ENGLISH CLASS: Interpreting Dark Poems

For my English class, we're reading poems by poets such as Robert Frost, or "ee cummings." Today, I'll be sharing one out of three poems. This one is my personal favorite.

Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening

by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

What's the first impression of this poem? What does it appear to be about? At first, on the most literal level, it's about this:

A man stops by some woods on his horse. He knows there is a man owning these woods, yet he does not think that man is here right now. He talks about his horse wondering where the farmhouse or shelter is. It's the darkest evening of the year. The horse asks if there is some mistake, but evidently, the man doesn't think so. He thinks the woods are great, and pretty, but he must leave now.

That's the most LITERAL interpretation. Before we went over it in my English class, I thought of it that way, too. But, really, it's about something way more deep, dark, and morbid. I'll tell you right now.

Two words: DEATH WISH.

This man is thinking about killing himself. 

In Stanza Number One, he's not talking about some rich man owning the woods. He's talking about God, and how God doesn't stay here in these woods. So, there won't be anything to stop this man, or protect him.

In Stanza Number Two, the little horse represents something: the man's conscience. He knows that he shouldn't stop here without some shelter, between the woods(death) and the frozen lake(even more death), in the darkest evening of the year. Why would he stop by the woods on the coldest day ever, if he doesn't want to at least hurt himself?

In Stanza Number Three, his conscience gives what a shake? His harness bells. And when else do you give bells a shake? When a king dies.

In Stanza Number Four, the final one, he says how it's so tempting to just stay there in those cold woods, just let himself freeze to death. But he has miles to go before he sleeps, or rather, years to go before he dies.

I realize this is really morbid, but it's really interesting to me how Robert Frost wrote this poem. He claims to have written in all in one standing. (I agree, if one standing can take four days straight.) It's my favorite poem, because it sounds so innocent, when really, it's about something way more powerful.

MY BEST FRIEND'S POEMS

Oh, she's going to hate me for this. But the point is, my best friend, Goonga Galoonga (I'm not saying her real name) is a really good poet. She writes something down, and it's automatically framed, because of its talent.

Here is an example:

APOCOLIPSE

by Goonga Galoonga

When the world ends

So will hunger

For when people

DIE

World peace

STARTS

Nice, huh? I'll admit that it doesn't make sense, but I think it has a powerful meaning if you look closer into it.

WILL HE EVER

by Goonga Galoonga

Like me

Hug me

He will never

Love me

Kiss me

Will he ever?

For the record, Goonga's talking about a certain someone at school. (Cue the love birds!) Just kidding. I think she captures the voice of a teenager in distress because she has no idea if this certain boy likes her. (By the way, I think he does.)

This is the last one I'll say. It's very humorous, and that's why I chose it:

PUNISHMENTS

by Goonga Galoonga

He tried to eat me

I told Mom

I tried to eat him

He told Dad

Does this poem

Have a point?

No, I don't think it does. But it certainly lifts my spirits on some days.

Windy Winter(a poem I wrote in English class)

Chilling wind is everywhere,

In my breath and in my sleigh

And I see one polar bear.

It is not polite to stare,

Yet he does it anyway,

Chilling wind is everywhere

Fur like his is very rare

But most of his fur is gray

And I see one polar bear.

He senses fear in the air,

If it's mine, I cannot say

Chilling wind is everywhere

He comes close, but I don't dare

To arouse from where I lay,

Since I see one polar bear.

Disappears, and doesn't care

If he lost his lunch today

Chilling wind is everywhere

And I see one polar bear.

This is called a villanelle poem. Its second lines rhyme, and the first and third rhyme. The first and third rhymes repeat in the last line of each stanzas, alternating, except for the last stanza. In the last, it has four lines, and therefore has both endings.

A Modern Christmas Carol at Hancock Church

Hancock United Church of Christ, Congregational, Lexington MA
photo by John Phelan
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Hancock_United_Church_of_Christ,_Lexington_MA.jpg)
no copyright infringement intended

The kids from Lexington, MA in a one-time performance of a modern Christmas Carol, at the Hancock Church. My two granddaughters were in the show. You would recognize them. Daria was in the choir, very formally dressed, with white shirt and tie, all that stuff. As for Bianca, she was also in the play: look for the young lady with furry boats. I'm wondering whether May, Bianca's good friend, was not in the play, too. It seem to me that she was, the girl with a very open smile (wait a little: all of them had open smiles, so... okay, one of them).

1/3
(video by bitdribble)

2/3
(video by bitdribble)

3/3
(video by bitdribble)

My Granddaughter Bianca in the School Orchestra

Diamond Junior High School, Lexington, MA
photo by John M. Sullivan
(http://www.panoramio.com/photo/11178557)
no copyright infringement intended

As most of you know, I am the proud grandfather of Bianca and Daria. I will talk today about Bianca. She is a student in the Diamond Junior High School and she plays the viola in the school orchestra. They had a concert and here are 3 videos: Bianca is the second in the second right row.

Mozart, Viennese Sonatina in C Major
Andante and Allegro
arr. by Clifford P. Barnes
(video by bitdribble)

Flop-Eared Mule, Traditional American
arr. Andrew Dabczynski
(video by bitdribble)

One Hand, One Heart from West Side Story, Leonard Bernstein
arr. Robert Longfield
(video by bitdribble)

What Came First, Chapter Two

It's a wonder that I could even sleep last night. But either way, I wake up in bed the next morning. I know that my mom is crying even before I look at her. She always sleeps next to Dad but last night we both agreed that it would be better with another person to comfort you in bed.


I'm not saying I didn't cry. I was up until two o'clock, staring at the ceiling. I remember his last words to me, when I told him, "Good night, see you tomorrow," just before he got into the taxi. He got unusually pale when I said that last part, and now I know why. He just replied "Good night," which isn't what he usually says. Or rather, said.


I have to ask my mother five times how the driver did it before she answers.


"He was texting on his phone," she replies. "And your dad didn't notice." Her voice cracks on that last part, and I know she isn't done crying yet. "He swerved the car into a tree, and they both..." She starts yet again.


"Mom?" I say in a small voice. "Want to come home early?"


She nods while still sobbing into my shoulder.


The early plane is scheduled for tomorrow. I can barely wait to get out of this room. It already reminds me of death. The red polka-dots remind me of blood now.


We eat, take walks, that kind of stuff on the new last day. But it doesn't feel the same without Dad. Last night was probably the worst night of my life. The driver died instantly. Dad had to suffer. And it wasn't even his fault.


How could have he known?


We pack extra fast today. I can't even tell which is which, my underpants or my socks. They're all going in the same place anyway.


I don't even want to ask what we'll do with Dad's luggage.


I guess we just pack up all of his stuff, and drag the extra luggage around.


While cleaning the desk in the room out, I see a piece of paper, a note addressed to me. It says "Jason" in big, curvy, messy handwriting. Dad's handwriting.


I get a horrible feeling in my stomach. Half of me doesn't even want to open it. But I do it anyway, slowly and carefully, like I'm defusing a bomb. My hands shake while holding the note.


Dear Jason,

I know I don't have much time. The taxi driver's going to kill me and himself---


I gasp. How did he know? I keep reading.


---and then I won't be able to tell you what to do. Go out of the room, to the left, and keep on going. This is a forbidden hallway, so don't let anyone see you.

Turn to the right at the end. You'll see an elevator. It'll look out of order, but don't worry, it works just fine. After all, I've used it before.


I bite my lip. I didn't know Mom and Dad have ever been to this hotel before.


It's already set to the right time and place. Only press the green button that says "GO". If you press anywhere else you'll mess it up and it won't work the way it's supposed to. It's crucial that you do only this. And you might want to say bye to your mother before you do this. It'll be a long time before you see her again.

Your dad,
Jason Sr.


I drop the note. My mother is still outside, talking to the hotel staff about the money withdrawal. I said goodbye already, I could go now.


I take a left like the note says, and follow the rest of the instructions to the elevator. This one doesn't look like the others at all. It's only black and white, like a photo in the early 1900's. Instead of normal buttons that write numbers on them, there are five types. The first types range from the negative numbers to three thousands. I'm startled to see that when I touch it, the wall moves. It appears that the numbers go on forever.


On the second wall, there's buttons from one to twelve. On the third, up to thirty one. On the fourth, one to twenty four on one side, and up to fifty nine on the other.


It doesn't take a genius to realize that this is a time machine.


I search for the "GO" button. I find it on the ceiling, right in the middle. I can't reach it, I'd have to jump. So I leap up, and miss. Like a graceful snowflake, I collapse on the ground. In the process, I hit my head on one of the buttons.


Panic seizes me. Which one was it? It seems like I changed the "month" section, but I don't see where. I almost cry out in frustration. Which one was it!?


During my seizure, the elevator starts to move. I feel my eyes widening right out of their sockets. In only five seconds, I feel angry, sad, excited, and faint. It takes a few moments to realize that the button on the ceiling isn't green.


I hit the right button while falling down, on the ground.


I start swearing, getting out all of the bad words I know. No one's here with me, anyway.


It starts shooting up, so fast that my eyes start tearing up. They should really put a seatbelt on this stupid thing, since I don't even have anything to grab on to while I'm airborne.


Finally the elevator jerks to a stop, and I fall to the ground in a daze. It opens, welcoming me into the new world. I scramble to my feet. After I'm out of there(thank God), the elevator closes slowly and curtly, as in saying, Have a nice day!


Of course that's totally believable.

What Came First, Chapter One

Since I am the clumsiest person alive, I trip on the way out of the
taxi. My mom smiles, shaking her head, and helps me back up. "Thanks,"
I mumble.

My dad looks like he's holding back a chuckle. He finally lets loose a
guffaw when he takes a look at my bloody knee. "Will you ever learn
how to stand up on your own two feet, Jase?" he snorts.


I glare at him. Sometimes he can be a pain in the neck. He's just as
clumsy as me, so really it's a tie for first place. "I thought I did
at eighteen months."


We all turn our heads to look at the Colorado hotel. It's called "The
Stars of Five", which is a stupid name, if you ask me. Why? It only
has four stars.


Even though it really is a nice hotel, I have to admit. Its design is
generally yellow with red and/or orange polka-dots. It comes complete
with chandeliers and pictures of bright flowers in every room. If I
didn't know, I'd think it would probably have five stars.


As we head in one of the maids smiles at me. I wait in one of the
couches in the front room. The couch is yellow with orange stripes. I
absentmindedly finger the stripes with my right hand.


After ten minutes I stand up and walk around the room. The still life
paintings remind me of the flowers in my grandmother's garden. The
grandmother on my mom's side, I mean. For all I know, my dad's parents
don't even exist.


"Jason, we're signed in," my mom says loudly so apparently everyone in
the room hears. "Let's find our room."


Our room reminds me of the twentieth century. It looks like it's the
backround for a "Haunted Hotel" movie. I sit down, shaking. All I want
to do is go to sleep. After all, we did drive for two hours from the
airport in Wyoming.


My mother notices, and manages a weak, wavering grin. "You know what,
Jason? How about we go to eat dinner, and then we'll go to bed. Sounds
good?"


"Music to my ears," I say into my pillow.


As we eat dinner at a restaurant called Lake George Pizza. Even though
I'm not hungry, I succeed to take a few small bites of my pizza.


"You know what I want to know?" I say.


My parents wait, expectant.


"Why did we come here, to Colorado?" I ask. "I mean, not that it's bad
or anything. I know Grandma used to live here, but she doesn't
anymore. What's so special about this place? Why can't we go to a
popular attraction town, like New York, or Paris?"


My dad takes an unusually long sip from his Coca Cola. Mom finally starts.


"Well, you know how special this place is for me," she said. "And we
haven't gone in such a while, I thought it would be nice to visit it."


"But we don't even own the house anymore." I push away the pizza. My
stomach's about to burst.


I think my dad looks sad, or angry. Maybe even a twist of both. "So
what? We're here, let's enjoy it." His voice is shaky on the last
sentence.


I stare out of the wooden window, my look fixed on a tree in the
distance. Old, withered. There's a new one right next to the old,
almost looking like it's mocking it. Saying, "You'll never again be as
young as me. You might as well be hit by a car."


Something about their presence annoys me. I quickly turn my head to
glance at my parents. "Okay. I'm done. Let's go."


I'm not able to sleep tonight. Something about this silence scares me.
Dad has went to the library in the streets, and since it's a long way
he's taken a taxi. I remember earlier today, right after we left the
restaurant, my dad kept shaking while staring at the street. I'm not
exactly sure, but I think he was looking at those same two trees.




My dad and I have always been close. He looks almost exactly like me,
except an older, wrinklier version. There are crinkles at the ends of
his smile, the sun reflects on his teeth. If he wasn't so old, I'd
think he was my brother.


He's also the same as me in personality. He likes to joke around, like
me. When he was younger, he messed around with his teachers like I
did. When he tells me about his teachers for the younger grades, he
stops and pauses for a second, as if trying to remember what he was
supposed to say, like he'd waited a long time for this moment. I
always think that's strange, but hey, he's old. Maybe he's just
forgetting.


But the point is, we've always been very close. Even closer than my
mother and I. Which is why I was so shocked when tonight, just when
I've managed to go to sleep, my mother tells me he's died in a car
accident.