Vultures

As a 14 year old ‘know it all student’ I thought that if a poem didn’t rhyme it wasn’t worthy of the title poem, I first laid my eyes on Vultures by Chinua Achebe in my English class and wasn’t overly impressed. I thought that it was a mere comparison between a bird and a human with vivid descriptions of their similar attributes included in between. But it wasn’t until I read this poem again a year ago that I really started to understand its true meaning and appreciate the absolute brilliance behind it. The poem is broken up into four sections; they are not stanzas but the ellipses make it clear where the sections begin and end. I’m going to quickly go through each section individually and analyze my favourite parts and pick out aspects I find interesting and by the end you will hopefully see why this specific poem truly made me open my eyes and appreciate the art that is poetry.

In the greyness

and drizzle of one despondent

dawn unstirred by harbingers

of sunbreak a vulture

perching high on broken

bones of a dead tree

nestled close to his

mate his smooth

bashed-in head, a pebble

on a stem rooted in

a dump of gross

feathers, inclined affectionately

to hers. Yesterday they picked

the eyes of a swollen

corpse in a water-logged

trench and ate the

things in its bowel. Full

gorged they chose their roost

keeping the hollowed remnant

in easy range of cold

telescopic eyes...

Achebe sets the scene so well in this first section, he uses alliteration like the ‘'drizzle of one despondent dawn” to make the reader really feel the depressed atmosphere, especially when followed up with statements such as “unstirred by harbingers of sun break” that inform us that there is no light. He again uses alliteration and a metaphor when he compares the branch to a “broken bone” this not only reinforces bleakness but also informs us that the vultures are in fact in feeding season. We surprising see the first sign of affection in this beginning section when the male vulture is “nestled close to his mate” but it is soon contrasted with a negative description of him “his smooth bashed-in head, a pebble, on a stem rooted in a dump of gross feathers”. His body is by no means nice but we quickly see a glimmer of affection again when his head is “Inclined affectionately to hers”.  However, any sign of gentleness is out the window by the end of this section as Achebe ends with vivid description of what the vultures did the day before, “picked the eyes” of the “swollen corpse” and were “fully gorged” on the animals intestines. After reading this first section you are intrigued to see where this poem is going and what it is leading too.

Strange

indeed how love in other

ways so particular

will pick a corner

in that charnel-house

tidy it and coil up there, perhaps

even fall asleep - her face

turned to the wall!

The start of the second section couldn’t be more different from the first; Achebe begins with the word “strange” on its own line. We find out that what he finds strange is that love is predominately “so particular” and almost all about looks these days, but not it this specific case. We learn that love can be felt in a “charnel house” which is where they keep all the bodies and bones are kept and Achebe even takes it to the extreme of saying that she could “perhaps fall asleep” there. This definitely marks a shift in the poem and couldn’t be a more contrasting change of direction. Also, do you find it interesting that he dedicated a whole section to this and only this?

...Thus the Commandant at Belsen

Camp going home for

the day with fumes of

human roast clinging

rebelliously to his hairy

nostrils will stop

at the wayside sweet-shop

and pick up a chocolate

for his tender offspring

waiting at home for Daddy's

return...

In section 3 we see a crossing of paths between the vulgar nature of section 1 and the love shown in section 2. Achebe begins describing the Commandant that works at the German concentration camp and uses descriptions such as “with fumes of human roast clinging rebelliously to his hairy nostrils”. To me personally the word ‘rebelliously’ gives off the impression that these fumes refuse to leave him even after he has left work, this could very well be symbolic of not only his smell but his actions also. However when he leaves work he stops off to get his “tender offspring” chocolate thus connecting back to the affection shown between the vultures even after they had committed horrific acts.

Praise bounteous

providence if you will

that grants even an ogre

a tiny glow-worm

tenderness encapsulated

in icy caverns of a cruel

heart or else despair

for in the very germ

of that kindred love is

lodged the perpetuity

of evil.

In the final section of vultures I feel that Achebe is giving us some options for an alternative ending or shall we say, what we want to take away from the poem. He does this through two metaphors, the first being the idea that we should rejoice that an “ogre” has “a tiny glow-worm tenderness” thus focusing on the goodness of the Commandant or do we dwell on the fact his love is 'encapsulated in icy caverns of a cruel heart”. The choice is ours for the taking, which interpretation or side do you take after reading the poem? Could we go so far and ask…do we look for any ounce of goodness in a person even when their actions are atrocious or do we overlook any acts of kindness when darkness is the most dominant feature?

What I got from this poem is that good and evil sit side by side and there is a very fine line between the both of them, I think that this is emphasized in the free verse style of the poem with the variety of sentence length and structure, there is in total fifty-one lines but in fact only six sentences. Achebe does this so that he can combine both love and evil in the same sentence so they exist together, just like they do in real life. In conclusion I find it interesting that although he is making a point of these two attributes existing together, he is by no means putting this forward as one of his ending options, he is making use choose one or the other, not a bit of bad but mostly good, its all or nothing. This echoes my similar Latter-Day Saint beliefs in that we cannot be fence sitters, soon we will have to chose one side or the other. It emphasizes this in Matthew 6:24 “No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon.”

She Walks In Beauty: A "Few" Thoughts

Why on earth do I like Poetry? This is something that I ask myself nearly everyday. Half of the time I don't even understand it. Nevertheless, I have resigned myself to accept the fact that poetry makes me feel unlike anything else. One of the first poems I read that motivated me to read more poetry was Lord Byron's "She Walks In Beauty." I had never really "gotten" the concept of poetry and how it could benefit my life until I sat down and really took a look at this poem. I came to understand how (1) to find the deeper meanings of a poem and (2) that one could learn and understand so much from the simple aesthetic beauty of a poem. 

On a summer night in June 1814, a short glimpse of a strikingly

George Gordon, Lord Byron

beautiful woman caught the eye of Lord Byron. Such was the intensity of her beauty that Byron was inspired to pen a tribute. Now, I know what you're thinking: "That has to be the cheesiest thing I've ever heard." This is true. However, knowing a little about Byron and his "escapades" tells us that this girl must have been exceptionally. . .for lack of a better word: HOT! So, here is why I like it. 

“She Walks in Beauty” masterfully examines the harmonious marriage between light and dark and the splendor that this contrast creates as represented by the unadulterated woman framed in darkness. The poem is saturated with binary opposites that keenly express the contrasting loveliness of light and dark and encourage the imagination to envision the extent of the woman's beauty. Byron passionately uses the beautiful harmony of light and dark in order to effectively articulate the immortal impression that the woman’s light, purity and beauty have left on his own dark and troubled soul.

            

Found It!

 

Don't you love that feeling after you have looked for something for a few days and finally find it?  I know what you are thinking and no, it wasn't this picture.  I had nearly given up hope of ever remembering what Sylvia Plath poem it was that I analyzed at age 18 in my high school English class (I discussed this poem in a previous post), but my diligence has finally paid off.  I first came across this poem rather serendipitously, picking it at random out of a stack my teacher had made available to the class.  I acknowledge my first reaction to the poem was a bit of dazed bewilderment.  This soon transformed into that raptured awe that Marie Howe describes so well "Be completely open-innocent, if you will, of a poem.  Walk in, just like it's water, and say, 'what's this?' And read it over and over again.... Read with that kind of ignorant joy, and let yourself be bewildered when you're bewildered."

So I allowed myself to be perplexed, to gaze in wonderment of the violent imagery, the denseness of both simile and metaphor, and the overall anguished voice trying to convey anguish of which no one else will ever understand.  The free verse felt inviting to me.  It said "I am straight forward, I am not holding anything back, these are my true, unadulterated feelings".  For me, this made Words more relatable than a fixed form poem and much more intriguing than any other piece of verse I had ever encountered.  I wanted to dissect it and put the puzzle back together. 

After reading over her poem a few times I knew I would have to do a little extra research to get a firmer grip on what the poem was trying to say.  So I read a brief biography of Plath and an analysis of the poem.  As I write this post I remember very little of the analysis except that she writing mainly about her father.  I have a great relationship with my dad.  I was not one of those kids that got made fun of a lot in high school.  So why did I relate to this poem?  Plath had the sort of passion for her poetry that I wanted for my own life.  She put her whole, undivided soul into her poetry.  She put her life on the line, insomuch that eventually it got the better of her and she took her own life.