tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765970379462364539.post7720944846810787711..comments2016-11-03T16:24:00.387-07:00Comments on poem.: Our Second Poem: My Name by Aimee NezhukumatathilUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765970379462364539.post-63371618223153410322008-02-09T06:56:00.000-08:002008-02-09T06:56:00.000-08:00Such a great interpretation, Therese! With each p...Such a great interpretation, Therese! With each person's interpretation of a poem, I learn so much more about the piece, and see so much more myself.<BR/><BR/>Once, again, thank you everyone, for participating in this project with us.jillypoethttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14951224240914478371noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765970379462364539.post-16743208300468585492008-02-08T11:53:00.000-08:002008-02-08T11:53:00.000-08:00From Therese Broderick--One of the conference prog...From Therese Broderick--One of the conference programs I attended last week was a panel discussion about a newly published book of essays, each one of which discusses just one word. This poem, too, discusses just one word, unfolding it layer by layer, unpacking its etymology, riffing on its denotations and connotations. But in this case, the word is a special kind of word: a proper name. And isn't all poetry about naming? In this poem, the images introduced one by one (seemingly in loose association) throughout the poem eventually coalesce tightly at the end of the poem: in the last image, the swimmer has pink shells in her hair, and her hair brushes between the blue ocean and the blue sky; similarly, the poem begins with her written name brushing against the dotted lines (which I remember as being pink) in between the two blue lines. In the last image, she is traveling the water (as in a canoe), breathing and smelling with her nose (as in Nez). In effect, in the last image, she has become her name. She embodies the word. In the beginning was the word, which moved upon the waters. (I'm not being evangelical here, just poetic.)Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765970379462364539.post-47225683841983029622008-02-06T19:56:00.000-08:002008-02-06T19:56:00.000-08:00What drew me to this poem initially was its simpli...What drew me to this poem initially was its simplicity. Such a simple thing--a name. Such a simple question--what's your name? But this is anything but a simple poem. Every word is meant to be there, every image is concrete, almost universal. It is a poem we can all relate to.<BR/><BR/>Everytime I read this there is a little voice (my muse, maybe) chiming in, oh yes, there's an idea for a poem. Oh, yes, that's good. I like poems that make me think in terms of what I might write some day, poems that inspire me. <BR/><BR/>Yes! The "fat pencil and paper" with "two strong sky blue lines" are such great, concrete images.<BR/><BR/>I also like the "trivia" about names in New Guinea, nez means nose in french, the flower from the South Indian coast. We all search, in some degree, for meaning in our names, in ourselves. Where do we come from, what does our name mean, and in the searching, what do we mean.<BR/><BR/>This poem has so many layers. What keeps bringing me back and back to it is how it reads so simply, so effortlessly. It opens, not to use a cliche, like a flower...jillypoethttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14951224240914478371noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765970379462364539.post-41494209848040594442008-02-06T18:32:00.000-08:002008-02-06T18:32:00.000-08:00First of all, her book will be my next purchase! ...First of all, her book will be my next purchase! I like her voice and images. <BR/><BR/>Who can't relate to those fat lines when we first learned how to write our names? I love her description of this!<BR/><BR/>And names, our names, are so important! A couple weeks ago, my granddaughter, Kylie, who just turned 2 in December, was visiting along with my son's two dogs, Bailey and Kaylee. Kylie and I have nicknames for them, Bails and Kaykays. I was in the kitchen and Kylie ran into the room saying, "Hi, Grandma!" and I said "Hi, Kykys" back to her. She pulled up short, wrinkled her face, and said, "I am Kylie!" It tickled me that she has such a sense of self!<BR/><BR/>That's what I got out of this poem: pride in ourselves and our names. It doesn't matter what we look like, if our hair is a mess, our names are our names and we are all worthy.Linda Jacobshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14459940700516084069noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765970379462364539.post-51673889696478669222008-02-03T12:45:00.000-08:002008-02-03T12:45:00.000-08:00what brings me into this poem is how who we are bo...what brings me into this poem is how who we are bounces off the people around us and comes back to us in a different form, how there can be so much distance (an ocean) between who we are and where we are, between the different pieces of ourselves, how we dream about what is our essence. <BR/><BR/>from a "mechanics" point of view, i love how things in this poem move, travel, journey.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com