Dennis Radio essay on Political Freedom

Dennis Larocque

Today is March 2, 2009, on this day in history 232 years ago American revolutionaries began to shell the British army that was blockading the city of Boston. The year 1776 is a year all Americans are familiar with. This date marked the beginning of the American Revolution which won our country political freedom and independence from Great Britain. The late 19^th century was the dawning of a new era in world history, The Modern Age had begun. With the new age came new ideas of political freedom and revolution.

On this day in 1836, the Texans proclaimed their independence from Mexico. Independence, for the Texans, did not come without a fight as the Mexican American War followed shortly there after. After the death and turmoil of war was over, America made tremendous gains from their victory as they acquired three new territories called Arizona, Oklahoma, and New Mexico, where in 1867 the Congress of the United States declared these, Free states of America.

Yet, half a world away in Africa, on the same day and almost at the same time, men and women were fighting for the same kind of political freedom that was being fought for in America. March 2 1836, the Battle of Aduwa took place in Ethiopia. The Ethiopian army defeated the occupying Italians who had been there for two decades. Hundreds of Ethiopian men fought tooth and nail in their own streets to defeat the Italians. The liberating forces established a new democratic government which is still in power today.

On this day in history 1956, Morocco tore up the Treaty of Fez and declared its independence from France, making Morocco and its people a sovereign nation once again. France being an already weakened world power, only put up a small fight against the Moroccans who had taken up arms. The people of Morocco rose up in with their arms to usurp their freedom from France, just as the Americans did, and just as the Ethiopians did.

Having said all this, I would like to reiterate the point that political freedom is something all people deserve. No matter their race, their creed, their skin color, or their status in society. The revolutions I spoke of seem so far away and unfamiliar to us. We study them in our history books, we see them gloriously remade in movies, and we learn about them on television but the fact of the matter is, their are still people all over the world still fighting for their political freedom, just as the Americans did, just as the Ethiopians did, and just as the Moroccans did.

It is really heartbreaking to understand these things that happened in our world history. Leader’s of country’s tyrannizing others with wars, corruption, and death for no real reason. We are all human on this planet, regardless of what we look like, the language we speak, the religion we practice, or what we like to do we are all human and unfortunately there are some people on this planet that feel they are superior to others. They think they can go around killing their fellow man. All humans deserve the chance, as our fore fathers once said, for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

In 1931, Sterling Brown wrote a poem which beautifully depicts the idea of independence. Freedom and democracy are wonderful things that our great nation has bestowed upon us. The Founding Fathers began the preservation of our independence on this day 232 years ago. Brown tells us a story of what it is like to not have political freedom and independence in his poem entitled, ‘Strong Men”.

They dragged you from homeland,

They chained you in coffles,

They huddled you spoon-fashion in filthy hatches,

They sold you to give a few gentlemen ease.

They broke you in like oxen,

They scourged you,

They branded you,

They made your women breeders,

They swelled your numbers with bastards. . . .

They taught you the religion they disgraced.

They point with pride to the roads you built for them,

They ride in comfort over the rails you laid for them.

They put hammers in your hand

And said Drive so much before sundown.

They cooped you in their kitchens,

They penned you in their factories,

They gave you the jobs that they were too good for

They tried to guarantee happiness to themselves

By shunting dirt and misery to you.

They bought off some of your leaders

You stumbled, as blind men will . . .

They coaxed you, unwontedly soft-voiced. . . .

You followed a way.

Then laughed as usual.

They heard the laugh and wondered;

Uncomfortable,

Unadmitting a deeper terror. . . .

The strong men keep a-comin’ on

Gittin’ stronger. . . .

What, from the slums

Where they have hemmed you,

What, from the tiny huts

They could not keep from you

What reaches them

Making them ill at ease, fearful?

Today they shout prohibition at you

“Thou shalt not this”

“Thou shalt not that”

“Reserved for whites only”

You laugh.

One thing they cannot prohibit

The strong men . . . coming on

The strong men gittin’ stronger.

Strong men. . . .

Stronger. . . .

My favorit Blog

I liked Mastersloth’s blog page the best. In most of his poems he actually went outside the blog and researched things about both the poet he was writing about and the poem. His blog’s are detailed and very informative. I really enjoy the variety with his poems too. Some people, like myself, found all Robert Frost poems or all poems from one author. His blog’s were always delightful to read and he wrote quite intelligently. It seems like he took lots of time with his blog posts to make them the spectacular pieces of literature that they are.

Into My Own by Robert Frost

One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as ’twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto th eedge of doom.

I should not be withheld but that some day
into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.

I do not see why I should e’er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.

They would not find me changed from him the knew–
Only more sure of all I though was true.

<!– /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:”"; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} –>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:”";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-ansi-language:#0400;
mso-fareast-language:#0400;
mso-bidi-language:#0400;}

This poem by Robert Frost is about a journey which the narrator takes someone. It seems evident that the narrator is escaping something which he is not happy with. As he walks through the forest he describes the things that he sees. It is interesting to see that the narrator chooses the scary uncomfortable things over his alternative, which would be to turn back and return to the place he left. He says in stanza three “I do not see why I should e’er turn back,”. Not only does he not wish to return but he wants no one from his past life to ever go to find him or seek him out. A very sad poem.

Attention by Saadi Youssef “The mountain memory”

st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
<!– /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:”"; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} –>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:”";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-ansi-language:#0400;
mso-fareast-language:#0400;
mso-bidi-language:#0400;}

Attention by Saadi Youssef

Those who come by me passing,
I will remember them,
and those who come heavy and overbearing,
I will forget.
This is why
when air gushes between mountains
we describe the wind
and forget the rocks.

I think what is trying to be said here is that people and things we do not want to remember will be forgotten. That is why Youssef uses rocks as something one does not remember. They are hard, uncomfortable, with the exception of polished rocks they are ugly, and they are everywhere. Nobody is going to remember a particular rock. When people come on to strong when they first meet someone, they become undesirable because it appears they are trying to hard. There is a certain desired that is required first that makes a relationship work. When someone is hiking through the mountains on a warm summer day, they desire a breeze. This poem reminds me of hiking which I do a lot of. One particular mountain came to mind, Mt. Washington. This is the tallest mountain the northern White Mountains and the last half mile or so is nothing but a huge pile of granite rocks. They all are green and ugly and they all look the same.

I like this poem because it delivers both a nice read and a message. The message is that if we want people to like us, we have to be like the wind and give nice feelings rather than the rock, which gives unpleasant feelings.

Dust of Snow by: Robert Frost How to change your mood in winter.

Dust of Snow by: Robert Frost

The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued. I am very happy to have found this poem. I am a person who likes the rain and the snow and this poem describes people I make fun of. Those people are the ones who say things like “Ug it raining so I am in a bad mood” Well I have news for them, rain is what gives us life and snow is just cold rain. What I usually try to explain to people is that there cannot be a good without evil, sad without happy, sunshine without rain, or pleasure without pain. In other words, it cannot be sunny everyday, else we would not have so much joy out of those beautiful fall days. In this poem, Frost really captured these feelings for me. Whether we know it or not, poetry connects something in our brains that gives us a memory. Two seconds into this poem and I remembered watching all the people be sad on a rainy day while I had a smile on my face in excitement for the next sunny day.

Another Great Robert Frost Poem entittled “Good Hours”

<!– /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:”"; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} –>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:”";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-ansi-language:#0400;
mso-fareast-language:#0400;
mso-bidi-language:#0400;}

I had for my winter evening walk–
No one at all with whom to talk,
But I had the cottages in a row
Up to their shining eyes in snow.

And I thought I had the folk within:
I had the sound of a violin;
I had a glimpse through curtain laces
Of youthful forms and youthful faces.

I had such company outward bound.
I went till there were no cottages found.
I turned and repented, but coming back
I saw no window but that was black.

Over the snow my creaking feet
Disturbed the slumbering village street
Like profanation, by your leave,
At ten o’clock of a winter eve.

This is one of my favorite poems of all time. Frost describes, in great detail, the simple pleasures of life. In this particular poem, Frost describes the simple pleasure of having a night time walk through the snow. The tricky part here is to understand what Frost is actually talking about. In my opinion there are no other people he sees, as describes in stanza 2. This is the beauty of the human mind Frost writes about at this point. The third line of stanza one Frost says, “But I had the cottages in a row, up to their shinning eyes in snow.” What he describes here is the extreme silence of the town he is trekking though this night. What happens next is his imagination takes over and creates a memory which is dear to him.

As the narrator walks through the town, he glimpses into the windows of the cottages, seeing the families inside. He loves the sight of the happiness so much he walks past the edge of town. This is why I believe that he is using his imagination. He sees into all theses homes and hears the violin playing all at 10pm? This seems a little off. To his dismay, on his return trip, the lights are off and the curtains are closed. The last house he saw would at least still have people in it which gives me another inclination that the narrator was envisioning people. As if the street was a living breathing thing, Frost says in the last stanza, “Over the snow my creaking feet, Disturbed the slumbering village street, Like profanation, by your leave, At ten o’clock of a winter eve.”

When I was younger, my parents rescued a grey hound from a shelter in Seabrook. A couple nights a week, my father and I would strap on the snow shoes and walk through the Andover Country Club with the dog during the cold winter months. Walking in the winter time, late at night is a very eerie event. It is like the world is sleeping and there is no one else alive accept you company, the dull conversation, or the crackling of the snow shows, nothing except complete silence can be heard. It is a wonderful thing to let your mind entertain you instead of the electronics we pride ourselves on today.

Acquainted with the Night by: Robert Frost. The Meaning

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain — and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
O luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Let me start by saying that I love the three line rhyme schemes Frost uses in this poem. I love, especially, when the first and third lines rhyme. I really makes the poem easier to read. I always enjoy reading poems that rhyme more than not.

I like this poem because it is very descriptive.  The narrator is on a night time walk through a big city. The poem reminds me of Boston, at night, after a Red Sox game. In the second stanza, I see the narrator walking past a homeless man and instead of giving him change that was in his pocket, he avoided eye contact and continued on his way. “I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.” It is the watchmen Frost uses to depict the homeless musician. In the next stanza, Frost writes about the sounds of the city at night. Unfortunately cities do contain a large amount of crime and Frost describes what it is like to hear evil going on in the city.”I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street.”

The poem reminded me about going to Red Sox games with my father as a young child. Those games would end at 12 am sometimes, and dad would hold my hand very tight, and the whole way to the subway he would give me the “dont talk to strangers” speach. As we would trek through the city streets with all other 40,000 fans, there were street performers everywhere. Sometimes they were quite good too. This poem reminded me of those times that I had with my father. That is what poetry does for me. It reminds me of good times and bad times, even though sometimes the poems theme is totally irrelevent to what I am remembering.

“A Peck of Gold” by: Robert Frost, the sight of a child

st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
<!– /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:”"; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:”Times New Roman”; mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} –>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:”";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-ansi-language:#0400;
mso-fareast-language:#0400;
mso-bidi-language:#0400;}

A Peck of Gold
by: Robert Frost

Dust always blowing about the town,
Except when sea-fog laid it down,
And I was one of the children told
Some of the blowing dust was gold.

All the dust the wind blew high
Appeared like gold in the sunset sky,
But I was one of the children told
Some of the dust was really gold.

Such was life in the Golden Gate:
Gold dusted all we drank and ate,
And I was one of the children told,
‘We all must eat our peck of gold’.

This poem is a deep look into the mind of a child and the difference in what an adult sees compared to what a child sees. I for one can picture what it looks like to see cloud of dust rise up to the sun, and all the colors it makes. As a child I remember revering at the sight of the dust on the baseball fields. The colors the dust would turn, depending on the time of day, were always quite nice to me. The entertaining part however only became evident to me after I read this poem. All the parents in the stands and even the coaches would be squinting, coughing, and cursing the retched dust that was plaguing there Little League Baseball enjoyment.

Frost also throws a lot of symbolism in the poem, which I particularly enjoy. He paints a picture for you with his words. The interesting part is that he paints more than one picture with the same words. For example, I see both an old western town before the Civil War error, a reference to California during the gold rush of 1949, and a reference to death and the Golden Gates of heaven. This can make a poem great because depending on the mindset the reader is in, he will see a particular picture that was painted.

“The Sentence” A poem on the relationship by Anna Akhmatova

The Sentence by Anna Akhmatova

And the stone word fell

On my still-living breast.

Never mind, I was ready.

I will manage somehow.

Today I have so much to do:

I must kill memory once and for all,

I must turn my soul to stone,

I must learn to live again—

Unless . . . Summer’s ardent rustling

Is like a festival outside my window.

For a long time I’ve foreseen this

Brilliant day, deserted house.

To me, the best poems are the ones a person can relate to. I can seriously relate to this one. If I may be a little personal, this is exactly how I felt after I broke up with my fiancé. We had dated for about 5 years. To go from having someone there for you ever day to having nothing was a very hard transition for me. This poem depicts the beginning, middle, and end of the breakup and healing process.

Stanza number one reminds me of how I felt on the way to her house when I had planned on breaking up with her. The constant smattering of thoughts hitting me in the heart as I drove was soul devouring. As I approached her house, I was ready as Akhmatova says. The poem transitions immediately to after the moment of break up and the departure. “I will manage somehow”, this is what it felt like to be walking back to the car, realizing that she was gone, and I was alone. Yes it was my choice, but the very unfamiliar feeling of loneliness does strange things to a man.

Next, the poem divulges into the healing process. Forgetting is the hardest part. Everything reminded me of her. Car rides, school, and even my own room. “I must kill the memory once and for all”, that is the hardest part. And Akhmatova is right; the only way to get over it is to “turn my soul to stone”. Then Akhmatova concludes with a beautiful line, Brilliant day, deserted house. This line, to me, signifies the end of the healing and the beginning of the path to true happiness. The house or heart is empty. The character in the poem realizes that having an empty house or heart as I like to think of it, is a good thing. Now one can search for their true happiness.

One of my other favorite things about this poem is the lack or rhyming. I know some would disagree, but I think almost anyone can make a few lines rhyme. Akhmatova makes beautiful words and beautiful lines without rhyming; now that takes talent.

“We Real Cool” Death and how to cope with it

Gwendolyn Brooks “We Real Cool”

We Real Cool. We

Left school. We

Lurk late. We

Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We

Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We

Die soon.

This is probably the worst poem I have ever read. That was until I read the remarks John Ulrich made on this poem and had a revisit to a person of the past. As one could guess, this poem is about the lives of teenagers who fall of the band wagon of life. This poem brings a message to all the kids who try so desperately to fit in with the “popular kids” by doing all the things Brooks describes in her short poem. Staying out late, drinking, dropping out of school, and partying.

Ulrich wrote about this poem and how it deeply affected his life. He was in a circle of both drug related deaths and suicides before he was out of high school. Upwards of 12 people perished who were in close proximity with him. Ulrich said, “this was quite depressing as one can imagine”, and I am sure it was. After reading this poem, he had a real revelation about death and the causes of death. It helped him cope.

For me, I thought of my cross country coach in high school. Peter O’sullivan was an inspiration to all of his students and all of his runners. He influenced my thoughts and feelings on life on numerous occasions throughout my high school career. When I learned that he had a heart attack and died while running, my heart was and is permanently broken. Coach never did any of the things in this poem, as he was a 65 year old man, but the poem preaches what he used to preach. “If you want to be something in this life, stay in school, don’t abuse alcohol, and believe that there is a God, you do not need to be cool to succeed”. Thus the title of the poem reminded me of him.