Directions: Please read the following poems. All the poems connect to the thematic elements of A Doll House and Ghosts. Please respond to the 1-2 poems in a response. Think about theme, form, and the use of tone.
Poems:
Marge
Piercy, Barbie Doll
Richard
Wilbur, A Barred Owl
Billy
Collins, The History Teacher
Taylor
Mali, Like, Totally Whatever
Jan
Heller Levi, Not Bad, Dad, Not Bad
Theodore
Roethke, My Papa’s Waltz
Eric
Pellerin, Death of a Timeshare Salesman
Barbie
Doll
by Marge Piercy
This
girlchild was born as usual
and
presented dolls that did pee-pee
and
miniature GE stoves and irons
and
wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy.
Then
in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:
You
have a great big nose and fat legs.
She
was healthy, tested intelligent,
possessed
strong arms and back,
abundant
sexual drive and manual dexterity.
She
went to and fro apologizing.
Everyone
saw a fat nose on thick legs.
She
was advised to play coy,
exhorted
to come on hearty,
exercise,
diet, smile and wheedle.
Her
good nature wore out
like
a fan belt.
So
she cut off her nose and her legs
and
offered them up.
In
the casket displayed on satin she lay
with
the undertaker's cosmetics painted on,
a
turned-up putty nose,
dressed
in a pink and white nightie.
Doesn't
she look pretty? everyone said.
Consummation
at last.
To
every woman a happy ending.
A
Barred Owl
by Richard Wilbur
The
warping night air having brought the boom
Of
an owl’s voice into her darkened room,
We
tell the wakened child that all she heard
Was
an odd question from a forest bird,
Asking
of us, if rightly listened to,
“Who
cooks for you?” and then “Who cooks for you?”
Words,
which can make our terrors bravely clear,
Can
also thus domesticate a fear,
And
send a small child back to sleep at night
Not
listening for the sound of stealthy flight
Or
dreaming of some small thing in a claw
Borne
up to some dark branch and eaten raw.
The
History Teacher by Billy Collins
Trying
to protect his students' innocence
he
told them the Ice Age was really just
the
Chilly Age, a period of a million years
when
everyone had to wear sweaters.
And
the Stone Age became the Gravel Age,
named
after the long driveways of the time.
The
Spanish Inquisition was nothing more
than
an outbreak of questions such as
"How
far is it from here to Madrid?"
"What
do you call the matador's hat?"
The
War of the Roses took place in a garden,
and
the Enola Gay dropped one tiny atom
on
Japan.
The
children would leave his classroom
for
the playground to torment the weak
and
the smart,
mussing
up their hair and breaking their glasses,
while
he gathered up his notes and walked home
past
flower beds and white picket fences,
wondering
if they would believe that soldiers
in
the Boer War told long, rambling stories
designed
to make the enemy nod off.
Totally
like whatever, you know? by Taylor Mali
In
case you hadn’t noticed,
it
has somehow become uncool
to
sound like you know what you’re talking about?
Or
believe strongly in what you’re saying?
Invisible
question marks and parenthetical (you know?)’s
have
been attaching themselves to the ends of our sentences?
Even
when those sentences aren’t, like, questions? You know?
Declarative
sentences—so called
because
they used to, like, DECLARE things to be true, okay,
as
opposed to other things are, like, totally, you know, not—
have
been infected by a totally hip
and
tragically cool interrogative tone? You know?
Like,
don’t think I’m uncool just because I’ve noticed this;
this
is just like the word on the street, you know?
It’s
like what I’ve heard?
I
have nothing personally invested in my own opinions, okay?
I’m
just inviting you to join me in my uncertainty?
What
has happened to our conviction?
Where
are the limbs out on which we once walked?
Have
they been, like, chopped down
with
the rest of the rain forest?
Or
do we have, like, nothing to say?
Has
society become so, like, totally . . .
I
mean absolutely . . . You know?
That
we’ve just gotten to the point where it’s just, like . . .
whatever!
And
so actually our disarticulation . . . ness
is
just a clever sort of . . . thing
to
disguise the fact that we’ve become
the
most aggressively inarticulate generation
to
come along since . . .
you
know, a long, long time ago!
I
entreat you, I implore you, I exhort you,
I
challenge you: To speak with conviction.
To
say what you believe in a manner that bespeaks
the
determination with which you believe it.
Because
contrary to the wisdom of the bumper sticker,
it
is not enough these days to simply QUESTION AUTHORITY.
You
have to speak with it, too.
Not
Bad, Dad, Not Bad by Jan Heller Levi
I
think you are most yourself when you are swimming;
slicing
the water with each stroke,
the
funny way you breathe, your mouth cocked
as
though you’re yawning.
You’re
neither fantastic nor miserable
at
getting from here to there.
You
wouldn’t win any medals, Dad,
but
you wouldn’t drown.
I
think how different everything might have been
had
I judged your loving
like
I judge your sidestroke, your butterfly,
your
Australian crawl.
But
I always thought I was drowning
in
that icy ocean between us,
I
always thought you were moving too slowly to save me,
When
you were moving as fast as you can.
My
Papa’s Waltz
by Theodore Roethke
The
whiskey on your breath
Could
make a small boy dizzy;
But
I hung on like death:
Such
waltzing was not easy.
We
romped until the pans
Slid
from the kitchen shelf;
My
mother’s countenance
Could
not unfrown itself.
The
hand that held my wrist
Was
battered on one knuckle;
At
every step you missed
My
right ear scraped a buckle.
You
beat time on my head
With
a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then
waltzed me off to bed
Still
clinging to your shirt.
death
of a time share salesman by eric pellerin
how
do timeshare salesmen smile at home
is
it the same as when
eddie
came
up
to me during the final moments
to
tell me that he was not going
to
sell me
anything
to
thank me
for
stopping by
that
i just do not love my children
enough
most
people work too hard
die
leave
their children
nothing
that
i can spend my money
on
anything i like
that
this is the best time to buy
his
thick southern drawl
jokes
about liberals
usa
pin on his lapel
betraying
his fear of border jumpers
gays
obama
he
smiles
i
want to smile back
but
i only stare
at
the floor
a
small child
who
peed his pants
he
mentions my children
again
it
is somehow connected
to
time sharing
he
smiles
i
look at him hard
he
returns the glare
still
smiling
an
old ken doll
in
a dream house
full
of naked barbies
with
snarly hair
no
names
no
vagina
i
think of his children
his
daughter telling him
that
she is getting married
to
a special someone
from
massachusetts
liberal
black
native
american
and
her name is tanya
i
hope she smiles
and
tells him
that
she is not trying
to
sell him
anything
that
she will have a child or two
that
he can share time
with
his family
and
love them
if
he chooses to take a risk
for
once in his life
and
give his consent
right
now
