Death Snips Proud Men by Carl Sandburg

DEATH is stronger than all the governments because the governments are men
and men die and then death laughs: Now you see 'em, now you don't.


Death is stronger than all proud men and so death snips proud men on the nose,
throws a pair of dice and and says: Read 'em and weep.


Death sends a radiogram every day: When I want you I'll drop in - and then one
day he comes with a master-key and lets himself in and says: We'll go now.


Death is a nurse mother with big arms: 'Twon't hurt you at all; it's your time now;
you just need a long sleep, child; what have you had anyhow better than sleep?
~Carl Sandburg

Carl Sandburg was a poet from Illinois who had earned three Pultizer prizes throughout his lifetime, two for his poetry and one for his biography on Abraham Lincoln. He died in 1967 at the age of 89. This poem is obviously about the nature of death, its power and how much power it holds over living things. Even if humans try to become "masters of their destiny" they are all still met with the fate of passing. "Death" can kill you no matter who you are, where you are, your ranking, wealth or education; it doesn't matter about nothing else than doing its job - and its very good at it.

I decided to do a response on a poem about death mainly because my aunt passed away at the age of 54 due to cancer on July 7th, and death seems to be a subject most people don't like to talk about. They know about it, certainly, but it's one of those uncomfortable things that they don't want to acknowledge while they are alive. I've often read that death comes as a complete surprise to those that are close to dying, as they haven't given much thought to it as they went along with their daily lives. I'm usually not overly scared or excited about things (my mother was more excited about prom than I was) and I have thought of death now and then and while thinking about my own death I haven't been as scared, worried or nervous as one migt expect themselves to be; perhaps it is because the real threat of it isn't around, so in the back of my mind I know that I don't need to worry about it just yet. But when thinking about the death of those I care about, especially my friends and favorite family members, I become very depressed and sometimes even cry, depending on who it is. Although I had not cried when I heard my aunt had passed away, or even when my great-grandmother had passed while I was still in middle school, it saddens me to think that I may potentially lose my favorite grandfather or friend without a moments notice.

Low-Anchored Cloud by Henry David Thoreau

Low-anchored cloud,
Newfoundland air,
Fountain-head and source of rivers,
Dew-cloth, dream-drapery,
And napkin spread by fays;
Drifting meadow of the air,
Where bloom the daisied banks and violets,
And in whose fenny labyrinth
The bittern booms and heron wades;
Spirit of lakes and seas and rivers,
Bear only perfumes and the scent
Of healing herbs to just men's fields!
~Henry David Thoreau

Henry David Thoreau is one of the most well-known American poets in U.S. history. While attending Harvard University in the 1800s he read books by his Concord neighbor Ralph Waldo Emerson and never stopped looking into nature for the "ultimate Truth." One could say that this poem was one way he viewed nature as it was while he lived.

Thoreau's poem, while descriptive and interesting, took a little while for me to fully understand - and I don't believe that I believe its mean to the fullest even know. Thoreau is apparently describing the scenery of an area, with low clouds anchored above lakes and seas and rivers with air that bears the perfumes and scents of healing herbs to just men's fields. "Just" in this context might mean "truthful" or "worthy" as in perhaps the men are worthy enough to know where the healing herbs are, which is probably a meadow. The poem as a whole sounds like a description for an area that has been untouched by man and still holds the beauty that nature has before its taken away by the need for more housing and construction.

Bear In There by Shel Silverstein

There's a Polar Bear
In our Frigidaire--
He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.
With his seat in the meat
And his face in the fish
And his big hairy paws
In the buttery dish,
He's nibbling the noodles,
He's munching the rice,
He's slurping the soda,
He's licking the ice.
And he lets out a roar
If you open the door.
And it gives me a scare
To know he's in there--
That Polary Bear
In our Fridgitydaire.
~Shel Silverstein

Shel Silverstein, to me, is most known for children poems and for his rhymes. Silverstein is famous for being a singer-songwriter, musician, composer, cartoonist, screenwriter and author of his childrens' books (such as The Giving Tree and Uncle Shelby's ABZ). My won favorite poem by him is one of a girl who prayed before going to sleep that, if she died while asleep or at any time thereafter, that God break all of her toys so that none of the other children could play with them after she was gone.

One of the best things about this poem is that even though it's short compared to most and is a poem instead of a story the reader can imagine a polar bear sitting in a refrigerator eating the fish. Silverstein has a nice way of choosing a topic, describing that topic and never straying from it throughout the entire poem. This poem, along with many of his poems, would make great short stories if he ever wished to lengthen them.

The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our seas-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame,
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
the wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
~ Emma Lazarus, New York City, 1883

As many can tell, this poem is about the Statue of Liberty, or Lady Liberty as she may be referred to in this poem. Emma Lazarus wrote this in NYC in 1883, one year before the Statue was done being built. What many don't know is that New York almost lost their spot in having Lady Liberty in their harbor as the giant building project of both the statue and the pedestal that she'd be standing on would cost millions of dollars, something which the state didn't have at the time. So Joseph Pulitzer, the New York World publisher (a newspaper that was read by thousands at the time) organized the largest fundraiser in American history, asking readers of the World to donate any and all money they could to help keep Lady Liberty in New York. The New Collossus was read by Lazarus at the celebration of its completion on October 28, 1886 (ten years behind schedule; builders had hoped to unveil it on the 100th anniversary of the Declaration but there were delays) and has come to symbolize the Statue of Liberty.

My personal thoughts on this poem is that it does greatly resemble what people may think Lady Liberty would say: "If you cannot care for your weak, poor and estranged citizens, then give them to me and I'll take care of them." Incidentally whenever I think of the Statue of Liberty I remember a scene in the second Ghost Busters movie where the Ghost Busters got the Statue to move so that New Yorkers (who were portrayed as angry, miserable Americans) would feel proud and happy. The reason they used the Statue of Liberty for this and not something else is because all Americans, including New Yorkers, feel a strong sense of pride about famous American icons such as Lady Liberty, the bald eagle, the American flag, the Declaration of Independence and so on. Fortunately for the Ghost Busters New Yorkers weren't as miserable and selfish as people had thought they'd become.

P.S. Most of the information about the Statue of Liberty came from me watching the show America: Story of Us.

Statue of Liberty

A Hope Poem by Sri Chinmoy

Hope
Know no fear.

Hope dares to blossom

Even inside the abysmal abyss.

Hope secretly feels

And strengthens

Promise.

~ Sri Chinmoy

I've honestly never heard of Sri Chinmoy before reading this poem, but it seems like most of his poems are short: only a few verses each. But his message comes clear and sound in each poem; other poets need fice or six verses to get that message across while Chinmoy only needs three.

I believe that the message I get from reading this poem is that hope shows itself even when nothing else can; the lines "hope know no fear" says that hope is alive when most think it shouldn't be. It's a little like when everyone thought Harry Potter was dead near the end of The Deathly Hallows, when there was a battle at Hogwarts, but he wasn't. And even when his friends and classmates thought he was dead they still had hope and courage left - something I doubt Voldemort expected.

Sri Chinmoy: