Telephone Poles- John Updike

p.415



Two literary devices John Updike employs in "Telephone Poles" are simile and figuritive language. The use of these tools is what ultimately gets his point across.

Updike makes many comparisons in his piece. He devotes much of it to comparing telephone poles to trees, giants, and monsters. He says that telephone poles are "like a race of giantsthat have faded into mere mythology", and each is like "a Gorgon's head, which, seized right, could stun us to stone." By comparing the telephone poles to these sort of magical giants, he is making them seem greater and mightier than humans. This connection is necessary in conveying his next point; despite these "creatures" being so mighty, they are man-made, and we use them for our purposes. Another important simile is at the end, in the last two lines: "These giants are more constant than evergreens/by never being green." Here he is saying that the telephone poles, symbols of man-made technology, are in some ways greater or hold more power than some of nature's natural elements, such as evergreens.

Figurative language is utilized throughout the piece, in phrases such as "What other tree can you climb where the birds' twitter, unscrambled, is English?" Here updike is referring to the conversations of humans that are carried through the wires. This phrase contributes to the meaning of the piece as a whole in that it helps convey the takeover of nature by humans. There is also figurative language present in "But then again there is not that tragic autumnal castig-off of leaves to outface annually." This is another example of the somewhat sarcastic tone that seems to mean that man-made technology is better or more efficient than nature.

Personally, I found this poem interesting in how it combined elements of nature with elements of harsh, man-made technology (it literally mentions bolts, nuts, and insulators). I really like the comparisons made of the telephone poles to trees and giants, and how the poet makes the reader think of telephone poles in these ways. It's interesting because telephone poles are something that have always been around us and we never really notice them or think about them at all. I also really liked the line "What other tree can you climb where the birds' twitter, unscrambled, is English?"

a song in the front yard- Gwendolyn Brooks

p. 348

Two literary devices utilized in this piece are narrative voice/point of view, and diction.

The speaker in this poem is a young girl who is bored with her quiet life in the "front yard", a symbol for people of a higher class than those in the "back yard." The speaker wishes to join the children in the "back yard" and take part in their (perhaps questionable) activities. She wants wants "a good time today" and thinks that these "charity children" "do some wonderful things" and "have some wonderful fun." These sort of vague statements that use words like "wonderful" show the childishness and immaturity of the speaker. Though she may be young and naive, however, the speaker does seem to possess a sense of acceptance that adults like her mother don't have, as they look down upon, judge, and "sneer" at the kids in the "back yard." The overall naivety and curiosity of the child is portrayed through her voice towards the end of the piece when she says, despite her mother's warnings that the back yard children will grow up to be "bad" women or go to jail, "But I say it's fine. Honest, I do. And I'd like to be a bad woman, too, and wear the brave stockings of night-black lace, and strut down the streets with paint on my face." The speaker looks up to these other kids and wants to have the fun and excitement they seem to have, without realizing the dangers of what they're doing; and this innocence ultimately comes through through the use of narrative voice and point of view.

Another important element to examine in this piece is diction. As I mentioned before, the use of words like "wonderful" help to show both the immaturity of the speaker, and how she views the shady activities of the more experienced children, because she doesn't know any better. The terms "brave stockings of night-black lace" and "paint" make symbols of mature femininity like stockings and makeup seem wonderous and almost magical, which is how the inexperienced child views them.

I personally really like this poem. I'm a fan of the overall tone and the idea of a child being bored with being so well-behaved, and in their innocence, thinking of the misguided ways of the more hardened, experienced kids as a sort of game. Not knowing any better, she thinks that there is something wonderful and exciting and playful about the way they act, which I find pretty interesting.

Atlas

A mess of wet skin,
soft flesh,
filthy shoulders.

Atlas never asked to be a statue.

The ache of knowing he can't go home
radiates throughout his bones.
His blood is slow and his hands,
his veins,
are shaky.

His muscles are sore
with love, or its absence,
and as he gazes through oblivion,
he feels lonlier than God.

But he's grown to savor
the salt he tastes,
the Atlantic rolling
down his face.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqQTODR3kR8

Little Motel-Modest Mouse

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqQTODR3kR8

Branches

Sometimes people tell me

that I look like

my father.

He has a warmly

contradictory

face,

the kind that makes you feel

safe.

He's smiling

and sad,

but with that childlike

life lingering in his eyes,

the way families will stay

too late at night

and the party

gets quiet

because no one wants

to go home,

but they know

that they have to.

Sometimes on a

Saturday

while Mom was making lunch,

I used to climb onto

his shoulders

like how kids

climb trees.

He was sturdy

(like dads are)

so I could afford

to be reckless.

He was even beginning

to lose his hair

the way trees do

in September,

but I didn't notice

this, or the cracks

in his skin.

I didn't think

anything of his

weathered veins

back then.

Sometimes we would dance

around the living room

with the TV on.

I would plant my

bare, pink feet

atop his sneakeres.

He would sing or hum

(and I thought

this was silly),

and we'd dance

our clumsy waltz

around, around;

me in my flannel

nightgown,

and we'd leave

only one set

of footprints

in the carpet.

I think I have his eyes.

http://www.soulpancake.com/view_post/1460660/are-we-universally-addicted-to-the-search-for-meaning.html

What do you think?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7mEEjiCBOw&feature=channel