Theme Of Fear Of Narrative And The Skittery Poem Of Our Moment By Tony Hoagland

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Tony Hoagland’s poetry is well known for his take on life and his poems have been chosen for the Brittingham Prize of Poetry. In “Fear of Narrative and the Skittery Poem of our Moment” by Tony Hoagland, Hoagland talks about how narrative is out and skittery is in. Meaning that structured and systematic poems are not the norm of our day and age but that fractured and chaotic poems are. Hoagland says, “Our age lacks the structure of a story. Or perhaps it would be closer to say that narrative implies progress and completion.” And with this he is stating that we aren’t capable of writing a structured poem so that’s why we result to writing skittery poems. But structure is what makes up a poem, if a poem is dissembled then how will we know its …show more content…

When reading this poem you see that a husband made a terrible mistake and is wanting back into his wife’s life. The man’s mistake of saying something terrible is now haunting him and eating at him. The man begins to recall how they met and is wondering how things had gotten to this point. Young says, “You want to take back the ugly thing you said, but some shrapnel remains in the wound, some mud.” You start to feel the man’s hatred for what he had done and that he will always live with the mistake he had made. Now whether or not this actually happened to author or not, you pick up on the memory that he is trying to …show more content…

Ruth Stone writes a poem that captures how memories even though they may not be yours but someone else’s can impact a person’s life. Her poem called “The Latest Hotel Guest Walks Over Particles That Revolve in Seven Other Dimensions Controlling Latticed Space” is about a woman who goes to a hotel room, a room that many soldiers who have fought in wars long ago, have also resided in. The poem continues to talk about how the men that have stayed in the room before her are still in the room with her. The remains of their skin and hair follicles are buried deep down in the carpet and mattress. The woman wonders who the soldiers were and what war they could have possibly fought in. Stone says, “Its feet are bandaged with the lint of old sheets. It is the rubbish of all the bodies who sweated here. She composes all of these thoughts of who could have been in the room before her and thinks that if she took little pieces of each soldier she could make a new droid composed of all the men combined. Memories combined or alone make up something

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