Niyala+Brownlee

"If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know it is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know this is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?" - Emily Dickinson

"Poetry is as precise a thing as geometry" - Gustave Flaubert


 * Sonnet**

You're more dull than a windless summers day, where all the chidren stay refreshed inside, cause schorching weather doesnt permit play. Yet you're as cold as the frostiest tide, arises in air as winter abides. I am Falls season with spring and Autumn. No pleasent chills loke the season implies. Not favored but all the flowers blosomn. You are a frozen creak in summers peak. Not unusually weird but still rare. But I am plainly normal and real bleak. My cover is sure un-uniquely bare. You go full on against all the systems, While I say one of the systems victims.

Fragile enough that it can shatter with a pinch but if it's built and cared for correctly, then it can last an eternity, so strong that not even lava could melt it. It's ugly but beautiful all in the same. It may get to be a tiresome burden, but its contradictory towards itself because even if your hands get bloodied and pieces of you start falling, you will not let go because It's a burden that you will give your life for to keep. Everyone wants it. People sometimes ignorantly yearn for it. Some people will live their whole lives to search for it, but they will never find it. Some call it hatred, others call it loathing. Call it what you would like, but I like to call it love.
 * Ode**


 * Author statement**

My poems never have a single meaning and they are not always easy to interpret. More often than not, I try to use 'big words'. When I say 'big words' I mean words that are not often used in ones daily vocabulary. While choosing the structure of my poem, I have the tendency to change it until I am a bit satisfied. And when I am satisfied everything is a but abstract.

__**Mary Oliver**__

//By Mary Oliver//
 * August**

When the blackberries hang swollen in the woods, in the brambles nobody owns, I spend

all day among the high branches, reaching my ripped arms, thinking

of nothing, cramming the black honey of summer into my mouth; all day my body

accepts what it is. In the dark creeks that run by there is this thick paw of my life darting among

the black bells, the leaves; there is this happy tongue.

The poem gives us a vision of a person ( supposed child) on a blackberry tree stuffing their face with blackberries in the middle of summer. So it draws the reader to the conclusion that he author is just telling them what she used to do as a child ( or still does now). But then it says "this thick paw of my life darting around black bells then leaves; there in this happy tongue." Which give the reader another assumption that the author is writing in the perspective of a bear rather than a human. There is a casual tone and no sign of formal language, throughout the poem.
 * Anaylysis**

//By Mary Oliver//
 * The Journey**

One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice— though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. “Mend my life!” each voice cried. But you didn’t stop. You knew what you had to do, though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations, though their melancholy was terrible. It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones. But little by little, as you left their voices behind, the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do— determined to save the only life you could save.

The poem uses an ambliveient tone as it demands the reader to picture the sccen that thaey are being thrown into as if it was their own past. The poems structure m akes it though it only has one stanze in total teling the story in one quick scene. The reader is thrown back in time showing an urgent situation. Sentences such has " You felt a tug at your ankles" and even " The voices around you kept shouting their bad advice", helpp the reader to envision the images and sounds in the scene. Even thoug the poem only has one stanza, it has many different punctuations such as commas to allow th reader to pause for a second, and also dashes tointroduce anothr idea.
 * Analysis**

//By Mary Oliver// Last night
 * White Flowers**

in the fields

I lay down in the darkness

to think about death,

but instead I fell asleep,

as if in a vast and sloping room

filled with those white flowers

that open all summer,

sticky and untidy,

in the warm fields.

When I woke

the morning light was just slipping

in front of the stars,

and I was covered

with blossoms.

I don’t know

how it happened—

I don’t know

if my body went diving down

under the sugary vines

in some sleep-sharpened affinity

with the depths, or whether

that green energy

rose like a wave

and curled over me, claiming me

in its husky arms.

I pushed them away, but I didn’t rise.

Never in my life had I felt so plush,

or so slippery,

or so resplendently empty.

Never in my life

had I felt myself so near

that porous line

where my own body was done with

and the roots and the stems and the flowers

began.


 * The analysis**

The poem gives you a couple of images like a motion picture. Even though it has many scenes the place never changes, just the appearance of the place does. (An example is,) " at night in the fields" this gives you the image of a peg going in the fields at night time. The **n** it gives you an image of a a "vast room filled with flowers, with an atmosphere of summer. "as if the vast sloping room filled with white flowers" Each line of the poem creates anew stanza making 36 stanzas in all. Though each line is not a new sentence making almost every line contain an enjambment. Each punctuation makes the reader emit a pause. Each period brings in a new idea and/or image may it be flowers " filled with those white flowers" or the writers thoughts " I don't know how it happened… never in my life have I felt so new the porous line. The tone of the poem is confusing.