blow! blow! blow!
Blow up seas winds along Paumanok's shore;
I wait and I wait till you blow my mate to me.
Toilet paper!! I keep forgetting to buy some toilet paper. Dang it. Why do we go through toilet paper so fast? I do believe it is unreasonably fast...
Listen'd to keep, to sing, now translating the notes,
Following you my brother.
I'm hungry. I wish I had a banana with me. I sure do love bananas....
Low hangs the moon, it rose late,
It is lagging -- O I think it is heavy with love, with love.
I am so tired, I can't believe my life right now. Kids, so many kids, and all needing to be somewhere. It is making me tired.....Reallllll tireddddddd....
O night! I do not see my love fluttering out among the breakers?
What is that little black thing I see there in the white?
Speaking of love...I feel like I haven't seen mine in forever. Oooooh, we should go to a movie. I love the movies.....I wonder what's playing right now....
Death, death, death, death, death.
Which I do not forget,
That was a lot of deaths. 1-2-3-4-5 deaths, good grief....
That strong and delicious word which, creeping to my feet,
or like some old crone rocking the cradle, swathed in sweet garments, bending aside,
The sea whisper'd me.
Hmmmm, I do believe I just read a 20 page poem. I do believe I have no clue what just happened here. I am awesome at this book learning stuff. Banana. I reeeeeally want a banana. Right now. Where can I get a banana from?
And that, my friends, is how Catherine Dabels does poetry. I should do really well on the paper associated with that poem......