Poetry Soup Ep. 10: “Pheasant” by Sylvia Plath Transcript: Hello, and welcome to Poetry Soup! I’m your host, Emma Catherine Hoff. Today I’ll be reading the poem, “Pheasant,” by Sylvia Plath, which is about the subtle beauty of nature. Sylvia Plath was born on October 27, 1932, in Boston, Massachusetts. She published her first poem at the age of eight, in the children’s section of “The Boston Herald.” Shortly after her eighth birthday, her father died. Her famous poem, “Daddy,” is about the experience of losing her father. This event is one of the many things that influences the melancholy feelings of most of her poetry. She kept a journal from the age of 11. Her most famous books are “The Bell Jar,” a novel inspired by her struggles with depression, and her collection of poetry, “The Colossus.” She attended Smith College in Massachusetts where she edited the Smith Review. She graduated with a Bachelor of Arts Degree after submitting her thesis, about two Dostoevsky novels. She married the poet Ted Hughes, and had two children, but the couple split up a few years later. She was awarded the Glascock Poetry Prize, and after her death by suicide on February 11, 1963, she received the Pulitzer Prize in Poetry. “Pheasant” is a poem full of beautiful descriptions, with a unique rhyme scheme that doesn’t stand out right away and is really fun to pinpoint. You said you would kill it this morning. Do not kill it. It startles me still, The jut of that odd, dark head, pacing Through the uncut grass on the elm’s hill. It is something to own a pheasant, Or just to be visited at all. I am not mystical: it isn’t As if I thought it had a spirit. It is simply in its element. That gives it a kingliness, a right. The print of its big foot last winter, The trail-track, on the snow in our court The wonder of it, in that pallor, Through crosshatch of sparrow and starling. Is it its rareness, then? It is rare. But a dozen would be worth having, A hundred, on that hill-green and red, Crossing and recrossing: a fine thing! It is such a good shape, so vivid. It’s a little cornucopia. It unclaps, brown as a leaf, and loud, Settles in the elm, and is easy. It was sunning in the narcissi. I trespass stupidly. Let be, let be. “Pheasant” consists of eight tercets (stanzas with three lines). It turns a pheasant, an ordinary animal that is sometimes seen as a pest, into something regal, both frightening and beautiful. It advises the reader to leave nature alone and not to impose human ideas on it, especially in the powerful last lines, “let, be, let be.” Plath describes the pheasant with vivid words and images. For example, the line, “it’s a little cornucopia” could refer to the tail of the pheasant, which is shaped somewhat like a cornucopia. From the beginning of the poem, Plath begs her audience not to kill the bird, saying that she’s “not mystical,” but there is simply no need to kill the pheasant — it exists, and it deserves to live. Plath also says that she does not love the bird because it is rare — “a dozen would be worth having” — she loves it because it is natural and beautiful. Through the image of the pheasant, she shows the reader that things don’t have to be rare to be marveled at. Referring back to the theme of leaving nature alone, Plath conveys guilt for trespassing on the pheasant while it is “sunning in the narcissi,” which are also known as daffodils. In a way, she admits that to even see the pheasant is to trespass upon it — it doesn’t deserve to be killed or watched in wonder, it should simply be allowed to live its own life. However, it is impossible for Plath to tear her eyes from this regal bird. The rhyme in “Pheasant” is very interesting — there is lots of off-rhyme and an unclear rhyme scheme. There is an interlocking rhyme scheme of tercets, in which the second rhyme of each stanza becomes the first line of the next – “still” and “hill,” “pheasant” and “isn’t.” This is a form called terza rima, which translates from Italian to the “third rhyme.” The rhyme is subtle — I didn’t notice it my first few times reading the poem — and it is natural, performed in a way that doesn’t make it the most important part of the poem, but that makes the poem flow, which is what makes the rhyme so powerful. There are internal rhymes, too, such as “stupidly” and “be,” two words that are in the same line. As well as rhyme, there is plenty of assonance and consonance in “Pheasant.” The end almost has an AAA rhyme scheme — “easy,” “narcissi,” and “be” all rhyme. There are other rhymes in this stanza, too — six rhymes in three lines. Though this rhyme scheme is common, it stands out for different reasons when it’s used. Like the pheasant, the rhyme is both plain and beautiful. You need to look closely to find it, but when you do, it’s really rewarding. Another aspect of this poem is that most of the lines have nine syllables. There are only two exceptions to this: the line, “Is it its rareness, then? It is rare,” has eight syllables, but here the question mark almost serves as a ninth syllable. There is also the last line which has ten syllables, ending the poem in a special way. “Pheasant” does what many people cannot; it acknowledges the normality of something while describing its beauty. I hope you enjoyed this episode of Poetry Soup, and I’ll see you soon with the next one!
Poetry Soup Ep. 9 — “Declaration” by Tracy K. Smith
Ep. 9: “Declaration” by Tracy K. Smith Transcript: Hello, and welcome to Poetry Soup! I’m your host, Emma Catherine Hoff. Today, I’ll be reading and talking about the poem, “Declaration” by Tracy K. Smith. Tracy K. Smith was born on April 16, 1972 in Falmouth, Massachusetts. She was largely inspired to begin writing poetry by the works of Emily Dickinson. Smith attended both Harvard (where she got her Bachelor’s Degree) and Columbia University (where she got her Master of Fine Arts in creative writing). Much of her poetry follows the theme of slavery and early American history. For instance, many of the poems in her collection, “Wade in the Water,” are drawn from historical documents and letters by former slaves. One example of a poem like this is “Declaration.” Tracy K. Smith was United States poet laureate from 2017 to 2019, preceded by Juan Felipe Herrera and followed by Joy Harjo. Smith has published four books of poetry and a memoir titled, “Ordinary Light,” in which she says that she was inspired by Elizabeth Bishop and other poets. Her book of poetry, “Life on Mars,” which I greatly enjoy, is dedicated to her father and his life. He has sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people He has plundered our— ravaged our— destroyed the lives of our— taking away our— abolishing our most valuable— and altering fundamentally the Forms of our— In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. —taken Captive on the high Seas to bear— All of the lines in this poem are drawn in order directly from the Declaration of Independence, hence the title of the poem, “Declaration.” The Declaration of Independence states, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” However, when these lines were written, millions of Black people were enslaved. It was simply ridiculous for the writers of the Declaration, many of them slave owners themselves, to say that they believed men were created equal when they did absolutely nothing to stop the mistreatment of African Americans. So, what Smith does is that she cuts certain sentences off and picks just the right parts of the document to make it a Declaration of Independence for Black people today. The poem begins with what is perhaps the most important word, “he.” In the Declaration of Independence, “he” refers to the King of England, but here Smith makes that “he” refer to the capitalist system and white supremacy. The line, “he has sent hither swarms of officers to harass our people” could indicate the BLM movement and how hundreds of Black people are killed by the police every year in the US. Smith also makes connections between the tyranny of England’s rule during the time that the Declaration of Independence was written and the struggle against racism. When the poem says, “In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms…” it could refer to the Civil Rights Movement, to peaceful protests, to the many marches and speeches against racism. “Taken captive on the high seas to bear —” could be talking about the slave trade and slave ships. In a way, “Declaration” makes fun of the Declaration of Independence. “Declaration” makes use of short lines, many of which are cut off before the sentence ends. Many of these sentences can be finished by the reader — for example, “he has destroyed the lives of our —” could be “he has destroyed the lives of our people.” Of course, what’s interesting about using line breaks this way is that there are multiple words to end this phrase besides “people.” The last lines, “taken captive on the high seas to bear —” can also be finished. From the very beginning, slaves were brought to the United States and to many other countries to bear years of oppression. Years of mistreatment. Years of unfairness. Years of having their rights taken from them. And years of torture. This is a cool technique to use if you want to write a poem, because it allows the reader to imagine what the author means. So it’s almost like the poet writes half of the poem, but the reader writes the other, not only interpreting what the poem as a whole means, but also finishing the sentences. This is a style that I find really interesting. Maybe “Declaration” will inspire you to speak out about issues you care about. I hope you enjoyed this episode of Poetry Soup, and I’ll see you soon with the next one!
Poetry Soup Ep. 8 – “On Not Mowing the Lawn” by Mary Oliver
Ep. 8: “On Not Mowing the Lawn” by Mary Oliver Transcript: Hello, and welcome to Poetry Soup! I’m your host, Emma Catherine Hoff. Today, I’ll be reading and talking about a poem by the great poet Mary Oliver, titled, “On Not Mowing the Lawn.” Mary Oliver was born on September 10, 1935, in Maple Heights, Ohio. Much of her poetry, including “On Not Mowing the Lawn,” describes her relationship with nature. She had felt a strong connection to nature from a young age. She had a hard childhood and escaped into writing for relief from it. Oliver went to both Ohio State University and Vassar College, but did not get a degree from either place. She published many books, including “Blue Horses,” published in 2014, in which the poem, “On Not Mowing the Lawn,” appears. She won the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize. Oliver said that some of her favorite poets (among others) were Walt Whitman, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Percy Bysshe Shelley. Actually, there is a reference to Walt Whitman in “On Not Mowing the Lawn.” Oliver does what many poets do, but in her own way. She pays attention to details. For Oliver, these details are usually found in the natural world — in the looks of animals, the tastes of berries, and flowers blooming. Oliver takes a similar approach in the poem I’ll read today. Let the grass spring up tall, let its roots sing and the seeds begin their scattering. Let the weeds rejoin and be prolific throughout. Let the noise of the mower be banished, hurrah! Let the path become where I choose to walk, and not otherwise established. Let the goldfinches be furnished their humble dinner. Let the sparrows determine their homes in security. Let the honeysuckle reach as high as my window, that it may look in. Let the mice fill the barns and bins with a sufficiency. Let anything created, that wants to creep or leap forward, be able to do so. Let the grasshopper have gliding space. Let the noise of the mower be banished, yes, yes. Let the katydid return and announce himself in the long evenings. Let the blades of grass surge back from the last cutting. Or, if you want to be poetic: the leaves of grass. If you try to find “On Not Mowing the Lawn” on the internet, or at least the version that I just read, you won’t be able to. So many of Oliver’s poems have grass and lawns and nature involved in them that you can keep scrolling and never find the poem you were looking for. But that, in a way, is what books are made for. To be held, and for their pages to be turned, and for their satisfying smell to be sucked in through your nostrils. Books give people thrills, no matter what author, genre, or subject. For Oliver, nature does this too. She expresses some of this in not mowing the lawn, practically singing about grass and its wonders — “let the grass spring up tall, let its roots sing/and the seeds begin their scattering.” At the same time, the poem is also an excuse in verse, or simply a way to procrastinate such a tedious chore as mowing the lawn. The poem is at once an ode to letting nature run its course, to letting plants and animals live without human interference, but it is also an extremely detailed and therefore “intellectual” way of getting out of something she doesn’t want to do. It is a way to make more time for her to simply lie on the grass, admiring it and writing more poems about it for people to enjoy. “On Not Mowing the Lawn,” exaggerates the concept of allowing all living things to have free will. She describes mice scurrying around in barns uninterrupted, grasshoppers clearing space for themselves, and katydids coming to sing as loudly as they want. Oliver writes, “let anything created, that wants to creep or leap forward, be able to do so.” She speaks of banishing the lawn mower as a way to do this, as a way to let nature become wild, as it truly should be. “On Not Mowing the Lawn,” is a poem full of imagery, allowing you to see everything that Oliver describes and to place yourself in that peaceful circle of nature. Something I found interesting in this poem was the last line. Oliver writes, “Or, if you want to be poetic: the leaves of grass.” As I said earlier, one of Oliver’s favorite poets was Walt Whitman, and “leaves of grass” is the title of his one and only collection of poems. In a way, this line is a homage to Whitman. This part of Oliver’s poem is funny, because, even though “On Not Mowing the Lawn” is a poem, she says, “if you want to be poetic.” This also makes me think about ideas or words that are “poetic,” versus ideas and words that aren’t. Really, there is no such thing. Oliver happens to use simple words and images in her poetry, and other poets might not, but if a poem is good, it will convey a powerful idea in a way that leaves you feeling something. “On Not Mowing the Lawn,” is a poem that offers insight on both nature and letting it run wild and also on how to get out of doing a chore. I hope you enjoyed this episode of Poetry Soup, and I’ll see you with the next one!
