Untitled [You did say, need me less and I’ll want you more] by Marilyn Hacker.
For my reading response this week, I have chosen to examine the Untitled poem by Marilyn Hacker. This poem was listed under the sonnet section, and had it not been listed there, I likely would not have identified it as a sonnet. Perhaps I am not familiar enough with the form, but I found this sonnet to be unique in the way that it expands, stretches, and arguably breaks the typical sonnet structure. This past fall, I took a poetry class, and we looked at many traditional and non-traditional sonnets. With a traditional sonnet, their form stands out almost immediately, but that is not the case at all with this sonnet. Hacker uses the sonnet form to suit her own needs, while still creating a distinct lyrical sound throughout the piece. Another aspect of this poem I appreciated was its imagery, particularly the lines “in what’s not yet our room, strewn, though, with your/guitar, shoes, notebook, socks, trousers enjambed/with mine.” This sudden list of items disrupts the otherwise reflective poem and brings the reader back into reality.
I am responding to: “I lock you in an American sonnet that is part prison”.
I really loved this poem—I was immediately captivated by the title, because the concept of being locked “in a sonnet” is so unique and fascinating. Hayes does a great job of capturing this claustrophobic, trapped atmosphere; immersing the reader in the feeling of *America*. The tension between the crow/gym metaphor was really interesting even though I didn’t fully understand it. Gyms sort of epitomize American life: running around a circular track, going nowhere. I really loved how he ended it, too: (“It is not enough / to love you. It is not enough to want you destroyed.”). It shows the tug-of-war between trying to love the place you live even when it doesn’t love you in return, or hating it, but feeling like no matter how much you hate it, you can’t destroy it.
This poem really stood out to me because while reading the title I thought that this would be a cozy poem (if that makes sense). However, it turned out to be about under-appreciated work. It felt like the father became the house and vice versa in this poem and thus the idea of being ‘confined’ in a sonnet makes so much sense to me. It is like he became the walls of protection and warmth, a confined sanctuary and the form emphasizes this. Especially the line “and slowly I would rise and dress,/ fearing the chronic angers of that house,” stood out to me. I feel like this is where the reader can clearly see how the father became the house in the author’s mind.
I chose the poem Sonnet XLIII by Edna St. Vincent Millay. I am not very familiar with sonnets so this was interesting to read. I love the imagery that this poem gives. She talks about rain and a tap on the window, when there is no one there. A theme in this poem seems to be loneliness and emptiness. She says these taps are “listening for a reply”. She could be implying that she feels empty and is waiting for a reply like these taps. She says that the birds are leaving and there is just a tree in the winter. The tree may represent her and her loneliness. I love the last line. She says that summer made her happy, but now she does not feel that way in the last line. This creates the sense of loneliness, offering some reason as to why she may be feeling this way. It could be exploring that something changed in her life as the seasons changed.
I liked this week’s batch of poems much more than last week’s. There were a few lines that were so so good, like:
“I lock you in a form that is part music box, part meat
Grinder to separate the song of the bird from the bone.”
And
“existential jambalaya”
(both Terrance Hayes.)
And
“wanting you so much it looks like need”
(Marilyn Hacker.)
But the poem that I am selecting to respond to is “Those Winter Sundays” by Robert Hayden because I was viscerally moved by this poem, which I hadn’t expected. It stirred so much appreciation of the many little things my husband does for me and my children. It’s overwhelming, honestly.
Poetry can serve as a call to action, to tell us what to say and how to treat to say those we love while they are still with us.
In “Things I Forgot to Put on My Reminder List,” Richard Jackson weaves together the mundane and the profound, the personal and the political, in a powerful meditation on memory, loss, and the human condition. The poem is structured as a list of reminders, but these items quickly transcend the every day to encompass deeper existential concerns.
I enjoyed the juxtaposition between simple, domestic tasks like turning off the coffee, feeding the cat and images of war, violence, and despair. This contrast heightens the sense of dissonance and fragmentation. Throughout the poem, vivid and unsettling metaphors are used to convey the intensity of emotion and the complexity of the human experience. The firelight that “grabs everything like a hungry star,” the hate that drips “off the table into the next century,” and the heart that “floats to the surface” all contribute to a sense of urgency and unease. The image of the two wild turkeys and the idea that “we are all tied together by invisible emotions” suggest the resilience of the human spirit and the power of empathy to transcend even the most difficult circumstances.
I found the poem to be a haunting and deeply moving reflection on the challenges and joys of being human.
6 responses to “Week 12 Reading Response (Weds)”
Untitled [You did say, need me less and I’ll want you more] by Marilyn Hacker.
For my reading response this week, I have chosen to examine the Untitled poem by Marilyn Hacker. This poem was listed under the sonnet section, and had it not been listed there, I likely would not have identified it as a sonnet. Perhaps I am not familiar enough with the form, but I found this sonnet to be unique in the way that it expands, stretches, and arguably breaks the typical sonnet structure. This past fall, I took a poetry class, and we looked at many traditional and non-traditional sonnets. With a traditional sonnet, their form stands out almost immediately, but that is not the case at all with this sonnet. Hacker uses the sonnet form to suit her own needs, while still creating a distinct lyrical sound throughout the piece. Another aspect of this poem I appreciated was its imagery, particularly the lines “in what’s not yet our room, strewn, though, with your/guitar, shoes, notebook, socks, trousers enjambed/with mine.” This sudden list of items disrupts the otherwise reflective poem and brings the reader back into reality.
I am responding to: “I lock you in an American sonnet that is part prison”.
I really loved this poem—I was immediately captivated by the title, because the concept of being locked “in a sonnet” is so unique and fascinating. Hayes does a great job of capturing this claustrophobic, trapped atmosphere; immersing the reader in the feeling of *America*. The tension between the crow/gym metaphor was really interesting even though I didn’t fully understand it. Gyms sort of epitomize American life: running around a circular track, going nowhere. I really loved how he ended it, too: (“It is not enough / to love you. It is not enough to want you destroyed.”). It shows the tug-of-war between trying to love the place you live even when it doesn’t love you in return, or hating it, but feeling like no matter how much you hate it, you can’t destroy it.
“Those Winter Sundays” – Robert Hayden
This poem really stood out to me because while reading the title I thought that this would be a cozy poem (if that makes sense). However, it turned out to be about under-appreciated work. It felt like the father became the house and vice versa in this poem and thus the idea of being ‘confined’ in a sonnet makes so much sense to me. It is like he became the walls of protection and warmth, a confined sanctuary and the form emphasizes this. Especially the line “and slowly I would rise and dress,/ fearing the chronic angers of that house,” stood out to me. I feel like this is where the reader can clearly see how the father became the house in the author’s mind.
I chose the poem Sonnet XLIII by Edna St. Vincent Millay. I am not very familiar with sonnets so this was interesting to read. I love the imagery that this poem gives. She talks about rain and a tap on the window, when there is no one there. A theme in this poem seems to be loneliness and emptiness. She says these taps are “listening for a reply”. She could be implying that she feels empty and is waiting for a reply like these taps. She says that the birds are leaving and there is just a tree in the winter. The tree may represent her and her loneliness. I love the last line. She says that summer made her happy, but now she does not feel that way in the last line. This creates the sense of loneliness, offering some reason as to why she may be feeling this way. It could be exploring that something changed in her life as the seasons changed.
I liked this week’s batch of poems much more than last week’s. There were a few lines that were so so good, like:
“I lock you in a form that is part music box, part meat
Grinder to separate the song of the bird from the bone.”
And
“existential jambalaya”
(both Terrance Hayes.)
And
“wanting you so much it looks like need”
(Marilyn Hacker.)
But the poem that I am selecting to respond to is “Those Winter Sundays” by Robert Hayden because I was viscerally moved by this poem, which I hadn’t expected. It stirred so much appreciation of the many little things my husband does for me and my children. It’s overwhelming, honestly.
Poetry can serve as a call to action, to tell us what to say and how to treat to say those we love while they are still with us.
In “Things I Forgot to Put on My Reminder List,” Richard Jackson weaves together the mundane and the profound, the personal and the political, in a powerful meditation on memory, loss, and the human condition. The poem is structured as a list of reminders, but these items quickly transcend the every day to encompass deeper existential concerns.
I enjoyed the juxtaposition between simple, domestic tasks like turning off the coffee, feeding the cat and images of war, violence, and despair. This contrast heightens the sense of dissonance and fragmentation. Throughout the poem, vivid and unsettling metaphors are used to convey the intensity of emotion and the complexity of the human experience. The firelight that “grabs everything like a hungry star,” the hate that drips “off the table into the next century,” and the heart that “floats to the surface” all contribute to a sense of urgency and unease. The image of the two wild turkeys and the idea that “we are all tied together by invisible emotions” suggest the resilience of the human spirit and the power of empathy to transcend even the most difficult circumstances.
I found the poem to be a haunting and deeply moving reflection on the challenges and joys of being human.