Oct 3, 2009

15th Virtual Poetry Circle

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Sorry we're a bit late this morning, but book club ran late last night as we discussed Catching Fire (The Second Book of the Hunger Games) by Suzanne Collins.

And now, for the fifteenth edition of the Virtual Poetry Circle:

OK, Here's a poem up for reactions, interaction, and--dare I say it--analysis:

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock's books suggested. Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don't like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Today, we're going to look at a classic poem from Alfred Joyce Kilmer, a poet killed in World War I:

Trees (1913)

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

Let me know your thoughts, ideas, feelings, impressions. Let's have a great discussion...pick a line, pick an image, pick a sentence.

I've you missed the other Virtual Poetry Circles, check them out here. It's never too late to join the discussion.

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Jenners said...

This was a lovely poem! I know I read it ages ago but didn't realize just how lovely it was. In themes, it seems tied the poem from the 11-year-old girl you had last week. I love how the poet makes the tree seem like a person -- wearing robins in her hair. I found this extremely pleasing. Thank you for these posts ... your choices are exposing me to poetry in a way that I can appreciate and enjoy.

Anna said...

I like the idea of stopping to see the beauty, the life in nature.

Diary of an Eccentric

Serena said...

I really loved this poem when I read it in High School history class. I love poems with nature, particularly trees.

I adore the robins in her hair, but also these lines: "Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain."

The narrator is in awe of nature and of God.

Jeanne said...

I thought this poem was only referred to as a joke anymore...even though I tried to find a line to admire, too many years of cynicism and my ongoing irritation with the machinizations of religious nuts in the local school system defeated my attempt.

Serena said...

Jeanne: wow. "machinizations of religious nuts in the local school system"; do tell??

Jeanne said...

Oh, you can actually google my local controversy. Try "John Freshwater" and "creationism" for starters (he was teaching creationism at the middle school my children were attending right up until last year). He still hasn't been fired, the parents of the child whose arm he burned a cross into settled their lawsuit, and the newest installment is that the school board elections are going to be determined by how big a turnout his supporters can muster at the local polls. Sigh.

Serena said...

I cannot believe that creationism and evolution are still at odds in schools after all these years and court decisions. O brother.

This controversy takes the cake though...he's a teacher for crying out loud. You're supposed to teach, not brand the students with crosses!