Blue Bonnet

The Color of the Grave is Green by Emily Dickinson

The Color of the Grave is Green –
The Outer Grave — I mean –
You would not know it from the Field –
Except it own a Stone –

To help the fond — to find it –
Too infinite asleep
To stop and tell them where it is –
But just a Daisy — deep –

The Color of the Grave is white –
The outer Grave — I mean –
You would not know it from the Drifts –
In Winter — till the Sun –

Has furrowed out the Aisles –
Then — higher than the Land
The little Dwelling Houses rise
Where each — has left a friend –

The Color of the Grave within –
The Duplicate — I mean –
Not all the Snows could make it white –
Not all the Summers — Green –

You’ve seen the Color — maybe –
Upon a Bonnet bound –
When that you met it with before –
The Ferret — cannot find —

*If you could just give a short discription of what this poem might mean or knows what it means that would be greatly appreciated(:

In stanza one, Dickinson uses green to recall the life that once was. She then emphasizes that only the outside of the grave is lifelike, although a passerby would not recognize it for a grave except for the headstone.

Stanza two refers to fond as a noun, which means the ground itself, and how the great length of time the earth has been "asleep" would make it impossible to explain to the dirt where the inner grave is. Yet a simple daisy, with roots reaching down far enough, can know the grave’s location.

The third stanza is both a transition of seasons signifying the passage of time and the obliteration of all recognition until the sun appears again (Spring.)

Stanza four notes, through Dickinson’s keen observation, that the first areas of snow melted by Spring sunlight in a graveyard are the aisles between the rows of graves themselves, and the fact that the graves form mounds which the poet refers to as "little Dwelling Houses." Inside each house are the remains of one who once was someone’s friend.

Stanza five at last discusses the coffin, and how it rests so deep (six feet) beneath the surface, where it is green or white depending on the season, that neither color can reach it.

The final stanza is the most difficult, on several levels. First, as bonnets long ago passed out of fashion, most people today do not realize that they were stylish and made of many colors and fabrics, most often bright and happy. Second, the hue suggested by Emily Dickinson in the conclusion of this typical if brilliant and beautiful poem is earthen — the dark browns and grays and even moldy shades found six feet under where caskets lay, and on the clothing and bonnets of mourners. Third, the odd reference to the ferret, an animal known for digging, which even with its prowess cannot penetrate the depths of the grave.

Dickinson’s epitaph, by the way, is "Called Back."

I want to learn how to sew and eventually how to make my own patterns. I would primarily be using sewing to make my own clothes (I’m really picky about what I wear, I worry about child labour and I have a really odd body shape) but I might like to make handbags and maybe a sun bonnet to protect my skin from the sun. Anyway I can’t seem to find any nearby sewing classes, I did find a tutor but I’d rather be in a communal class. Notting Hill would be fine as well as I will be moving there soon and Chelsea isn’t too far away.

Hugs, Annie

twitter.com/GreenQueenAnnie

Hello, try this book, basic guide to pattern making

Sunflower Journey

One point one miles it resides
from my house with its siblings
Planted, roadway ornaments

The largest in the contest
for who could get the most sun
it dominated its siblings
like Shaq along side DeVito

I watched it grow all summer
in my daily sojourns by
partial to these bonneted heads

With cold though came the droop
a searching for a cane sag
Earth is pulling it back down
the bonnets… faded away

I contemplate taking the head
stealing it, a wall trophy
to reclaim a memory

Instead I drive by again
It is frail and weakened now
but still standing, most defiant
Its siblings have all succumbed

I’ll watch the finish unfold…
Thankful for the lesson here
of a sunflower’s journey
‘here’ was used to keep the line at seven beats, which most are except one or two. Interesting, I will look at again, thanks Buk.

I imagined you driving by each day watching as the flower grew and then succumbed to time. I had a fascination (still do truth be told) with sunflowers as a child. There was a field by my house. Anything unusually large or small attracted me.

I love how you take the seemingly simplest of things and make a poem of them.x.

Blue flax is among my favorite flowers, what is your favorite flower?

Blue Flax

The sun is sweet to her but blisters
and so she hides through heat of day,
curled in quiet places with her sisters
where sweetly sleeping she gently sways.

She sits alongside the dusty road,
on cooler evenings when sun is set,
with her back bent and head bowed low
in a green dress and her bluest bonnet,

her golden eyes peaking out smiling.
Oh! She has such a way of beguiling!

- tony

Is it also called ‘chickory’? If so, I ALWAYS notice it – even transplanted it in my yard; some think it’s a weed; you and I know better…
Lovely tribute

Would wearing sensible shoes instead of heels throw off the public?
All I wanted to do is make you laugh,if I did that,then my task is complete.

I don’t want to find the "sensible shoes" comment funny…..but it really is!

Who will kindly read and criticize some poetry for me?
Who will kindly read and criticize some poetry for me?
Ok, so I have to put together a poetry portfolio for school(I’m 14)

Would you mnd saying which ones are your favorites, and what you would change?
thanks!

1.
Free Verse Poem

If I could be a sight to see,
I would dwell in the city of lights,
And reach up to the bright moonlight,

I would watch young lovers fall in love,
As they steal a kiss under the shadow of my being,

I will watch as the bikers ride by wearing their fashionable hats,
I wonder how one would look on me?

I’ll listen to the music,
Of the grand Carousel,
As it spins round and round,
Filling the air with children’s laughter,

I’ll over see my brilliant city,
And stand tall and proud,

People from far and wide will visit me,
Flashing their cameras and posing next to me,
As if I am the biggest star to see.

When the sun rises out of the Earth,
It will splash me with a warm, orange, hello
As it rises to its place in the sky,
To start a new day,
Mmmm is that baker’s bread I smell!

People will come day after day,
Photographers, tourists, the old lady on the park bench,
They will smile a bright hello,
As they admire my structure,
From far below,

Oh what a site I would be!

2.
Winter Breaks

The sun comes up,
The night is gone,
Trees breathe life,
As the chill loosens its grasp,
Finally! Warmth is the air,

Not so long now, till spring is here,
Winter will enjoy this lengthy break,
It will rest, and not come back,
Till Christmas time is almost,

Flowers will bloom,
The rain will poor,
Green buds will burst forth,
Oh what joy!
Yes, winter is on break.

3.
Gravel
The crunch of a homecoming,
The noise of the night,

The sound of a warm, fall day,
Walking in the forests by night,

A simple, familiar noise,
Of the crinkle of the road less traveled on,
Gravel,
An old time acquaintance.

4.
Strawberries

So sweet and fruitful,
Luscious and red,
So soft and full life
Like a child playing with a red balloon,

The tasty smell,
so pleasing to the noise,
a gentle tingling,
like a feather to the nose,

Popping in color,
as it grows out of dark, green vines
A delight to the eye,

Warm summer days,
A woven basket,
A child’s bonnet,
Small, chubby fingers,
Reach out and pluck,
The delight eye popper,
Oh what childhood joy!

thank you!!

"If I could be a sight to see" *Consider rewording this.. It doesn’t make sense to me

"lovers fall in love" *Instead of using ‘lovers’ and ‘love’ in the same line, replace one of the words with a synonym or alternative. In fact, you could omit the ‘fall in love’ part, because all lovers do fall in love

"fashionable hats" *Don’t use the word fashionable. Maybe try the word ‘voguish’ or ‘glamourous’

"Of the grand Carousel, As it spins round and round" *It is obvious that the carousel spins. So change the second line to something more poetic such as "As the horses dance round and round"

"Like a child playing with a red balloon," *I honestly don’t like this line. This is a good use of imagery, however, I don’t think this particular line works in the poem

"so pleasing to the noise" *Do you mean ‘nose’?

Overall, your poems are really good! You’re a great writer!

I need a little help with Critical Commentary of charles dickens a walk in a workhouse. I was given the following piece and i am not too sure what Critical Commentary is

could anyone please give me a few ideas what to write ?

Among this congregation, were some evil-looking young women, and beetle-browed young men; but not many – perhaps that kind of characters kept away. Generally, the faces (those of the children excepted) were depressed and subdued, and wanted colour. Aged people were there, in every variety. Mumbling, blear-eyed, spectacled, stupid, deaf, lame; vacantly winking in the gleams of sun that now and then crept in through the open doors, from the paved yard; shading their listening ears, or blinking eyes, with their withered hands; poring over their books, leering at nothing, going to sleep, crouching and drooping in corners. There were weird old women, all skeleton within, all bonnet and cloak without, continually wiping their eyes with dirty dusters of pocket- handkerchiefs; and there were ugly old crones, both male and female, with a ghastly kind of contentment upon them which was not at all comforting to see. Upon the whole, it was the dragon, Pauperism, in a very weak and impotent condition; toothless, fangless, drawing his breath heavily enough, and hardly worth chaining up.

When the service was over, I walked with the humane and conscientious gentleman whose duty it was to take that walk, that Sunday morning, through the little world of poverty enclosed within the workhouse walls. It was inhabited by a population of some fifteen hundred or two thousand paupers, ranging from the infant newly born or not yet come into the pauper world, to the old man dying on his bed.

In a room opening from a squalid yard, where a number of listless women were lounging to and fro, trying to get warm in the ineffectual sunshine of the tardy May morning – in the ‘Itch Ward,’ not to compromise the truth – a woman such as HOGARTH has often drawn, was hurriedly getting on her gown before a dusty fire. She was the nurse, or wardswoman, of that insalubrious department – herself a pauper – flabby, raw-boned, untidy – unpromising and coarse of aspect as need be. But, on being spoken to about the patients whom she had in charge, she turned round, with her shabby gown half on, half off, and fell a crying with all her might. Not for show, not querulously, not in any mawkish sentiment, but in the deep grief and affliction of her heart; turning away her dishevelled head: sobbing most bitterly, wringing her hands, and letting fall abundance of great tears, that choked her utterance. What was the matter with the nurse of the itch-ward? Oh, ‘the dropped child’ was dead! Oh, the child that was found in the street, and she had brought up ever since, had died an hour ago, and see where the little creature lay, beneath this cloth! The dear, the pretty dear!

The dropped child seemed too small and poor a thing for Death to be in earnest with, but Death had taken it; and already its diminutive form was neatly washed, composed, and stretched as if in sleep upon a box. I thought I heard a voice from Heaven saying, It shall be well for thee, O nurse of the itch-ward, when some less gentle pauper does those offices to thy cold form, that such as the dropped child are the angels who behold my Father’s face!

You need to read the piece carefully and analyse it – how does Dickens engage the reader, note the use of the first person. Also the language and adjectives used.

Note how Dickens personalizes (personifies) Pauperism as the Dragon – allowing the use of metaphors to convey the horror. death similarly personified (though not quite how Terry Pratchett would do him). Note the reference to chaining up – poverty was a crime in those days.

He alludes to Hogarth, the artist who depicts various ‘progresses’ of Victorian Life – find out about him if you don’t know already.

Note how hew depicts the lack of light in the workhouse (they were pretty gloomy places – oh, yes they still exist – often incorporated in hospitals) – just a few telling phrases.

The piece involves pathos – the rather forced final paragraph for example more reflective than the instinctive thoughts of the actual moment as he is suggesting.

lets assume you’re out jogging on a bitter cold winters morning and you notice a bunch of men in trench coats and sun glasses approaching another bunch of professionaly dressed shady figures.

You sneak behind a tree and observe the events as they unfold and one of them follows a guy to the trunk of their car and opens it. A brief case of some sort is opened and then closed again. The man seems pleased, and then he whistles at a comrade to bring a large duffel bag of some sort, unzipping it and showing its contents.

Both parties are pleased – and then out of the blue, the brief case men pull out AK-47’s and begin firing at their counter parts, the stunned duffel bag men take cover behind their vehicles and return fire with their semi-automatics and 9mm’s.

Both parties suffer heavily casualties and only a handful of men are left, injured too. A third car with a man wearing a ‘casper the ghost’ mask drives right into the brief case leader breaking his legs in the process, he gets out of his car walks up to the gang leader and fires 5 shots into his body the final one into his temple at point blank range.

now, in reality only a male would be witnessing this kind of thing because females would have nervous breakdowns or start crying.

but lets assume even a female could be witnessing this heh.

casper the ghost walks around the other vehicles and takes out a few other injured dying men (no witnesses left) and then he opens the bonnet and takes the duffel bag and drives off.

You approach the bullet ridden black lexus saloon and open the trunk and the brief case is there – you open it and to your shock, you are stareing at £500,000 in un-marked bills, neatly placed in polythene bagging.

Do you take the money and go home ?
call the police ?
leave the case and go home ?

I’d take the money heh

but what would you do in this fictitious scenario ?

Oh, that kind of cash, you’d better believe I’d be taking it. Thought I’d be making damn sure I didn’t leave any evidence behind that I was there, that’s all I need is the feds thinking I’m Casper. Maybe an anonymous tip from a payphone in an area that is completely out of my way and I will likely never visit again, but busy enough that nobody remembers a nondescript person using the telly, give them just enough to keep them interested while I take off to parts undisclosed with my new found independence.

hey again i already told you the story andi need advice just finished school walking home with a mate when the sun got in my eyes and a car hit me and the people in there were boys and they were bout 20-21 and i did’nt fall or nothing but being on a bonnet of a car is not the place you want to be everyone saw and started laughing i don’t wanna tell my parents so i just told my sister and it took a while and sed give me a clue and i said vroom vroom and she said you got hit by a car and i was like yes and she was like oh my god i though it was somethink serious and i was like wtf it is serious and i walked out and she was laughing at me and i was crying now i don’t know what to do?????

i am sorry maybe you should have told your parents and your sister should have been more concern about your accident i am sorry that you were hit by a car and hope you get better soon

Snapshot,black and white
(Julie)

Background prop winter white
groups of gray grand olden oaks,
branches laden with hours of snow.
snowflakes, fluffy falling down
glitter in the noon day sun,
in the center there she stands
stretching tall as she can,
ankle deep snow covers her white boots
power blue leggings match
her princess blue wool coat,
as does her bonnet brimmed hat,
arms reach skyward above her head
glove less hands, palms turned up
gleeful eyes of brightest brown,
lashes dusted snowy white,
cheeks are glowing rosy red
mouth ajar, tongue licking lips,
Catching snowflakes,
When, at sixteen months old.

Thank you Neon, I did not like how the ending read.
Sue she was my daughter.

There are many good poems on the board today, this one included.