Although I
enjoyed several pieces from the selection of place poems we are supposed to
read for the upcoming lesson on Friday, there are two I particularly liked.
The first
one is by Elizabeth Bishop and bears the title "Filling Station". The
idea of a place which is evoked only by the first stanza is nothing but
incredible – although the filling station in my imagination pretty soon turns
into something darker, more industrialized, colossal; an oil rig out on the
grey sea with engineers covered in black slime. "oil-soaked, oil-permeated
to a disturbing, over-all black translucency." Are we still at a
"little filling station"? To contrast the word "little"
with the industrial monstrosity evoked by the repeated dark vowels has a strong
effect. The consonances in the second stanza add an additional notion of
danger: "and several quick and saucy and greasy sons assist
him". It is daily work, sons helping out at the filling station, but
Bishop's sharp s-sounds make it feel like a dangerous task (which it is –
"Be careful with that match!"). What follows is a more accurate
description of the place with balances out the over-the-top description of oil
and greasy nature from the first stanzas and gives more shape to the actual
place: "It has a cement porch behind the pumps, and on it a set of crushed
and grease-impregnated wickerwork; on the wicker sofa a dirty dog, quite
comfy." One can see the place now.
The other
poem which struck me was "Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota",
which keeps exactly what the title promises. Everyone who rested in the
countryside before knows the described feeling of standstill, silence and how
time can follow different rules outside of the city. Time is also what the last
line of the poem is concerning with: "I have wasted my life" strikes
with a unexpected heaviness into the described idyll. A sharp cut with makes
you immediately want to reread the whole poem. And again you encounter pleasant
and light alliterations like in "bronze butterfly" and rhythmically
ringing "cowbells follow[ing] one another" (assonance). You lean back
like the lyrical I – and the final line strikes again.
I completely agree on both parts here. Although, I almost feel as if Bishop's poem is not only a type of commentary on industrialization. It's kind of like she's using the filling station, its danger, and grime to represent the family's dynamic as well. Also, in Wright's poem, I feel almost as if his last line not only brings himself back to reality, but the reader as well. I feel like I had wasted a minute of my life only reading about this place, let alone spending days (or even longer) on a farm where wasting time like that seems pretty restful.
ReplyDelete