I found this on the web: Here a hawk never enters this wintry scene and yet it holds the whole poem together. Again, notice the negative words which open both the first and second stanzas: The Snow Storm No hawk hangs over in this air: The urgent snow is everywhere. The wing adroiter than a sail Must lean away from such a gale, Abandoning its straight intent, Or else expose tough ligament And tender flesh to what before Mean dampened feathers, nothing more. Forceless upon our backs there fall Infrequent flakes hexagonal, Devised in many a curious style To charm our safety for a while, Where close to earth like mice we go Under the horizontal snow. By associating snow with the hawk, Edna mines additional meaning when she compares humans to mice. Is the snow really "infrequent", "curious" and "charming"? As mice, we are its prey. Her sympathies are with the hawk's "tender flesh" and "dampened feathers."
On further reflection, I'm not clear that the author had any truly deep meanings in mind for this poem. She's obviously giving two different perspectives on a winter storm...almost from a third person point of view. One from the hawk's vantage point whom she seems to admire and sympathize with it's plight in dealing with the storm. The other from us humans' perspective under the snow fall where were almost immune or non-observant of the flakes falling around us...like they put us at ease. This may explain why she chose to use words such as "infrequent", "curious", and "charm" when describing the flakes...to give off a sense of irony. Then, by comparing humans to mice, she is telling me that we are still a target of dangerous circumstances...not unlike that of mice living under the ire of being picked off by the hunting hawk. The author, Edna, apparently grew up in an environment where snow was common which probably led to her incorporating that into her poetry. At least, from what I've read, that is my understanding. Oh well...I'm done here. Good stuff.
ummm... it means it's snowing. (Seriously, you guys are good. Maybe we need some bbs poetry readings/ analysis. I'd like to learn more about poetry but it seems like I never get it right.)
You and me both. Unless I'm told what the poem means, I can't analyze for crap. Once I know what I'm looking for, I'm like a hawk (HAH!) at finding supporting evidence.
I think its a simple juxtaposition between leaders/idealists and those who are just here for comfort and safety. What does it mean to be a hawk, to soar in the realm of ideals with convictions? It means A) being a leader but also B) failing being off the ground, and with that failure, which in the face of say, a rainstorm, a hawk would not fail, when there is snow(new challenges, ill fortune) it is harder to uphold this path, and unfit for a hawk to fly safely in....and so they go South. In contrast, to survive, all one must do is fit in, stay safe and secure close to the ground, and they won't have to stray from their course. The question is, which one is better? I think its left unanswered. Just a reading though. You might want to do a scansion on it...all the soft h sounds in the first paragraph really capture the quiet fury of a snow storm... good read
hey! an opportunity to use that useless english major i abandoned.... beyond the literal interpretation, which is pretty damned obvious, Surfguy is on the correct path. it is mostly about adversity and how the boldest of men, the strongest of people, do not fly high in such moments. we are all susceptible to the snow storm. what i find interesting is the usage of the word "charming". it makes me think about how 1) others can laugh at us in our times of despair; 2) how we can sometimes laugh at ourselves in our toughest hours; and 3) how tough times are somehow pleasurable. i know i tend to endear myself to tough times whenever i have to endure them. it's an attitude of "hey, i'm here, and you're hear, so let's get to know each other real well. let's get down and dirty!"
The frown on my face The lines etched in place The furrow in my brow The sneering nose tells you how I feel The quivering in my hand The knee that bounces and stands The piercing of my eyes My intellectual instinct cries That you steal False judgment that I feel An anger that’s permanent as the scars You see And I just can’t be Happy I know it sounds sappy But I couldn’t be happier than When I’m angrier I couldn’t find more peace Than when I sit to release the beast His claws My paws Heated vapor Upon this paper Tingling sensations I savor Feelings of suicide cease When I sit to release the beast I get up in the morning Sometimes I feel good Sometimes I feel bad Weave and speed my way through traffic To reach a job I’m glad I’ve had Cause it stokes the fire And stirs the coals Gives me the shivers Summons the rising goose bumps cold Grows old Grows stale Makes me feel like I’m trapped in hell And I hate it I relish it I cherish it I love it Inspiration To have the courage to initiate detonation Blow the gates off the gates of hell Release the beast inside Aggression dispel I could never be just as well I just can’t be Happy I know it sounds sappy But I couldn’t be happier than When I’m angrier I couldn’t find more peace Than when I sit to release the beast I love God But I can draw the Judas Iscariot I can transform betrayal, hatred, and grief Into elixirs through words of griot Release tension and desires passionate Through prose, poetry and Short compositions and a magnet Attitude Different angles Place feelings with longitude and latitude Because I couldn’t be happier than When I’m angrier And I couldn’t find more peace Than when I sit to release the beast ************************** interesting what i find when i go through my old college floppy disks.....
Whenever I had to interpret poems like this for school, I usually went to my Dad. He amazed me with the stuff he was able to pick out from reading them...stuff I would never have thought of. So, the next day when I attended class and we had the discussion, I had some of the best answers to the interpretations as far as what the teacher was looking for. I guess you could call that a form of cheating but it was more of a collaboration to enhance the thought processes. I personally am not a big fan of poetry. I think if you gave the same poem to a hundred different people and they didn't know anything about it...they would probably come up with 100 different interpretations...right or wrong...based upon their own life experiences and regardless of what the author intended the deeper meaning to be. In that sense, poetry is kind of frustrating because the author wrote this poem and maybe the author did have a deeper meaning in mind but left it open to interpretation rather than give their Cliff notes version of what the hell their talking about based on the actual experiences their drawing from. But, after all, isn't that what poetry is all about? Meaning different things to different people? The more people that post their interpretations here gives me more inclination to believe that interpretation of poetry can be and, probably almost always is, very subjective. It appeases me to see that, in a lot of you fellow BBS-ers' interpretations, that we draw a lot of commonalities from this little poem. I am curious as to what the author had in mind for the deeper meaning. If you find out, rezdawg, then please let us know. This thread has descended into the deepest, darkest areas of my mind and what I see there is, besides a lot of confusing thought which I can't seem to resolve, is a cliff. Whatever that means will be explained metaphorically in my next poem when and if I ever write it(to be accompanied by Cliff notes). I'll probably write it on my death bed. Maybe beyond that cliff are just dead brain cells. I dunno. LOL. Surf
Return to Honor's Court Years they wander'd lost Flyers grounded, a former king banished Fated to watch in the days that matter most Striving in contests poor, that left their herd famished Fallen far and fast Thier moor general in his dotage fled to the north land Cap'ns gliding done at last A decade half with no great stand We raid the north for skill at arms, war head fail'd the test We raid the east for size and strength and our fortunes spiral up But we toil in the brutal contested West Leader sick we recoil at the sun as we are lifted from the cup A new general, Yankee sibling Stan To control our frantic troup Begat a mighty defensive plan Thus did the old kings regrouhe l Our road is peril fraught We face the loaded la la lords but ended is the drought appeased for the nonce the hoards We shant ee'r deighn to stop Until every bayou voice does sing Steve's franchaise at the top A dynast worthy of Ming
