Tuesday, February 16, 2010

When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d

When I first read the poem, it took me a while to understand that it was about Abraham Lincoln death. I must admit that I was pretty confused the whole entire time I read the poem. Then after a couple times through, I felt like I started to understand the meaning a bit more. The author was obviously torn up about his death, which the poem greatly resembles by referring to the season of spring as a time of mourning when most poets consider that a time for rebirth.

Since I was not able to go to class on Monday, I was unable to engage in the class discussion of the poem, but I had the chance to talk to Cierra about the poem. We discussed how when something horrible happens to you, you find yourself remembering every single detail about that horrific moment. For example, my mother just called me the other week telling me that one of my best friends dad died by drowning in a river. It had been raining a lot back home and there was a low water crossing, but I guess her dad could not see very well because he drove his car into the water. The rest of the details I do not know, but I do know that he was a great and caring man and loved his family dearly. When I heard this information, I burst into tears, and the relevance of this story is that, I too, remembered exactly what was going on. I was in the car with my boyfriend driving to his sister’s for the day in Orlando. We were right about to exit and we were talking about how school was and what are schedules were going to be like this upcoming week.

Walt Witman’s poem is extremely meaningful and full of precise details. He connects the details of the day and the emotions he was feeling in such an enticing way that it makes the reader want to read his poem over and over again. Even though I read it multiple times I feel as if there are so many things that I still have missed from the poem and look forward to finding out what those things are.

1 comment:

  1. In regards to you last sentence. The poem was extremely hard to decipher compared to most of the other works that we’ve read. Reading it over and over a new idea would always pop into my mind. In some sections I would even take a second pause after every word trying to gather thoughts and ideas on what to write about but even then another read would have produced separate unique feelings.

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