The Mother - An abortion can be a traumatic experience for some women. I believe that every woman that goes through that experience will always have the presence of her child in her mind. They killed an innocent life. No one has the right to take away somebody else’s right to live and choose. Too bad that those innocent beings can’t have the right to choose whether to live or die. In the poem The Mother by Gwendolyn Brooks we come across with this particular subject: abortion. Brooks describes the feelings of a mother that decided to abort her baby and how she regrets of doing such a crime.
Alone – Just imagine yourself living a world without friends or people that care about you. It would be a dull and lonely place to live. The poem Alone by Maya Angelou represents how people need affection from other people. People can’t jus live in a world where nobody cares for no one. Even if you are poor but if you have someone that cares about you that’s enough. As Angelou stated there are people with a lot of money but without a happy life they just live a miserable life because they don’t even have time to spend with their love ones. The only thing these people care is about making and saving money for a future. You need to enjoy what you have in the present because you never know what is going to happen in the future. The words in this poem are so powerful and kind of easy to analyze because people can easily relate to some time in their lives to the emotional state of loneliness.
Destiny – It’s really easy to kill what we love just not to kill ourselves. We can hate and love at the same time. We can love with hate. It’s like a love+hate relationship. Monotony, Infidelity, apathy, etc can kill love, but love can still survive but not with the same strength that had at the beginning of a relationship. This is how an affectionate relationship turn into a love hate relationship, you can still love your partner but you can never forget the flaws of love. Love doesn’t stay the same it just simply transforms that’s when we start to kill Love. Affectionate love doesn’t last forever.
Poetry
The Mother
by Gwendolyn Brooks
Abortions will not let you forget.
You remember the children you got that you did not get,
The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair,
The singers and workers that never handled the air.
You will never neglect or beat
Them, or silence or buy with a sweet.
You will never wind up the sucking-thumb
Or scuttle off ghosts that come.
You will never leave them, controlling your luscious sigh,
Return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.
I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim killed
children.
I have contracted. I have eased
My dim dears at the breasts they could never suck.
I have said, Sweets, if I sinned, if I seized
Your luck
And your lives from your unfinished reach,
If I stole your births and your names,
Your straight baby tears and your games,
Your stilted or lovely loves, your tumults, your marriages, aches,
and your deaths,
If I poisoned the beginnings of your breaths,
Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate.
Though why should I whine,
Whine that the crime was other than mine?--
Since anyhow you are dead.
Or rather, or instead,
You were never made.
But that too, I am afraid,
Is faulty: oh, what shall I say, how is the truth to be said?
You were born, you had body, you died.
It is just that you never giggled or planned or cried.
Believe me, I loved you all.
Believe me, I knew you, though faintly, and I loved, I loved you
All.
From A Street in Bronzeville by Gwendolyn Brooks, published by Harper & Brothers. © 1945 by Gwendolyn Brooks. Used with permission. All rights reserved
Alone
by Maya Angelou
Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Destiny
by Rosario Castellanos
Destiny
We kill what we love. What’s left
Was never alive.
No one else is close. What is forgotten,
What else is absent or less, hurts no one else.
We kill what we love. Enough of drawing a choked breath
Through someone else’s lung!
There is not air enough for both of us. And the earth will not hold
Both our bodies
And our ration of hope is small
And pain cannot be shared.
Man is an animal of solitudes,
A deer that bleeds as it flees
With an arrow in its side.
Ah, but hatred with its insomniac
Glass eyes; its attitude
Of menace and repose.
The deer goes to drink and a tiger
Is reflected in the water.
The deer drinks the water and the image. And becomes
-before he is devoured – (accomplice, fascinated)
his enemy.
We give life only to what we hate.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
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