These are three poems that I have narrowed down to explicate (or analyse), and I think I get the jist of them, however if anyone could help in the explication and understanding of the poems, and what they're trying to get across, I would very much appreciate it. They are the The School Globe by James Reaney (my personal favourite), Britain Street by Alden Nowlan, and Sounds of Silence by Paul Simon (and Garfunkel). If you mind throwing out anything to help, thanks. If not, no biggie.
The School Globe
Sometimes when I hold
Our faded old globe
That we used at school
To see where oceans were
And the five continents,
The lines of latitude and longitude,
The North Pole, the Equator and the South Pole â€â€
Sometimes when I hold this
Wrecked blue cardboard pumpkin
I think: here in my hands
Rest the fair fields and lands
Of my childhood
Where still lie or still wander
Old games, tops and pets;
A house where I was little
And afraid to swear
Because God might hear and
Send a bear
To eat me up;
Rooms where I was as old
As I was high;
Where I loved the pink clenches,
The white, red and pink fists
Of roses; where I watched the rain
That Heaven’s clouds threw down
in puddles and rutfuls
And irregular mirrors
Of soft brown glass upon the ground.
This school globe is a parcel of my past,
A basket of pluperfect things.
And here I stand with it
Sometime in the summertime
All alone in an empty schoolroom
Where about me hang
Old maps, an abacus, pictures,
Blackboards, empty desks.
If I raise my hand
No tall teacher will demand
What I want.
But if someone in authority
Were here, I’d say
Give me this old world back
Whose husk I clasp
And I’ll give you in exchange
The great sad real one
That’s filled
Not with a child’s remembered and pleasant skies
But with blood, pus, horror, death, stepmothers, and lies.
By James Reaney
Britain Street
This is a street at war.
The smallest children
battle with clubs
till the blood comes,
shout 'fuck you!'
like a rallying cry--
while mothers shriek
from doorsteps and windows
as though the very names
of their young were curses:
'Brian! Marlene!
Damn you! God damn you!'
or waddle into the street
to beat their own with switches:
'I'll teach you, Brian!
I'll teach you, God damn you!'
On this street
even the dogs
would rather fight
than eat.
I have lived her nine months
and in all that time
have never once heard
a gentle word spoken.
I like to tell myself
that is only because
gentle words are whispered
and harsh words shouted.
By Alden Nowlan
Sounds of Silence
Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence
"Fools", said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls"
And whispered in the sounds of silence
I'm also contemplating doing 'Because I Could Not Stop for Death' by Emily Dickinson, so you can help there as well.
PEACE, Mike