Hale threw fuel on the growing fire of love for writing that there is in my heart again today. I am not sure if I reported about the class that we had to write an analysis of a poem (Poem for my mother – Jennifer Davids) in class for the entire hour. I suppose there is not much to write for you about that, but now I get to come back to you on that.
It seems that what Hale picked up most was that we all looked straight past the basics of poetry analysis, and dove right into the deeper underlying meaning of the poem. We completely forget the power that there is in looking at the structure, theme, tone and mere word use in a poem.
That isn't everything, you said
on the afternoon I brought a poem
to you hunched over the washtub
with your hands
the shrivelled 5
burnt granadilla
skin of your hands
covered by foam.
And my words
slid like a ball 10
of hard blue soap
into the tub
to be grabbed and used by you
to rub the clothes.
A poem isn't all 15
there is to life, you said
with your blue-ringed gaze
scanning the page
once looking over my shoulder
and back at the immediate 20
dirty water
and my words
being clenched
smaller and
smaller. 25
See for yourself what you might learn form this poem if you like. You might learn a little about how important it is for someone with a burning passion for writing to show it to someone who they trust and love to hear their opinion.
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