Black Brilliance

Audre Lorde’s “Coal” is a perfect metaphor for the beauty and pride of African-Americans and the Black Arts Movement. This is (again) my favorite type of poem, wherein the title word is not mentioned at all in the poem, but immediately sets it off in a particular direction. By simply using the title “Coal,” Lorde uses one of earth’s most precious resources, and its “blackness,” as an evolving metaphor for the brilliance and creativity of African-Americans.

In the first stanza, the coal, or blackness, is “…spoken / from the earth’s inside” and, once out into the open and put through flame, “becomes” a diamond. Diamonds then become the new metaphor throughout the poem. This expression of something so naturally black that becomes perfectly clear yet infinitely “colored” is pure genius.

Diamonds then become words, which is the metaphor that fills the second stanza. Words can either sing out easily, or they come at a cost. This is illustrated by another brilliant metaphor, whereby Lorde describes the words as “stapled wagers / in a perforated book – buy and sign and tear apart- / …an ill-pulled tooth with a ragged edge.” Words get stuck in the poet’s throat, but then they can escape, or “explode through my lips / like young sparrows bursting from shell.” With this, the poem is literally layered with metaphors that describe the poet’s process of expression. Her colorful words and sounds are finally out in the open, but this requires a rigorous process, just like the creation of diamonds from coal deep inside the earth.

In the third and final stanza, “Love is a word.” The coal has evolved from blackness to diamonds to words to love. Lorde proudly exclaims that “I am Black because I come from the earth’s inside / now take my word for jewel in the open light.” This ending of brightness and purity is a metaphor for the positive worth of the poet’s creation. She and her poems are an expensive perfection.

A Matter of Influence

The five poets from this week each have very distinct voices. They aren’t necessarily easy to label, but there is a distinct aura and personality that is present in each one: Robert Frost and his love affair with nature, Carl Sandburg and his brash in-your-face power, e.e. cummings and his instantly recognizable thumbnosing of convention, Dylan Thomas and his intense passion, and the ever-wickedly intelligent and so ahead of her time, Ms. Millay.

Despite this individual distinctiveness, it is inevitable that other poets played a role in influencing their poetry. Without doing major research on their professed influences or knowing who truly cared for whom in the world of poetry, I will look at who they seem to have been influenced by, or with whom they possess similarities.

A poet that wasn’t part of our discussions per se was Carl Sandburg. I particularly enjoyed the two poems of his, for their strength and clarity. In these I see a nod to Walt Whitman, in the “free verse” style that Whitman seemed to bless as an acceptable form. Here Sandburg does it in similar style in terms of free verse (no rhyme or meter) and lengthy lines. There are even repetitions and rhymes at the beginnings of lines, as I noticed in Whitman. This is seen in Sandburg’s “Chicago,” (“Laughing….Bragging….laughing,” begin lines 20, 22, 24, 25). This same style is found in Sandburg’s “Grass” where several lines begin the same, with either “Pile,” “Shovel,” or “And pile.” There is a sense of survival among violence in these two poems, which may or not be similar to Whitman’s, but there is definitely a raw energy that parallels Whitman’s urges.

An obvious similarity discussed this week was that between Gertrude Stein, Dylan Thomas, and e.e. Cummings. Their experimentation with language puts them in familiar company, regardless of other differences. (I must admit that I find Thomas’ and Cummings’ poems to be clearer than Stein’s “Meditations” poem which personally read like rambling to me. Thomas’ and Cummings’ poems seem more focused and purposeful, in that the words form more complete images, despite the odd syntax. For instance, in Stein’s poem I did not get “the point” because I couldn’t capture her thoughts (which I assume is part of the point). But with Cummings’ “anyone lived in a pretty how town,” I feel there is an actual theme presented). I see Stein as a possible influence on these two simply because of their ages and the times in which they lived (she was 20 years older then Cummings and 40 years older than Thomas). Her freedom of expression seems to have unlocked a few doors -- perhaps for these two who enjoyed breaking through the limits of convention.

I would love to say that Edna St. Vincent Millay was influenced by Emily Dickinson, and perhaps she was, but I see a power and primal urge in Millay’s poetry that also reminds me of Whitman. I have read her biography and of course find her utterly fascinating, and I’m aware of her, shall we say, prowess. Her unapologetic attitude of sexual matters in "[I, Being born a Woman and Distressed]" is very similar to Whitman’s “Song of Myself.” For a female poet to write in her voice in the year 1923 was pure chutzpah, which she and Whitman had in spades. I’d be willing to bet that his breakthrough “Leaves of Grass” made an impression on her, in some form.

Until trying to determine a few influences here I hadn’t placed the scope of Whitman’s breakthrough in the world of poetry, but it is quite clear. He laid the groundwork for a freedom in writing that takes many forms.

Waving Adieu, Adieu, Adieu

Another week, another chance to fall completely under the spell of a different poet. There were so many wonderful poems this week, but I particularly enjoyed Wallace Stevens, and specifically his “Waving Adieu, Adieu, Adieu.” Reading the words themselves cause me to choke up each time, for obvious reasons of memories of farewells. But besides that, the flow and sounds of the words are almost mesmerizing, with the similar sounds and word repetitions. This is the first poem I’ve noticed in the course that truly incorporates internal rhyme and rhythm without end rhymes, so it particularly caught my ear. So here I will focus on the poetic elements of language and sound/rhythm to discuss the poem.

It is interesting to note that Stevens does not use a rhyme scheme at the ends of the lines, but he uses internal rhymes throughout, to give it a feel of musical flow without sing-songy rhymes. With just the first two lines of the poem you see the pattern emerge: “That would be waving and that would be crying / Crying and shouting and meaning farewell.” This internal rhyme and repetition indicates the sureness or finality of the scenario, that there is a certainty here. In fact, in the entire poem of 20 lines, the word farewell is stated 7 times. This word choice and repetition cannot help but reveal the meaning of the poem, and that is, for me, saying final goodbyes.

The internal rhymes continue, in line 6 for example, in speaking of these farewells in a “world without heaven to follow” as “stops,” that they “Would be endings, more poignant that partings, profounder.”

The third stanza uses consonance (if I am using the term correctly), to a large degree, and mirrors the “l” sound of the word “farewell” in several words: singular, self, yielded, little (repeated 3 times), and jubilant. This same sound continues in the fourth stanza with sleep, lie, still, beheld, and of course farewell, twice.

All in all this is a gorgeous poem. It is most definitely musical, in a beautiful and melancholy way. For some peculiar reason, I particularly love when a poem has a stirring title such as this, but the poet chooses not to restate the title directly anwhere in the poem. The title itself plays an important role in the overall meaning and mood of this one, but Stevens doesn’t deem it necessary to restate it verbatim anywhere. In fact, the word "adieu" doesn't appear anywhere in the poem. However, this title is crucial, and in fact sets up the repetition that will occur in the poem, which helps signify a finality, a closure, a certainty. Adieu, adieu, adieu. Farewell.

No Fear of Flying (Or, The Millers Foresee Their Fate)

This study looks at two poems written just after “The Great War,” a time of high emotion and economic change. William Butler Yeats’ “An Irish Airman Foresees His Death,” written in 1919, is a monologue spoken by a WWI lone fighter pilot, determined to face his death in the skies. Edward Arlington Robinson’s “The Mill,” written in 1920, is a third-person narrative which follows the fate of a miller and his wife, whose livelihood has been destroyed by the new industrial economy. By the end of the poem, both spouses have committed suicide. Or have they? Robinson in particular uses effective language techniques to give the reader more than just the surface words to analyze.

Each poet weaves various poetic elements to heighten their texts’ meanings, including similar themes, intense language and rich imagery, and identical rhyme scheme and meter. Both poems easily draw the reader in from beginning to end. Despite the similarities, there are easily some distinctions. In “The Mill,” for instance, some evidence suggests that Robinson cleverly uses sentence structure and punctuation to cause the reader to rethink his conclusions, only to feel compelled to read the poem again, then again.

The similar themes offer a basis of comparison and help establish the meanings of each poem. Yeats and Robinson each employ nameless characters that feel death at their doorstep, but from there the themes diverge. In “The Mill,” the reader senses a greater depth of tragedy as the miller and his wife lose their livelihood against their will, at the hands of the economy. In contrast, Yeats’ speaker in “Irish Airman” fully accepts his fate as a fighter pilot, without any sense that his inevitable demise is at the hands of some outside force. His is a sense of destiny without regret: his death will occur while flying passionately through the clouds, not because of some occupational failure. With these parallel themes of how the characters view their fates, each poet offers the meanings underlying the poems. The airman chooses his fate. The millers, however, are not so lucky. This difference in perspective allows the reader to feel more empathy for the miller and his wife, and their unfortunate circumstances.

While both poems are filled with intense language, Robinson uses it in an unusually effective way. The key strength in “The Mill” lies in Robinson’s ability to say something critical in the poem without saying it directly. His choice of third-person narration is particularly important in this respect because he can manipulate language without quoting the speaker(s) directly in nearly every line of the poem. It is worth noting how he weaves this wordplay throughout the text.

The images in “The Mill” help advance the meaning in the poem more effectively than in Yeats’ “Airman.” This is primarily due to the number of stanzas in each, and how each stanza functions as a separate scene. The first stanza in “The Mill” introduces the miller’s wife, whose “thoughts” narrate the action. She has waited long for her husband’s return, next to a dead fire in their living room. The tragic theme of loss and resignation is firmly established in line five, in which she recalls her husband lingering at the door and stating to her simply, “There are no millers anymore.” This line is critical. It is the one and only direct quote from either of the characters in the poem. With this one line, Robinson puts the reader directly into the mind of the defeated miller, whose hopelessness underlies the crux of the poem and sets the rest of the images in motion.

Robinson’s effective technique of stating things indirectly becomes clear in the second and third stanzas. At the start of the second, upon thinking of her husband’s comment, the wife is “Sick with a fear that had no form” (9). She then “follows” the miller to the mill, in hopes of finding him. Instead, “…what was hanging from a beam / Would not have heeded where she went” (15-16). The inference here is that, with the stanza’s scene set in the mill, and no other character or object besides the miller having been introduced, what is hanging from the beam is the miller himself. The image is created for the reader without the literal words. His clever word choices continue in the third and final stanza, which leaves the reader with a haunting vision. Here, the focus is on the wife, after seeing her dead husband. “Where she went” as she “reasoned in the dark” (18), is someplace that “Would hide her and leave no mark” (20). By this, she wishes to be gone, without a trace. In the final lines of the poem, she sets off to the milldam next to the mill and sees the

Black water, smooth above the weir
Like starry velvet in the night,
Though ruffled once, would soon appear
The same as ever to the sight. (21-24)

Without being stated explicitly, the poem’s carefully chosen words indicate the wife takes her life in the milldam waters. The reader, in Robinson’s skilled hands, is an eyewitness to a double suicide.

The language and imagery are used to different effects in Yeats’ poem, primarily because the emotional distance is greater in “Airman” than in “The Mill.” The airman claims that “Those that I fight I do not hate / Those that I guard I do not love” (3-4). With this the reader quickly senses that there will not be much emotional rapport with the speaker, who is emotionally disconnected from others. The airman addresses only himself in the monologue. Yeats’ language is direct, with simple statements made by the pilot to express his existential outlook. There is no “hidden” language, as in “The Mill.” Yeats’ first-person speaker technique is effective, however, and he uses it to full advantage. It allows the reader to hear the speaker through the speaker’s own words throughout the entire poem (unlike the third-person narrative technique in “The Mill”). Granted, here, the emotion is between the airman and himself. The reader doesn’t experience the same fear and despair that we feel for the miller and his wife.

The intense language is clear and commanding in Yeats’ poem, but there is not the contextual layer of unspoken words that the reader gains in Robinson’s. Here, the airman describes his reason for flying:

Nor law, nor duty bade me fight
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds. (9-12)

This lack of connection with anyone other than himself is Yeats’ point: the pilot’s death will be caused by him alone. The poem is written in one stanza, as if one running thought of the pilot. The pilot’s resolute words are laid out before us, with no ambiguity or uncertainties.

The imagery is effective but not as extensive or necessary in Yeats’ poem, as it focuses on the pilot’s thoughts, not on tangible settings or particular scenes for the reader to follow. A clear declaration of the pilot’s mindset opens the poem: “I know that I shall meet my fate / Somewhere among the clouds above” (1-2). There is a lack of self-pity in his realization, unlike the miller’s sad quote in “The Mill.” The pilot states his existential claim in the poem’s last four lines:

I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death. (13-16)

This sums up the speaker’s philosophy without needing to set a particular scene for the reader. We can simply imagine him in flight, at peace when the moment of death finally arrives. The image of the pilot possibly ascending to “the clouds above” at the outset of the poem allows the reader to imagine the airman on his last flight, as we hear his last words. This is powerful imagery in and of itself, but the reader isn’t given any particular change in scenery.

The poetic elements of sound and rhythm play a role in each poem, but a particularly strong one in “The Mill” due to the unfolding events. Both poems are written in the same rhythm, iambic tetrameter. This consists of 8 syllables, one unstressed followed by one stressed, which helps the reader move carefully through each line. This is especially effective in “The Mill” because the reader is curious about what is going to happen next, as we follow the miller’s wife from stanza to stanza. In “Airman” the poem is written as one stanza, or scene. The rhythm moves musically from line to line, but not to any particular “destination.” The reader simply experiences the thoughts of the airman alongside him, without needing to “go somewhere.”

Finally, sentence structure and punctuation provide a vital key to interpretation of “The Mill.” Obviously both poems use these elements, but upon close examination there appears to be more than one way to interpret Robinson’s poem. It can be argued that if you break the poem down by each word and punctuation mark, there is yet another underlying layer that Robinson reveals, again without laying it out directly for the reader. In her 1993 essay on the poem, poet and teacher Glorianna Locklear (Highbeam) proposes that, given that Robinson “works in layers of ambiguity…the..evidence …rests largely on [his] subtle handling of verb tenses, sentence structure, and punctuation” (Locklear). Her extensive argument on these elements makes for fascinating reading for those willing to do a fine-grain analysis on Robinson’s true intent. The crux of her analysis is that based on these elements of the poem, the careful reader will deduce that all of the action after the miller’s quote occurs in the wife’s mind. Locklear's proof includes Robinson's use of various conditional clauses, such as “And there might yet be” (3), as well as speculative memory, as in “And he lingered at the door / So long that it seemed yesterday” (7-8). In this study, these speculative comments show no indication that the wife has gotten up from her chair by the fire.

Locklear also notes that throughout the poem, “the verbs are all conditional,” as in “She may have reasoned” (18) and “water would soon appear” (23)”. Further, she points out that the final stanza begins with “And if,” which “cast[s] the entire stanza into the speculative mode” (Locklear). The semi-colons also allow for dependency on all of these speculative clauses, as in the second one that appears in the poem: “She knew that she was there at last; / And in the mill there was a warm / And mealy fragrance of the past” (10-12). For Locklear, this semi-colon indicates that what follows is merely the product of the wife’s “fear that had no form” (9) from the previous line; that the following scenes are simply imagined (Locklear).

Yeats’ “Irish Airman” obviously uses sentence structure and punctuation, including semi-colons, but there are no conditional clauses in the poem that suggest ambiguities of thought or interpretation. There is a simplicity of language and structure that moves the reader along, but as a distant observer to a death that will occur, someday. In this respect, the pilot feels about his death much as the reader does; it is expected and not worth being troubled over.

In the end, both poems are written with language and rhythmic elements that feel right for each. Obviously Yeats and Robinson were both poetic masters that knew what they were trying to express with each poem. For the reader, it is a matter of preference. Do you want your poem straight up, or with a twist? Both are here in fine form. No-nonsense language from Yeats, and an expertly woven reminder from Robinson that lurking beneath some poems are unspoken worlds, waiting to be uncovered.


WORKS CITED

Ferguson, Margaret, Mary Jo Salter, and Jon Stallworthy, eds. The Norton Anthology of Poetry. 5th ed. New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 2005.

Locklear, Glorianna. “Robinson’s ‘The Mill.’” The Explicator 51.3 (Spring 1993). 27 Sept. 2007 http://www.english.uiuc.edu/maps/poets/m_r/robinson/mill.htm.

Robinson, Edward Arlington. “The Mill.” Ferguson, Salter, and Stallworthy 1214-1215.

Yeats, William Butler. “The Irish Airman Foresees His Death.” Ferguson, Salter, and Stallworthy 1193.



WORK CONSULTED
Highbeam Research. “Locklear, Glorianna”. 27 Sept. 2007 http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1G1-134176124.html