Pie is So Good In the Sky

Pie is So Good

Oh my I love me some pie
I feel like I am floating in the sky
When I eat pie
I am going to say goodbye
So I can go and eat my pie
And float in the sky

Kellie Eastman

Those winter Sundays

Those winter Sundays by Robert Hayden



Sundays too my father got up early
and put is clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.


I'd wake and hear the coal splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,


Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.


What did I know, what did I know
Of love's austere and lonely offices?



So I didn't really get the poem because of the last two lines but after the discussion on it in class I totally understood. After you said that it reminded you of your grandpa or grandma ( can't remember) I immediately thought of my grandma.

Not to long ago my mom and I were talking about my grandma and how everytime our family got together she would say something about my mom or I. I told my mom about how I don't have a good relationship with her mom. Then my mom told me that even though my grandma might not show that she loves me that she would be the first one to help me if needed it. She said that she would find a way to help me. So after my mom and I's talk I realized that I was nieve when it came to my grandmother. And I think that is what the last two lines are saying;
"What did I know, what did I know
Of love's austere and onely offices?"
I was just too nieve to understand that people show love in different ways.

The Coming of Wisdom with Time

The Coming of Wisdom With Time by William Butler Yeats

though the leaves are many, the root is one;
Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may wither into the truth.

So when I first saw this poem I had no idea what it was talking about but when I sat down to do my blog I was looking through my choices and read this one more time. It came to me!

"though the leaves are many, the root is one;"
I saw the root as ones character and the leaves as the characteristics that made up the character.

"Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;"
So here I thought of lying as one of the leaves but then this leaf over powers all the other leaves. So really the one who lies lives a lie.

"Now I may wither into the truth."
So now when the truth comes into the life of the one who lies, their life withers. All of their leaves wither to reveal the root or the character.

Ethics

Ethics by Linda Pastan



In ethics class so many years ago
our teacher asked this question every fall:
if there were a fire in a museum
which would you save , a Rembrandt painting
or an old woman who hadn't many
years left anyhow? Restless on hard chairs
caring little for pictures or old age
we'd opt one year for life, the next for art
and always half-heartedly. Sometimes
the woman borrowed my grandmother's face
leaving her usual Kitchen to wander
some drafty, half-imagined museum.
One year, feeling clever, I replied
why not let the woman decide herself?
Linda, the teacher would report, eschews
the burden of responsibility.
This fall in a real museum I stand
before a real Rembrandt, old woman,
or nearly so, myself. The colors
within this frame are darker than autumn
darker even than winter-the browns of earth
though earth's most radiant elements burn
through the canvas. I know now that woman
and painting and season are almost one
and all beyond saving by children.


I thought that this poem was very interesting. It really made me think of what I would do in that situation. I came to the conclusion that I would save the old woman.
Now actually talking about the poem. At the beginning the author shows that as a young child she didn't care about a painting or an old lady:
"Restless on hard chairs
caring little for pictures and old age
we'd opt one year for life. the next for art
and always half-heartedly."
Then it goes on to the author showing how she started to actually think about the question asked by thinking of her grandmother:
"Sometimes
the woman borrowed my grandmother's face
leaving her usual kitchen, to wander
some drafty, half-imagined museum."
Then it goes on to show that the author is in a museum as an old lady with a famous work of art:
"This fall in a real museum I stand
before a real Rembrandt, old woman,
or nearly so myself ."

What I got from this poem is that as we grow older the more we learn about what kind of person we want to be. Only with experience will we really know what choice we would make.