Reading poetry (a layered approach)

[alee_grrl]

Reading poetry is a very personal thing, much like viewing art or listening to music. There are many layers that can be added or subtracted from the approach, and each layer has its own joy and beauty. For instance there is what I like to call the surface approach. For me this is the initial glance at a work of art, the first read of a poem. A moment to savor the image or words without really thinking too much about it, to feel rather than to analyze.

The next layer I might add to poetry is the joy of hearing the poem, of letting the words roll around my mouth and feeling the rhythm and tempo of the verse. Sometimes, but not always, I will read a verse out loud just to experience this layer of reading.

Next for me is the closer read, the beginning of analysis. I'll read through a poem again just to see what links and images jump out at me. What phrasing particularly strikes me, or what symbolism resonates. This is not so much an academic analysis, but a personal one. Why did I like or dislike the poem? What really jumped out at me.

Then comes the academic or analytical read where I look for the hidden gems or easter eggs within the work. Are there nods to the popular culture of the time, a sly wink or elbow nudge? What is the theme? What symbolism does the author use to effectively promote that theme? Do any of the symbols have a multiple meanings that might play into the reading? There are so many questions that may be asked, so many layers to parse through in a reading.

The final layer for me is reading an annotated version of the poem (though sometimes this is the first read, depending on the context). Annotated versions can be particularly helpful in understanding older works, where the artful hints and plays on words are no longer well known or understood, and in translations particularly if the reader does not speak the original language. Annotated editions can help a reader understand the greater nuances of a poem.

These layers or levels are just my own personal understanding of how I read poetry. There are not always done in any particular order. One layer, or style, of reading might strike my fancy one day, and another the next. Sometimes I will combine the styles on the same day. Sometimes these levels are spread out over time. I may have read a poem that I enjoyed the surface reading of, come back to it days or months later to read it more closely, and then maybe even later come back to fully analyze it. Some poems I start with the annotated version and go hunting for the unannotated later, and vice versa. As I said, I find reading poetry to be a very personal thing and everyone has their preferences.

I will confess to not fully analyze much poetry since college. However there is an enjoyment to be found in a close analysis. Often when I do analyze a poem I mix the personal analysis with the academic. Right now I often find the academic analysis hard, my brain just doesn't seem to want to make the connections that it once made so easily (alas a side effect of late-stage Lyme). Hopefully this will return as treatment progresses. My original plan with this post was to find a poem and do a full on easter egg hunt and analysis, but I'm afraid I just am not up for it this week. So I will leave the post idea out there in the open. Maybe someone will be inspired by it, and maybe I will come back to it when my health is better.

Since I'm hesitant to offer a full on academic review of a poem, I will share with you my reading (thoughts and analysis) of a short Robert Frost poem. I found that many of his poems resonated with me even before I moved to Vermont. Then when I first lived in Vermont in the mid-2000s I ended up living just down the road from where Frost lived and wrote while in Vermont. Seeing the landscape that he wrote about and living in the Vermont seasons made the poems resonate even more within my heart.

Atmosphere
By Robert Lee Frost
Text in full from Public Domain Poetry

Inscription for a Garden Wall

Winds blow the open grassy places bleak;
But where this old wall burns a sunny cheek,
They eddy over it too toppling weak
To blow the earth or anything self-clear;
Moisture and color and odor thicken here.
The hours of daylight gather atmosphere.

The first thing that comes to mind when I read this poem is the many old stacked stone garden walls that dot the fields and forests of Vermont. Boulders and stones are a common problem for farmers and gardeners, who are forever fishing them out of the fields and moving them. So one solutions was to use the stones to build walls and cairns. I can easily imagine this inscription being on one.

This poem vividly calls to mind a sun-swept summer day, a light breeze blowing and flowers dotting the landscape. I think of picnics and afternoons with a book. The poem calls attention to the detail that seeds and dust would gather more on one side more than the other depending on the direction of the breeze. And so one side would likely be more covered in dirt and moss, while the other had more flowers and plants. In addition to the scientific facts though I think of the atmosphere, the aura that such a place has. It is almost a magical one, where a person expects to see a small goblin or faerie amidst the stones. This thought then loops into a reminder thought that such magic can so often be found in ordinary places because of the atmosphere that nature and life has built around that place.

There are other themes and nuances here that I may be missing. This poem may bring to mind completely different things for other people. So I ask you, what are your thoughts on this brief verse?

For further discussion: How do you read poetry? What are some of the thoughts and questions that come to mind when you read? What are your thoughts on annotated versus unannotated works? Other thoughts and comments?

Edited to make the initial opening paragraph more readable by splitting it up into multiple paragraphs.

Comments

[untonuggan]

This is very much how I read poetry, and it's what makes it so difficult when I read through something once and someone goes, "What do you think?" I need to let a poem percolate in my mind and on my tongue for awhile before I can do any justice with commentary on it.

Similarly, I needed to let this post percolate before I commented on it. ;)

I know the Frost poem you mentioned probably refers to Vermont, but for me it conjurs up images of the North Yorkshire moors. There are stone walls out the wazoo (official tourist booklet phrase) because the area is full of limestone and that is the easiest material to use. In addition, they are dry stone walls (meaning no mortar, just fit together with human ingenuity like a tetris puzzle) - my favorite kind.

Moisture and color and odor thicken here.
The hours of daylight gather atmosphere.

These lines really make me think of all the British folklore about Faerie and Marsh Lights that lure unwary travelers off into the distance, etc. The fact that the poem stops here without elaborating on what happens in the gathered atmosphere sort of lends itself to that idea, for me, because it is as though the poet has abandoned his pen and wandered off onto the moors.

Of course, this is probably not what Frost meant when he wrote the poem at all. He's writing specifically about a Garden wall (although I suppose there could be garden gnomes), not one way out in the country. However, one of the things I like about poetry is that if a meaning is there for a reader, it is never "wrong." It's just a personal reading of the poem, and sort of a way of tapping into the human pool of symbolism that's been created over eons (in different cultures). I don't know if that last bit makes sense, I may not be explaining it quite right.

Anyway, those are just some thoughts. Thank you for this lovely post, it really sat with me since you posted it.

[alee_grrl]

Similarly, I needed to let this post percolate before I commented on it.

I understand completely. I often need some time to let things percolate a bit before commenting, whether it be a poem or an essay. :)

It's interesting that for you the poem brought to mind North Yorkshire and the moors. I've never been to any part of the UK, but Vermont is very similar to those countries. The climate and landscape most feel very much at home for my British friends. The garden walls here are often way out in the country (Vermont is almost nothing but small villages and countryside), and often seem to have been forgotten by humans. Some bisect what are now meadows and forests, the gardens long forgotten. I easily see the narrator wandering off and getting lost while following a will o'wisp, or chancing into a faerie ring.

However, one of the things I like about poetry is that if a meaning is there for a reader, it is never "wrong."

This is also one of the reasons I love poetry. Our own views color our interpretations so much, that it is impossible to have a "wrong" interpretation. I like art for many of the same reasons.

So glad you enjoyed this post, and thank you for commenting.