Amiri Baraka "Numbers, Letters" and June Jordan "Poem About My Rights"

When reading these two poems, I couldn't help drawing a comparison between the two.  In "Numbers, Letters" Baraka is asserting his identity as a black man.  Whereas in "Poem About My Rights" Jordan is asserting her identity as a black woman.  Both poems deal essentially deal with the same theme.  They are about finding who you are in a world that refuses to accept who you are.  And asserting your rights in a world where your rights are not recognized.  

The sad reality is that Baraka and Jordan wrote these poems twenty years apart.  And yet they both deal with an entire race being denied their individuality and their freedoms.  You can tell that Baraka was feeling the same things that Jordan was feeling (although her poem focuses on women's rights).  Both of these poems evolved out of frustration.  Baraka was frustrated that people would not recognize the history of his people and his ancestry.  He was proud of who he was and where he came from, yet others were blind to his heritage.  Jordan was frustrated that she, as a black woman, was not allowed to own her own body.  Her poem deals with rape and the violation of the human body.  She asserts in this poem that she is not allowed ownership over her own body because "[...] I am the wrong / sex the wrong age the wrong skin [...]" (8-9). Twenty years apart, Baraka and Jordan wrote about their frustrations and the injustices that were being committed against them.  How sad is it that after all of the struggle and the endless fighting, these things were still occurring.

Ryan Adams - Sylvia Plath

Here's a video of Ryan Adams singing Sylvia Plath, in case anyone's interested in actually hearing it rather than just reading the lyrics.

Sylvia Plath "Lady Lazarus"

"Sylvia Plath"

I wish I had a Sylvia Plath 
Busted tooth and a smile 
And cigarette ashes in her drink 
The kind that goes out and then sleeps for a week 
The kind that goes out on her 
To give me a reason, for well, I dunno 

And maybe she'd take me to France 
Or maybe to Spain and she'd ask me to dance 
In a mansion on the top of a hill 
She'd ash on the carpets 
And slip me a pill 
Then she'd get pretty loaded on gin 
And maybe she'd give me a bath 
How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath 

And she and I would sleep on a boat 
And swim in the sea without clothes 
With rain falling fast on the sea 
While she was swimming away, she'd be winking at me 
Telling me it would all be okay 
Out on the horizon and fading away 
And I'd swim to the boat and I'd laugh 
I gotta get me a Sylvia Plath 

And maybe she'd take me to France 
Or maybe to Spain and she'd ask me to dance 
In a mansion on the top of a hill 
She'd ash on the carpets 
And slip me a pill 
Then she'd get pretty loaded on gin 
And maybe she'd give me a bath 
How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath 
I wish I had a Sylvia Plath

-Ryan Adams

Ryan Adams is my favorite musician, he's also very Sylvia Plath-like in his own right.  This just happens to be one of my favorite songs by him, and I couldn't help but think of it when I read "Lady Lazarus" by Sylvia Plath.  The song itself is very haunting, yet there is a sense of joy permeating throughout the song as well.  Perhaps it's because Ryan sees the connection between himself and Sylvia Plath, both are artists who face/faced internal struggles with themselves and external struggles with society.  The sense of joy in this song relates to the sense of joy in Plath's "Lady Lazarus".

Although the poem deals with some very dark subject matter, mainly Plath's constant struggle between life and death, the overall sense the reader is left with is one of joy.  Plath writes of taking herself to the brink of death over and over again, only to experience life more fully with each return.  She writes of how each attempt brings her closer to having a sense of herself, how she is reborn each time she "dies".  In the most haunting lines of the poem Plath writes, "Dying/Is an art, like everything else./I do it exceptionally well./I do it so it feels like hell./I do it so it feels real./I guess you could say I've a call." (Lines 43-48).  How sad one's life must be that in order to find happiness in life they have to experience the cold reality of death?

Much like the Lazarus of the Bible, Plath as been resurrected into life.  She has been given the chance to live and experience again, an opportunity she seems to appreciate by the end of the poem.  There is also an allusion to the rising of the phoenix in the poem (Lines 82-84 "Out of the ash/I rise with my red hair/And I eat men like air.").  Perhaps Plath thought herself to be immune to the effects of both life and death.  Maybe she thought that she could keep taking herself to the edge with little consequence, however, we all know this did not turn out to be the case.  Plath committed suicide in 1963.  Although some, perhaps readers of "Lady Lazarus", believe that this attempt was not meant to be successful.  Sadly, it was and Plath would not experience the rebirth that she had in the past.

 

Ralph Ellison "A Party Down at the Square"

I chose the Ralph Ellison section because I really enjoy his writing style.  He writes in such a vivid and uninhibited way that his writings have this gut wrenching quality.  No other scene from literature has stuck with me the way some of the scenes from Invisible Man have stuck with me.  I read this novel about five years ago and I can still remember the way I felt when reading about the underground fight the narrator is brought to by a group of white men.  The way that Ellison is able to transport the reader to a specific place and time and make them actually feel an emotional reaction to the situation is what makes him a great writer.

I was reminded of Ellison's gift for imagery when I read "A Party Down at the Square".  The way Ellison so vividly describes what is being done to this man is hauntingly beautiful.  While reading this short story, you can actually feel the heat of the flames and see the red glistening blood on the victim's black skin.  I don't mean to glorify the act that Ellison is portraying, for it actually sickened me to think that this has actually happened in the past.  Rather, what I mean to emphasize is Ellison's amazing talent.  For just by using words he has painted this vivid scene for the reader, so vivid in fact that it makes one almost sick to read it.  We have been transported through his writing and are now able to use all five of our senses to understand the scene that he is creating.

Clifford Odets "Waiting for Lefty"

Upon reading the title of Odets play, I couldn't help but draw a similarity between this play and Samuel Beckett's "Waiting for Godot".  Although Odets play was written in 1935 and Beckett's was written in 1948, one cannot ignore the similarities between the two poems.  Despite the fact that Odets play offer itself up to a more literal interpretation and Beckett's takes a more absurdist/existentialist approach, both plays deal with essential the same theme.

One obvious similarity is the title.  In both titles, it is clear that the characters in the play will be "waiting" for someone (duh).  From the beginning of both plays, the viewer can tell that there is a greater purpose to this waiting.  In "Waiting for Lefty" there are several frustrated and underpaid workers waiting for "Lefty", a man who has the ability to lead a workers strike.  In "Waiting for Godot" there are two clueless characters, Vladimir and Estragon, who are waiting for "Godot", an person who they are willing to wait forever for.  The characters in both of these plays believe that the arrival of this person or entity will severely improve their condition.  The characters in Odets play believe that Lefty has the skill to lead them in an effective strike, whereas the characters in Beckett's play believe that Godot will fill some void in their lives.  The characters in both plays believe that they can do nothing in the absence of this missing character, for they don't have the power to accomplish things on their own.

At the end of "Waiting for Lefty" we discover that Lefty has been shot and killed.  Lefty's death inspires the work to begin the strike that they had been putting off until his arrival.  Perhaps the characters in the play have gained more from Lefty's absence than his presence.  Upon discovering that Lefty was dead, the workers banned together to start the strike that they had only talked about before.  Instead of depending upon Lefty's leadership, they were forced to rely upon their own passion and knowledge.

At the end of "Waiting for Godot", Vladimir and Estragon agree to continue waiting for Godot to arrive, even though the audience is aware that Godot is either never coming or does not exist.  The absurdity of Beckett's play highlights the absurdity of the human condition.  Rather than relying on ourselves, we rely on the greatness of others to inspire us and fill a void in our lives.  

Hence both plays end with the same overall theme, don't sit around waiting for someone else to lead or inspire you, for no one is able to lead or inspire you better than yourself.

Claude McKay "A Red Flower"

When I think of Claude McKay's poetry, I immediately think of his empowering protest poem "If We Must Die".  However, after reading "A Red Flower" I discovered that McKay's poetry is not defined by that protest poem.  While the majority of his poetry deals with him being an African American in a society that practiced segregation, his poetry did cover more universal themes as well.  

In "A Red Flower", McKay talks about a woman that his is obviously overwhelmingly in love with.  The words he uses to describe this woman lead the reader to believe that she is some sort of ethereal goddess, a strong and beautiful woman with the ability to capture any man's heart.  In my favorite lines of this poem (it was hard to pick just a few) McKay writes, "Your lips betray the secret of your soul,/The dark delicious essence that is you".  McKay's words convey a sense of respect and reverence for this woman's beauty and power.  She is not being objectified, rather she is being respected and cherished.

What strikes me most about this poem is McKay's ability to manipulate language in such a way that it makes the reader feel the emotions of the speaker of the poem.  I know all poetry is written with this intention, but let's face it, a lot of poets miss the mark.  Some poets become to obsessed with imagery or breaking down the conventions of grammar, that the meaning and emotion becomes lost.  However, in this poem McKay is using imagery and language in a way that enhances the feelings he wishes to convey.  He is speaking to the heart and soul of the individual in a way that anyone can understand.   

e.e. cummings [what if a much of a which of a wind]

In 10th grade we had to do a critical research paper and I was assigned this poem.  At first, I wasn't really excited to do the paper at all because well, frankly, I hated poetry.  In my opinion, people that could write 20 lines about the beauty of a flower should have been certified insane, not praised as a literary genius.  So when I was assigned to read e.e. cummings "what if a much of a which of a wind" I thought "Great, I have to write a 10 page paper on some poem written by this freak who doesn't even capitalize his own name."  However, after I read the poem a few times and researched about e.e. cumming's life, I fell in love.

To me, e.e. cummings is like the Sid Vicious of poetry.  I like to imagine him walking around in the 1930's smoking cigarettes and popping up the collar on his leather jacket.  Although I'm sure this wasn't the case, and that he never murdered his psychopathic girlfriend in the midst of a drug fueled rage, I still like to think of him as having the same punk rock attitude later embodied by Sid Vicious.  He was punk rock before punk rock even existed.

So I was in love with e.e. cummings, but that didn't mean I understood his poem anymore.  After researching what critics had written about it, I came to realize that they didn't really know either.  I was left to fend for myself and rely on my own intellect, in short, I was screwed.

I don't remember what I finally came up with, as that was many moons ago and I tend to block out such stressful situations from my memory.  However, revisiting the poem many years later, I don't know why I had such a problem.  The explosive language cummings uses in this poem leads you directly to its meaning.  Its about the destruction of the world, the eventually end of humanity brought upon by man himself.  Some might argue that it's about the third World War that cummings (and others) believed would eventually come.  

The lines that always stick with me after I read this poem are lines 17-20, "what if a dawn of a doom of a dream/bites this universe in two,/peels forever out of his grave/and sprinkles nowhere with me and you?".  Those lines are both beautiful and utterly depressing at the same time.  Beautiful because of the way they are written, the power of the words that cummings is choosing.  Yet utterly depressing because of the truth in that statement.  The way technology is progressing, and the way we are choosing to deal with our conflicts, makes me believe that cummings words may eventually become our reality.