The fact that the speaker of the poem was in the high grass on a summer day is conveyed without comment, as if it was nothing special but a common occurrence. Stafford eludes to the idea that the choices people make do not always have a positive outcome, even though they are made with the best intentions. I read the poem, and didnt really get what it was about, but then i read the other posts, and read it again, and now i think that this poem is about choices, like the other one. There is physical contact, as the fifteen-year-old helps the owner walk, but in calling the boy a good man, the owner tosses off the sort of impersonal compliment that a young man can expect will please a younger man: it shows courtesy while retaining the emotional distance that alienates the boy. Here, as if vision were touch, the motorcycle seems to reach out to the boy, who draws nearer to take it in hand. Then, in another dimension or mental space, there is the narrator who is the voice of the poem. Stafford was born in 1914 in Hutchinson, Kansas, and grew up in several small towns on the Kansas plains.
It is about that moment when we could turn our backs and walk away from our responsibilities without any immediate, personal repercussions except maybe that pesky conscience thing. The growth of music is used as an example to describe the growth and power of the youth movement in general. He had blood on his hand, was pale— I helped him walk to his machine. But then, he realized that all journeys dont have the best turn out, and that he might get hurt if he doesnt watch out, and re-think how indestructable he really is said. They led the younger generation in a battle for freedom so that African-Americans could have the opportunity to get an education that earlier generations never had the chance to get. The speaker chooses to look for the owner, just coming to, where he had flipped over the rail.
Born in Kansas in 1914, Stafford studied at the University of Kansas and the University of Iowa. Later, he spent many years in Oregon where he taught at Lewis and Clark College, eventually being named Poet Laureate of Oregon in 1975. During his paper route, he and Evangeline ran across one another and talked amongst each other. South of the bridge on Seventeenth I found back of the willows one summer day a motorcycle with engine running as it lay on its side, ticking over slowly in the high grass. The notion of stages on the journey of life is archetypal—the same riddle that the Sphinx, in another tale, posed to young Oedipus. What we do in those moments can tell us a great deal about ourselves.
His gentle quotidian style has been compared to. Beginning with the exotic Antarctica, he still turns quickly to the commonplace with shoulders like bottles, the series of noncommittal adjectives, and the hard-biting wind, reminiscent of all the Midwestern winds of which he writes. I am important to her. A metaphor is a transfer from one domain of knowledge to another. I thik the author is trying to say, that we all have to live our life as much as we can and as easy possible. In the first stanza, Stafford repeatedly… involves visual images, figures of speech, symbolism and themes in order to get a glimpse of the message.
The rational mind takes over and the youth finds the rider. He died the following year. Rather than daydream of freedom, he thinks about the situation and crosses over to responsibility. He ran his hand over it, called me good man, roared away l. I helped him walk to his bike. Roger Safford had been charged with murder for killing a 20-year-old co-worker while working at McDonalds in Muscle… Savage instincts are built within each human and have been found to be the primary source to most of the destruction in the world.
The use of homey language and idiom, the running sentence rhythms and casual throwaway lines, the recurrence of Midwestern locations and characters were all an integral part of the plain-style. Stafford in this poem stays with standard English. He ran his hand over it, called me good man, roared away. Another boy might have imagined showing his discovery off to his friends in order to increase his social standing, or selling it in order to increase his financial standing, but this boy dreams of escaping—leaving his current situation behind and taking his chances with the unknown. Motorcycles were invented in 1865 by German engineer Gottleib Daimler and had always had a small cluster of enthusiasts. Like 's, however, they reveal a distinctive and complex vision upon closer examination. We were alone one night on a long road in Montana.
The fee is the lesser of 15% of the principal, or 15-21% depending on timing of the. What he presents, he presents as an insight, a truth, not merely as an exercise of the imagination. It produces a tension in the poem. I thought about hills, and patting the handle got back a confident opinion. The owner, thrown from the bike in the crash. One of the reasons he admires the poetry of Brother Antoninus William Everson , whose poems he edited in 1967, is that Antoninus also takes seriously that responsibility—to impart not only knowledge, but vision. To think of more than just himself and locate whomever the bike had belonged.
The action all takes place on a mountain road at night. While working in California in 1944, he met and married Dorothy Hope Frantz, with whom he later had four children Bret, who died in 1988; Kim, writer; Kit, artist; Barbara, artist. It is in those moments, without any peer pressure or outside influence, that we make decisions and act based solely on our character and beliefs. Machine This is a rare poem in which machinery is shown in a more positive light than the natural setting around it, possibly because the point of view is that of a fifteen-year-old boy with a narrow range of experiences; he is familiar with nature but new to the wonders of technology. He can never be quite the same again; his imagination has been sent beyond the frame that was his thought and feeling prior to the indulgence. The narrator is speaking to his family or maybe friends and telling them about a tragic accident.