For this week's poetry response, I am supposed to try a new strategy. I decided to look at elements of a poem that I do not normally look at right away. I started reading the poem altogether looking for the tone and finding the speaker, looked at the figurative language next, and then I tried to understand the meaning of the poem.
Blackberries for Amelia
Fringing the woods, the stone walls, and the lanes,
Old thickets everywhere have come alive,
Their new leaves reaching out in fans of five
From tangles overarched by this year's canes.
They have their flowers too, it being June,
And here or there in brambled dark-and-light
Are small, five-petaled blooms of chalky white,
As random-clustered and as loosely strewn
As the far stars, of which we now are told
That ever faster do they bolt away,
And that a night may come in which, some say,
We shall have only blackness to behold.
I have no time for any change so great,
But I shall see the August weather spur
Berries to ripen where the flowers were—
Dark berries, savage-sweet and worth the wait—
And there will come the moment to be quick
And save some from the birds, and I shall need
Two pails, old clothes in which to stain and bleed,
And a grandchild to talk with while we pick.
Old thickets everywhere have come alive,
Their new leaves reaching out in fans of five
From tangles overarched by this year's canes.
They have their flowers too, it being June,
And here or there in brambled dark-and-light
Are small, five-petaled blooms of chalky white,
As random-clustered and as loosely strewn
As the far stars, of which we now are told
That ever faster do they bolt away,
And that a night may come in which, some say,
We shall have only blackness to behold.
I have no time for any change so great,
But I shall see the August weather spur
Berries to ripen where the flowers were—
Dark berries, savage-sweet and worth the wait—
And there will come the moment to be quick
And save some from the birds, and I shall need
Two pails, old clothes in which to stain and bleed,
And a grandchild to talk with while we pick.
First off, with the title "Blackberries for Amelia," I thought it could be a love poem where a guy gives a girl blackberries to show his affection. I was way off, but I am allowed to make mistakes. After reading the poem, I decided the tone could be reminiscent or nostalgic. I felt like the speaker (who I pictured as an old grandpa) reflected back at a happier time of the past. Plus, the speaker does not seem to want to look at the future, but only to the past and maybe present.
Some figurative language I saw was personification, imagery, simile, metaphor, and alliteration. Wilbur writes "Old thickets everywhere have come alive." The personification in this line helps me see the blackberries as more than blackberries that I eat or put in a smoothie, but as something more like a happy memory or reflection. I am a very visual person so the imagery "And here or there in brambled dark-and-light Are small, five petalled blooms of chalky white" helps me feel and see the poem. I need to be able to imagine the poem to understand it. Also, the metaphor of the blackberries and the simile "As random-clustered and as loosely strewn As the far stars" help me see the blackberries as something different. Finally, the alliteration of "Dark berries, savage-sweet and worth the wait" helps me understand the importance of patience and waiting for things.
Overall, I think the speaker of the poem uses the blackberries as a way to reflect on the past. The speaker uses the time length from June to August (summer), so I feel like he takes things one season at a time like some people take one day at a time. I think the Amelia of the title is the grandchild the speaker describes at the end; something the speaker always looked forward to was spending quality time with his grandchild while picking blackberries. Sometimes I feel like people avoid the past or only remember the big moments (happy or tragic), but I like how Wilbur describes a small scale memory that brings joy to the reader. Plus, the speaker has to wait for the time for the blackberries to ripen, so the event seems even more special after a long, patient wait. I hope my grandma remembers (happily) spending time with me as we ate scones and read together like the speaker does with his grandchild and picking blackberries.
My first thoughts were as a love poem, too. In a sense it is...but a totally different kind of love. :) I picture a grandpa as well. I think your last line is really nice. "I hope my grandma remembers (happily) spending time with me as we ate scones and read together like the speaker does with his grandchild and picking blackberries." I hope so, too!
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