Elizabeth Bishop, Questions Of Travel (Reading Reaction)

This poem brings up the idea of travelling, and why people should travel versus staying home. People travel all over the world to see “rare” sights and objects, but why? While Bishop never tells the reader what to think and allows them to come to the conclusion on the benefits of travelling, this is still a highly effective poem. It left me thinking about why I like to travel. I like to experience new places, cultures, and meet new people, and I would not be able to accomplish this at home.

          Bishop begins her poem with imagery of waterfalls, alluring the reader into wanting to see the waterfall, to experience its beauty. When I read the opening stanza of the poem I thought Bishop was going to encourage readers to travel as often as possible and see as many “waterfalls” as they could, but then she talks about staying at home and imagining the waterfall instead.

          I particularly enjoyed when Bishop seemed to contradict herself when she would describe an image of travel, glorify it, and then ask if it is really necessary to go and see it versus imagining it at home. I could use this technique in my writing to make it more mysterious, by not telling the reader what I want them to think, and allowing them to decide for themselves.

          Questions Of Travel is an effective work, making the reader question what the poem is trying to tell them. Personally, I do not like reading something that tells me what the answer is, which may explain why I enjoy works by Plato. To me, this piece is effective and powerful because it leaves me to determine what the author is trying to say.

My Six Billion Secrets

Hello, my assignment was to write a poem inspired by the website Six Billion Secrets. Below is the post that inspired me, and the work that came from it!

Post:

They say girls always hold grudges to the end.

But when I’m mad at someone for something

I make lists.

I list all the things they do/did to me that make me mad

But it always ends up with me making a list of what makes them such a great person.

We may not be friends but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re amazing.

 

Poem:

1) You cheated on me

“Please don’t” was my plea

2) You never call

Never showed up when I was dressed up like a doll

3) I try to talk to you

To ask you why you’re so blue

All you say is “I’m fine”

And I can see that the fault is all mine

 

4) But your kind heart

Sweet as a blueberry tart

5) And then there’s your laugh

I could listen to it

For the length of a game

Or just the first half

 

Ever since our first kiss

It always comes back to this

No matter what you do

I’m still in love with you…

Zoomed in train station

Mounds of grey and brown rocks beneath the metal tracks. They create a path for travelling. Cigarette butts strewn over the rocks, tossed aside by their owners once their foul smell is extinguished. The taste of the leftover cigarette put out, like its insignificant flame.  The smooth rocks interrupted by the company of the cigarettes. Grey and brown, with the disturbance of the unpleasant tan color. The rocks aren’t disturbed by the trampling of feet, only the garbage mingled within it.

Why I Dislike Writing Poetry

 

I’d rather write prose

The right thing to say, who knows?

Poetry isn’t easy

It usually ends up too cheesy

Including a cliché

A summary of your day

Looking for inspiration in your front yard

Poetry is just too hard

Limerick

Once upon a time I was in love
Our hands fit together like a glove
We'd stay up late into the night
Everything felt so right
Then it all ended with a shove

Taking a few Characters out to Dinner

This is a short paragraph inspired by the book “Handle with Care”, written by Jodi Picoult.     

The family was seated at a large booth in the local Chinese restaurant. They didn’t usually eat meals together unless they went to a restaurant and were forced into having quality family time. The talk was minimal and awkward at best until the waiter began to bring out their meal: plates full of pork fried rice, steamy sesame beef, simple white rice, spicy orange chicken, and their famous scrumptious egg flour soup. Instantly it was if they were a family again, not a congregation of strangers forced to spend time together. They were asking each other to pass plates of this or that food, loading out portions of soup for one another. At one point the dad asked the youngest son if he would like some of the orange chicken dish, which lifted the boy’s spirits since that was the nicest thing his father had said to him since… well, the last time they ate at a restaurant together.

The Night I Got Ditched

          So there I found myself, in the bottom of a ditch. My best friend and I were driving home from a party, one that I did not even want to attend. Evan, my best friend, thinks that I went to the party to be his designated driver. In reality I went to look after him at the party, I didn’t want to find out that he hooked up with some strange girl when I was in love with him. So how did we end up in the bottom of a ditch, while I was driving sober? 

          I’m the girl that never gets invited to those high school cliché parties, probably because I avoid that group as much as possible. Evan, on the other hand, is one of the most desirable seniors at our school, and since he is my best friend that is how I end up going to them.

          The party that was tonight was at Melody Wilson’s house, a girl who lived fifteen minutes south of town, off of a long dirt road. Of course I said yes when Evan asked I me to drive him to the party even though I completely despised these events. What was the point in getting extremely drunk and not remembering the night anyway? At least I could watch people and secretly laugh at them, and make sure Evan didn’t do anything too bad…

          I stood in front of my closet for about thirty minutes, trying to find an outfit that would catch Evan’s attention, but not make him think that I was trying too hard. When I finally settled on a simple low- cut black dress that reached to my knees, I drove over to Evan’s house to pick him up.

          The drive to the party was uneventful; we hardly even saw a car on the road. The party was nothing exciting either, lots of underage high schoolers binge drinking, making out, and grinding to obnoxiously loud music. Typical. Evan and I hung out a few times during the party, but I decided that I would rather let him have fun and not force him to try to include me. I found some people I knew from my third period history class and talked to them in the corner of the room, far enough away from the dance mob to not get stepped on, but close enough to see the ridiculous movement my generation called dancing. I danced to a few songs, trying to include myself and have a good time, but in reality I was happier watching everyone.

          Around midnight Evan decided that the party was slowing down, and that we should go to Denny’s and get late night pancakes like we usually do to end the evening. We climbed in my car, a red Honda civic, and turned off of Melody’s dirt road. We were about five miles from town on a straight stretch of road, when I noticed bright headlights coming towards us, swerving on the road, and then they settled on staying in our lane. I didn’t know what to do since the lights were getting closer, making a route of escape less likely with each passing second. The only thing I could do was hope they would get in their original lane. I honked my horn and flashed my lights at them, hoping to make them realize that they were heading straight for us, but to no avail. At the last second I swerved out of the way off of the road, Evan and I screaming until the car came to a complete stop in the ditch.

          I assessed the damage, which seemed to be fatal to my car but otherwise nothing seemed to be wrong with Evan or myself. Upon confirming our well-being, I climbed out of my broken windshield and looked around. The ditch was tall, maybe six feet in height. I looked out on the road and saw the car that was coming towards us, a black Ford F150. They hit a tree head on off of the other side of the road. They must have swerved at the last minute too. They didn’t seem to be as lucky as Evan and I.

          “Tally” Evan called from inside the car.

          “Yes, Evan?” I asked.

          “I’m so glad that we’re okay, that I was with you. You’re like my sister and I wouldn’t want to be in this situation with anyone else.”

          My heart fell.

So that’s how I found myself, in the bottom of a ditch, the guy I was in love with seeing me as his sister.