It is fascinating that so many images of White are part of this poem and yet the search goes on -- which some may believe is a search for the poem, for the right words to help start over. "It has to be cold / So the breath turns white" (137-38) the search for White in this poem has embraced a wedding, a bride, snow, the Arctic, and in the end, the reader can create something White from any one of the images. In lines 225-227, the poet is "…the bullet / that has baptized each one of your senses / Poems are made of our lusty wedding nights." And the poet is the sea into which the reader slowly sinks -- "with arms in the posture of someone drowning." For this paper, the reader is drowning in the possibility that a hundred different images and ideas are presented by Simic that aren't supposed to be fully understood, but instead are to be morsels that require thought and imagination but really don't come clear).
This sounds like a poisoned environment; trees are dying, ants struggle, even the bread is on "artificial limbs" and there is a wheelchair with a headless doll (a hideously dark image). The shacks are so small only one person can live in there and the fact that they are walking single file suggests they are prisoners. This is a disastrous environment because why would the poet's mother have to squat to pee if there are toilets? She is outside squatting, a very sad ending to a short but dark poem.
Simic Charles Simic's poem "My Mother Was a Braid of Black Smoke" appears in New and Selected Poems, 1962-2012. The poem is the story of the poet's genesis, and it is difficult for the reader to distinguish between what is actual memory and what is the impression or imagination of the speaker. The first stanza starts, "My mother was a braid of black smoke." The imagery in this stanza, with his
Fern Hill (Dylan Thomas) The "Poetry Explications" handout from UNC states that a poetry explication is a "relatively short analysis which describes the possible meanings and relationship of the words, images, and other small units that make up a poem." The speaker in "Fern Hill" dramatically embraces memories from his childhood days at his uncle's farm, when the world was innocent; the second part brings out the speaker's loss of innocence and
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