Introduction to Poetry Billy Collins
I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

I found this to be an amazing poem it is very basic and to the point. I found myself the whole way through just wanting to know exactly what it was about and exactly what it means. I think most of us do this with poems we want it to just jump out with a meaning but poems don’t do that we each figure out a meaning within the folds of the letters and rhythm of the lines. And I found it quite comical that even Billy Collins know that people did that they wanted to find out what it really means and how we each want people to tell us we don’t want to take that effort to figure it out for ourselves.


Cartoon Physics, part 1 Nick Flynn
Children under, say, ten, shouldn't know
that the universe is ever-expanding,
inexorably pushing into the vacuum, galaxies
swallowed by galaxies, whole
solar systems collapsing, all of it
acted out in silence. At ten we are still learning
the rules of cartoon animation,
that if a man draws a door on a rock
only he can pass through it.
Anyone else who tries
will crash into the rock. Ten-year-olds
should stick with burning houses, car wrecks,
ships going down -- earthbound, tangible
disasters, arenas
where they can be heroes. You can run
back into a burning house, sinking ships
have lifeboats, the trucks will come
with their ladders, if you jump
you will be saved. A child
places her hand on the roof of a schoolbus,
& drives across a city of sand. She knows
the exact spot it will skid, at which point
the bridge will give, who will swim to safety
& who will be pulled under by sharks. She will learn
that if a man runs off the edge of a cliff
he will not fall
until he notices his mistake.

I really enjoyed this poem it had an essence that just grabbed me from the start. I loved each detail that relates to those early morning cartoons and our own long gone innocence that the world was safe and pure. It’s completely true some time near ten you begin to see the anger and evil of the world how everything isn’t super heroes and not everyone has a safety net. As a child we are fearless because we see no wrong if the house goes up in flames we know dad is strong enough to save you, or no matter what is lurking in the ocean you will never face danger while resting in your life jacket. I really enjoyed how this poem relates to all of us and takes us back to that safe place before evil every existed.



Key To The Highway Mark Halliday
Iremember riding somewhere in a fast car
with my brother and his friend Jack Brooks
and we were listening to Layla & Other Love Songs
by Derek & the Dominos. The night was dark,
dark all along the highway. Jack Brooks was
a pretty funny guy, and I was delighted
by the comradely interplay between him and my brother,
but I tried not to show it for fear of inhibiting them.
I tried to be reserved and maintain a certain
dignity appropriate to my age, older by four years.
They knew the Dominos album well having played the cassette
many times, and they knew how much they liked it.
As we rode on in the dark I felt the music was,
after all, wonderful, and I said so
with as much dignity as possible. "That's right,"
said my brother. "You're getting smarter," said Jack.
We were listening to "Bell Bottom Blues"
at that moment. Later we were listening to
"Key to the Highway", and I remembered how
my brother said, "Yeah, yeah." And Jack sang
one of the lines in a way that made me laugh.
I am upset by the fact that that night is so absolutely gone.
No, "upset" is too strong. Or is it.
But that night is so obscure—until now
I may not have thought of that ride once
in eight years—and this obscurity troubles me.
Death is going to defeat us all so easily.
Jack Brooks is in Florida, I believe,
and I may never see him again, which is
more or less all right with me; he and my brother
lost touch some years ago. I wonder
where we were going that night. I don't know;
but it seemed as if we had the key to the highway.

I am not completely sure where the writer of this poem was going but I related to this in the way that we need to embrace the present because that’s all we really have. Each of us grows up grows apart changes and changes some more and we can’t dread the future or waist a moment of the present because we never know what is coming whether it leads to broken relationships of fading from friends we truly need to embrace what we have with them right now. We have the keys to our highway and where we go we must always look forward and embrace what god gives us no matter hand of cards that maybe.



Kyrie Tomas Tranströmer
At times my life suddenly opens its eyes in the dark.
A feeling of masses of people pushing blindly
through the streets, excitedly, toward some miracle,
while I remain here and no one sees me.
It is like the child who falls asleep in terror
listening to the heavy thumps of his heart.
For a long, long time till morning puts his light in the locks
and the doors of darkness open.

To me this poem is about a person who is lost within himself and when he breaks the seal and opens his eyes the feeling doesn’t get any better he is over whelmed with the feelings of being alone and forgotten from the world. No one takes the time to see him due to them being too busy with their own lives and themselves. As he states “ I remain here and no one sees me”, this expresses how we are each too busy to see things within our live whether this be just a regular man or the most wonderful pieces of art or magic the world possesses. I truly enjoy how the ending stanza relates it to a child’s nightmares and how we each must wake up to see the light, just as a child.


Hate Poem Julie Sheehan
I hate you truly. Truly I do.
Everything about me hates everything about you.
The flick of my wrist hates you.
The way I hold my pencil hates you.
The sound made by my tiniest bones were they trapped
in the jaws of a moray eel hates you.
Each corpuscle singing in its capillary hates you.
Look out! Fore! I hate you.
The blue-green jewel of sock lint I’m digging
from under by third toenail, left foot, hates you.
The history of this keychain hates you.
My sigh in the background as you explain relational databases
hates you.
The goldfish of my genius hates you.
My aorta hates you. Also my ancestors.
A closed window is both a closed window and an obvious
symbol of how I hate you.
My voice curt as a hairshirt: hate.
My hesitation when you invite me for a drive: hate.
My pleasant “good morning”: hate.
You know how when I’m sleepy I nuzzle my head
under your arm? Hate.
The whites of my target-eyes articulate hate. My wit
practices it.
My breasts relaxing in their holster from morning
to night hate you.
Layers of hate, a parfait.
Hours after our latest row, brandishing the sharp glee of hate,
I dissect you cell by cell, so that I might hate each one
individually and at leisure.
My lungs, duplicitous twins, expand with the utter validity
of my hate, which can never have enough of you,
Breathlessly, like two idealists in a broken submarine.

You can feel the pure hatred the writer is feeling as she uses repetition and imagery throughout the full poem. At the close of many of the lines she ends with “hate you”, to clearly get the point across of how much in the fibers of her being she truly despises this person. As well as she uses imagery beautifully by coming up with ridicules thoughts such as “The blue-green jewel of sock lint I’m digging from under by third toenail, left foot, hates you.” You can just see the disgusting image this small piece of her poems paints within your mind and we can see, smell and feel her anger from many of terms such as this. AS you read over this poem it’s as though the writer was once close with this mysteries person she know hates due to sentences such as, “You know how when I’m sleepy I nuzzle my head under your arm? Hate.” IT makes you think that possibly this anger is due to a horrible fight or possible break up and this anger is due to fear pain sadness and potentially unresolved love.