I, too, sing America
by Langston Hughes
I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.
Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.
Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--
I, too, am America.
Title: A poem about patriotism and how he fights for his country America.
Paraphrase: I think this poem is talking about how black people were not treated equally as the white people. When he said “I am the darker brother” I think the author is mentioning that he is black. When they say “eat in the kitchen” it means that he is unequally treated because of his race. However, the author does not care about the discrimination and he just laughs. He says he will “eat well and grow strong” because he will just patiently wait until the day. The word “tomorrow” is used to have implication of tomorrow and “nobody’ll dare say to me” meaning he will not give up fighting and will not lose the fire in him: Later, there will be a day where black people and white people are treated equal. The last stanza talks about soon or later people will recognize how beautiful black people are and white people will be ashamed of what they have done to the black people.
Connotation: Point of view- 1st person because it uses the word “I.”
“I, too, am America” – repetition. It is used to emphasize that black people are American and that they will fight to gain what they want.
“Kitchen”- symbolism for less important location. It is used to talk about how black people were treated not the same as the host of the house, which is white people. Back then when black people were discriminated, women were too treated unequally: women worked in kitchen which gives the meaning that kitchen is less important place and it not good enough for male white people.
“Table” – symbolism to explain a place were other people will see. Table is considered more important then kitchen.
“Company” – I think company is meaning the other country. If other country or people come to the house, which can represent the country, they would not want to show the black people, which they were considered lower than black people.
“Tomorrow” – symbolism for the future. It talks about how later in future black people will be treated equally.
“Eat well, grow strong” – symbolism that represents the power. It means later, black people will be having strong position in society.
“Beauty” – symbolism that describes a scale of supremacy over other country or race.
Attitude – Even though the situation is not that cheerful or hopeful the author’s tone is very bright and hopeful. The writer is not thinking about the miserable present time but bright future.
Shifts – A line between “when the company comes” and “But I laugh” has a shift that change the voice to brighter tone.
Title – The title represents the strength of African-American to fight against the racism. Also the title suggests that even though he is discriminated why his own people, white people, he is still proud to be part of America.
Theme – This poem is about a black slave who is trying to be hopeful even when the situation is miserable. The black slave it fighting against the racism without losing a fire in him and determine to never give up the hope. This is related to our life because it gives us life lesson of never give up even when things are not the best.
2008년 2월 27일 수요일
2008년 2월 12일 화요일
Ex-Basketball Player
Ex-Basketball Player by John Updike
Pearl Avenue runs past the high-school lot,
Bends with the trolley tracks, and stops, cut off
Before it has a chance to go two blocks,
At Colonel McComsky Plaza.
Berth’s Garage Is on the corner facing west, and there,
Most days, you'll find Flick Webb, who helps Berth out.
(Stanza)
Flick stands tall among the idiot pumps—
Five on a side, the old bubble-head style,
Their rubber elbows hanging loose and low.
One’s nostrils are two S’s, and his eyes An E and O.
And one is squat, without
A head at all—more of a football type.
(Stanza)
Once Flick played for the high-school team, the Wizards.
He was good: in fact, the best. In ’46
He bucketed three hundred ninety points,
A county record still. The ball loved Flick.
I saw him rack up thirty-eight or forty
In one home game. His hands were like wild birds.
(Stanza)
He never learned a trade, he just sells gas,
Checks oil, and changes flats. Once in a while,
As a gag, he dribbles an inner tube,
But most of us remember anyway.
His hands are fine and nervous on the lug wrench.
It makes no difference to the lug wrench, though.
(Stanza)
Off work, he hangs around Mae’s Luncheonette.
Grease-gray and kind of coiled, he plays pinball,
Smokes those thin cigars, nurses lemon phosphates.
Flick seldom says a word to Mae, just nods
Beyond her face toward bright applauding tiers
Of Necco Wafers, Nibs, and Juju Beads.
Title1- This poem is about a basketball player who retired from a team. - A poem about a basketball player who's glory has faded
Paraphrase - This is a poem about an ex-basketball player who was the best in the town. In third stanza it talks about how he was such a good basketball player in high school. However, the two stanzas at the beginning and the two stanzas at the end have dry voice to tell the basketball player after he retired. After he had ended his basektball career, he worked in a gas station. Out of work, he smoked, drank, and played pinball. It seems like he does not have the glory he had when he played basketball.
Connotation –
Tone – Dry
Point of view – 3rd person
the idiot pumps - personification
One’s nostrils are two S’s, and his eyes An E and O. - Allegory
trolley tracks: Alliteration
The ball loved Flick: personification
His hands are fine and nervous on the lug wrench. It makes no difference to the lug wrench, though. – personification
Checks oil, and changes flats - alliteration
His hands were like wild birds : Similes
As a gag – similes
loose and low : Alliteration
Grease-gray: Alliteration
Attitude – It is dry but it sounds little depressing. It keeps talk about the past when he was good and it contrasts now and back then.
Shifts – Shifts happen a lot in this poem. First two stanzas talk about what Flick is doing now. The third stanza shifts and talks about how good Flick was. Again, fourth and fifth stanza shift and talk about what a depressing he has now.
Title – It is a poem about a basketball player who was the top of the country basketball but now he is just an ordinary guy who works in a gas station.
Theme – I think the theme of this poem is to tell us to be the top of something you are good at. If you are not good enough, then your life will end up like Flick who did not find a place in this world. However, if you become a top, then you will find a place such as playing basketball in professional basketball team.
Pearl Avenue runs past the high-school lot,
Bends with the trolley tracks, and stops, cut off
Before it has a chance to go two blocks,
At Colonel McComsky Plaza.
Berth’s Garage Is on the corner facing west, and there,
Most days, you'll find Flick Webb, who helps Berth out.
(Stanza)
Flick stands tall among the idiot pumps—
Five on a side, the old bubble-head style,
Their rubber elbows hanging loose and low.
One’s nostrils are two S’s, and his eyes An E and O.
And one is squat, without
A head at all—more of a football type.
(Stanza)
Once Flick played for the high-school team, the Wizards.
He was good: in fact, the best. In ’46
He bucketed three hundred ninety points,
A county record still. The ball loved Flick.
I saw him rack up thirty-eight or forty
In one home game. His hands were like wild birds.
(Stanza)
He never learned a trade, he just sells gas,
Checks oil, and changes flats. Once in a while,
As a gag, he dribbles an inner tube,
But most of us remember anyway.
His hands are fine and nervous on the lug wrench.
It makes no difference to the lug wrench, though.
(Stanza)
Off work, he hangs around Mae’s Luncheonette.
Grease-gray and kind of coiled, he plays pinball,
Smokes those thin cigars, nurses lemon phosphates.
Flick seldom says a word to Mae, just nods
Beyond her face toward bright applauding tiers
Of Necco Wafers, Nibs, and Juju Beads.
Title1- This poem is about a basketball player who retired from a team. - A poem about a basketball player who's glory has faded
Paraphrase - This is a poem about an ex-basketball player who was the best in the town. In third stanza it talks about how he was such a good basketball player in high school. However, the two stanzas at the beginning and the two stanzas at the end have dry voice to tell the basketball player after he retired. After he had ended his basektball career, he worked in a gas station. Out of work, he smoked, drank, and played pinball. It seems like he does not have the glory he had when he played basketball.
Connotation –
Tone – Dry
Point of view – 3rd person
the idiot pumps - personification
One’s nostrils are two S’s, and his eyes An E and O. - Allegory
trolley tracks: Alliteration
The ball loved Flick: personification
His hands are fine and nervous on the lug wrench. It makes no difference to the lug wrench, though. – personification
Checks oil, and changes flats - alliteration
His hands were like wild birds : Similes
As a gag – similes
loose and low : Alliteration
Grease-gray: Alliteration
Attitude – It is dry but it sounds little depressing. It keeps talk about the past when he was good and it contrasts now and back then.
Shifts – Shifts happen a lot in this poem. First two stanzas talk about what Flick is doing now. The third stanza shifts and talks about how good Flick was. Again, fourth and fifth stanza shift and talk about what a depressing he has now.
Title – It is a poem about a basketball player who was the top of the country basketball but now he is just an ordinary guy who works in a gas station.
Theme – I think the theme of this poem is to tell us to be the top of something you are good at. If you are not good enough, then your life will end up like Flick who did not find a place in this world. However, if you become a top, then you will find a place such as playing basketball in professional basketball team.
2008년 1월 28일 월요일
Analyzing Poem
Casey at the Bat
by Ernest Lawrence Thayer
A Ballad of the Republic, Sung in the Year 1888
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought if only Casey could but get a whack at that—
We’d put up even money now with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey’s getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile on Casey’s face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey’s eye, a sneer curled Casey’s lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped—
“That ain’t my style,” said Casey. “Strike one,” the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
“Kill him! Kill the umpire!” shouted some one on the stand;
And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey’s visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, “Strike two.”
“Fraud!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey’s lip, his teeth are clinched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.
I was looking through poems in poetry foundation that are related to sports. However, I found that poem I read when I was in 7th grade and I really liked it. This poem is about Casey who is a baseball player, who hits well. Casey team was down by two, only one inning left, and no one was on the field. It seemed like Casey did not have a chance to bat. However, mighty Casey got a chance when his teammates made it to second and third base. Finally, Casey was on the bat. He let go of the two balls because that were not his style. It was the third one and he had to hit it no matter what. Crowd expected Casey to not let go of that on and hit a homerun. The mighty Casey, the best batter, decided to let go of the third one and he was struck out. I really like this poem because this poem has a little twist at the end. When I read this, I expected Casey to hit a homerun for the team, which can lead to a victory, but that was not the ending of it. Also, I am not a fan of baseball but this poem is well written and well described, which I really enjoyed despite what sport the writer focused on.
by Ernest Lawrence Thayer
A Ballad of the Republic, Sung in the Year 1888
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought if only Casey could but get a whack at that—
We’d put up even money now with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey’s getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile on Casey’s face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey’s eye, a sneer curled Casey’s lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped—
“That ain’t my style,” said Casey. “Strike one,” the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
“Kill him! Kill the umpire!” shouted some one on the stand;
And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey’s visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, “Strike two.”
“Fraud!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey’s lip, his teeth are clinched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.
I was looking through poems in poetry foundation that are related to sports. However, I found that poem I read when I was in 7th grade and I really liked it. This poem is about Casey who is a baseball player, who hits well. Casey team was down by two, only one inning left, and no one was on the field. It seemed like Casey did not have a chance to bat. However, mighty Casey got a chance when his teammates made it to second and third base. Finally, Casey was on the bat. He let go of the two balls because that were not his style. It was the third one and he had to hit it no matter what. Crowd expected Casey to not let go of that on and hit a homerun. The mighty Casey, the best batter, decided to let go of the third one and he was struck out. I really like this poem because this poem has a little twist at the end. When I read this, I expected Casey to hit a homerun for the team, which can lead to a victory, but that was not the ending of it. Also, I am not a fan of baseball but this poem is well written and well described, which I really enjoyed despite what sport the writer focused on.
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