W.S Merwin by SKYLER REYNOLDS https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw poetry project en-us 2017-09-26 03:47:30 UTC 2018-01-09 20:09:02 UTC hello@padlet.com TERM skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/191088977 At the last minute a word is waiting
not heard that way before and not to be
repeated or ever be remembered
one that always had been a household word
used in speaking of the ordinary
everyday recurrences of living
not newly chosen or long considered
or a matter for comment afterward
who would ever have thought it was the one
saying itself from the beginning through
all its uses and circumstances to
utter at last that meaning of its own
for which it had long been the only word
though it seems now that any word would do]]> 2017-09-26 03:57:40 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/191088977 Any Time skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/191089121 How long ago the day is
when at last I look at it
with the time it has taken
to be there still in it
now in the transparent light
with the flight in the voices
the beginning in the leaves
everything I remember
and before it before me
present at the speed of light
in the distance that I am
who keep reaching out to it
seeing all the time faster
where it has never stirred from
before there is anything
the darkness thinking the light]]> 2017-09-26 03:59:07 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/191089121 skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/191089223 I think the poem is explaining that when people think and hear one thing, while others may hear and think another. It does not have rhyming or personification. It could be a metaphor for life and how you use or "live" and finish when the word ends]]> 2017-09-26 03:59:59 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/191089223 skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/191531297 The poem is very obscure with figurative language. The leaves are possibly a metaphor for a new beginning and how people doe and are reborn. It also reminds me of how many years of living can just be a few worthwhile memories. ]]> 2017-09-27 06:06:25 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/191531297 Before the flood skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/192852211 Why did he promise me
that we would build ourselves
an ark all by ourselves
out in back of the house
on New York Avenue
in Union City New Jersey
to the singing of the streetcars
after the story
of Noah whom nobody
believed about the waters
that would rise over everything
when I told my father
I wanted us to build
an ark of our own there
in the back yard under
the kitchen could we do that
he told me that we could
I want to I said and will we
he promised me that we would
why did he promise that
I wanted us to start then
nobody will believe us
I said that we are building
an ark because the rains
are coming and that was true
nobody ever believed
we would build an ark there
nobody would believe
that the waters were coming]]> 2017-10-02 05:09:19 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/192852211 skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/192852245 The poem used metaphor in saying that the flood was the same as a lot of rain. the "kid" wanted to build a shelter or an "ark" to protect him from the rain. They use imagery to describe the ark and flood. They also made the storm be the flood]]> 2017-10-02 05:10:01 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/192852245 Green fields skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193257960 By this part of the century few are left who believe
    in the animals for they are not there in the carved parts
of them served on plates and the pleas from the slatted trucks
    are sounds of shadows that possess no future
there is still game for the pleasure of killing
    and there are pets for the children but the lives that followed
courses of their own other than ours and older
    have been migrating before us some are already
far on the way and yet Peter with his gaunt cheeks
    and point of white beard the face of an aged Lawrence
Peter who had lived on from another time and country
    and who had seen so many things set out and vanish
still believed in heaven and said he had never once
    doubted it since his childhood on the farm in the days
of the horses he had not doubted it in the worst
    times of the Great War and afterward and he had come
to what he took to be a kind of earthly
    model of it as he wandered south in his sixties
by that time speaking the language well enough
    for them to make him out he took the smallest roads
into a world he thought was a thing of the past
    with wildflowers he scarcely remembered and neighbors
working together scything the morning meadows
    turning the hay before the noon meal bringing it in
by milking time husbandry and abundance
    all the virtues he admired and their reward bounteous
in the eyes of a foreigner and there he remained
    for the rest of his days seeing what he wanted to see
until the winter when he could no longer fork
    the earth in his garden and then he gave away
his house land everything and committed himself
    to a home to die in an old chateau where he lingered
for some time surrounded by those who had lost
    the use of body or mind and as he lay there he told me
that the wall by his bed opened almost every day
    and he saw what was really there and it was eternal life
as he recognized at once when he saw the gardens
    he had made and the green fields where he had been
a child and his mother was standing there then the wall would close
    and around him again were the last days of the world]]> 2017-10-03 03:05:45 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193257960 skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193258125 The poem is deep and explains someones life. It explains his past and the things he has seen through his long years of living. It uses imagery to explain the grassy fields and the farm he grew up on. ]]> 2017-10-03 03:07:01 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193258125 Unknown bird skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193258708 Out of the dry days
through the dusty leaves
far across the valley
those few notes never
heard here before

one fluted phrase
floating over its
wandering secret
all at once wells up
somewhere else

and is gone before it
goes on fallen into
its own echo leaving
a hollow through the air
that is dry as before

where is it from
hardly anyone
seems to have noticed it
so far but who now
would have been listening

it is not native here
that may be the one
thing we are sure of
it came from somewhere
else perhaps alone

so keeps on calling for
no one who is here
hoping to be heard
by another of its own
unlikely origin

trying once more the same few
notes that began the song
of an oriole last heard
years ago in another
existence there

it goes again tell
no one it is here
foreign as we are
who are filling the days
with a sound of our own]]> 2017-10-03 03:11:56 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193258708 skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193258809 This poem explains what may happen whilst a bird sings its song. It gives the song a life and adventure explaining how it goes through the hills and comes from unknown origin. ]]> 2017-10-03 03:12:45 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193258809 Vehicles skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193269202 This is a place on the way after the distances
          can no longer be kept straight here in this dark corner
of the barn a mound of wheels has convened along
          raveling courses to stop in a single moment
and lie down as still as the chariots of the Pharaohs
          some in pairs that rolled as one over the same roads
to the end and never touched each other until they
          arrived here some that broke by themselves and were left
until they could be repaired some that went only
          to occasions before my time and some that have spun
across other countries through uncounted summers
          now they go all the way back together the tall
cobweb-hung models of galaxies in their rings
          of rust leaning against the stone hail from Rene's
manure cart the year he wanted to store them here
          because there was nobody left who could make them like that
in case he should need them and there are the carriage wheels
          that Merot said would be worth a lot some day
and the rim of the spare from bald Bleret's green Samson
          that rose like Borobudur out of the high grass
behind the old house by the river where he stuffed]]> 2017-10-03 04:54:38 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193269202 skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193269744 This poem explains how age changes things, like the wagon to the car. The poem doesn't rhyme. it uses imagery when it explains the pharoahs cart. ]]> 2017-10-03 05:00:21 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193269744 The Speed of Light skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193613867 So gradual in those summers was the going
          of the age it seemed that the long days setting out
when the stars faded over the mountains were not
          leaving us even as the birds woke in full song and the dew
glittered in the webs it appeared then that the clear morning
          opening into the sky was something of ours
to have and keep and that the brightness we could not touch
          and the air we could not hold had come to be there all the time
for us and would never be gone and that the axle
          we did not hear was not turning when the ancient car
coughed in the roofer's barn and rolled out echoing
          first thing into the lane and the only tractor
in the village rumbled and went into its rusty
          mutterings before heading out of its lean-to
into the cow pats and the shadow of the lime tree
          we did not see that the swallows flashing and the sparks
of their cries were fast in the spokes of the hollow
          wheel that was turning and turning us taking us
all away as one with the tires of the baker's van
          where the wheels of bread were stacked like days in calendars
coming and going all at once we did not hear
          the rim of the hour in whatever we were saying
or touching all day we thought it was there and would stay
          it was only as the afternoon lengthened on its
dial and the shadows reached out farther and farther
          from everything that we began to listen for what
might be escaping us and we heard high voices ringing
          the village at sundown calling their animals home
and then the bats after dark and the silence on its road]]> 2017-10-03 19:09:53 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193613867 skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193699909 He uses imagery to explain the roofers barn and the only tractor in the village. He also might use this poem as a metaphor as how fast ages go and how it is like the speed of light. ]]> 2017-10-04 03:40:57 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193699909 End of a Day skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193700925 In the long evening of April through the cool light
          Bayle's two sheep dogs sail down the lane like magpies
for the flock a moment before he appears near the oaks
          a stub of a man rolling as he approaches
smiling and smiling and his dogs are afraid of him
          we stand among the radiant stones looking out over
green lucent wheat and earth combed red under bare walnut limbs
          bees hanging late in cowslips and lingering bird cherry
stumps and brush that were the grove of hazel trees
          where the land turns above the draped slopes and the valley
filled with its one sunbeam and we exchange a few questions
          as though nothing were different but he has bulldozed the upland
pastures and the shepherds' huts into piles of rubble
          and has his sheep fenced in everyone's meadows now
the smell of box and damp leaves drifts from the woods where a blackbird
          is warning of nightfall Bayle has plans to demolish
the ancient walls of the lane and level it wide
          so that trucks can go all the way down to where the lambs
with perhaps two weeks to live are waiting for him at the wire
          he hurries toward them while the sun sinks and the hour
turns chill as iron and in the oaks the first nightingales
          of the year kindle their unapproachable voices]]> 2017-10-04 03:48:53 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193700925 skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193700989 Simile when he says "the dogs sailing down LIKE magpies". Lots of his poems have to do with farms. ]]> 2017-10-04 03:49:21 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/193700989 Another River skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194134944 The friends have gone home far up the valley
of that river into whose estuary
the man from England sailed in his own age
in time to catch sight of the late forests
furring in black the remotest edges
of the majestic water always it
appeared to me that he arrived just as
an evening was beginning and toward the end
of summer when the converging surface
lay as a single vast mirror gazing
upward into the pearl light that was
already stained with the first saffron
of sunset on which the high wavering trails
of migrant birds flowed southward as though there were
no end to them the wind had dropped and the tide
and the current for a moment seemed to hang
still in balance and the creaking and knocking
of wood stopped all at once and the known voices
died away and the smells and rocking
and starvation of the voyage had become
a sleep behind them as they lay becalmed
on the reflection of their Half Moon
while the sky blazed and then the tide lifted them
up the dark passage they had no name for]]> 2017-10-05 02:33:54 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194134944 Remembering skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194136401 There are threads of old sound heard over and over
phrases of Shakespeare or Mozart the slender
wands of the auroras playing out from them
into dark time the passing of a few
migrants high in the night far from the ancient flocks
far from the rest of the words far from the instruments]]> 2017-10-05 02:48:20 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194136401 skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194139151 He used metaphor to tell how the river had always been there and had seen so many boats go by. He uses imagery to explain the night water as a mirror.]]> 2017-10-05 03:11:49 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194139151 skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194139423 metaphor? He is talking about how we are still doing exactly what Shakespeare and Mozart are. we play their music and acting plays]]> 2017-10-05 03:14:22 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194139423 Air skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194550275 Naturally it is night.
Under the overturned lute with its
One string I am going my way
Which has a strange sound.

This way the dust, that way the dust.
I listen to both sides
But I keep right on.
I remember the leaves sitting in judgment
And then winter.

I remember the rain with its bundle of roads.
The rain taking all its roads.
Nowhere.

]]> 2017-10-06 03:46:07 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194550275 skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194550311 The rain could be symbolism for how the lute player had nowhere to go, he just went along with things just like the rain. ]]> 2017-10-06 03:46:35 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194550311 Animals skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194550404 All these years behind windows 
With blind crosses sweeping the tables 

And myself tracking over empty ground 
Animals I never saw 

I with no voice 

Remembering names to invent for them 
Will any come back will one 

Saying yes 

Saying look carefully yes 
We will meet again


]]> 2017-10-06 03:47:46 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194550404 skylerreynolds https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194550432 This poem might be about death and how none of his animals will come back. He may have named ever one of them but eventually they all die. ]]> 2017-10-06 03:48:08 UTC https://padlet.com/skylerreynolds/8lrtetfxb6kw/wish/194550432