The moment I saw those two terrifying words, I knew my agony would begin. Poetry Analysis. My professor handed me instructions for a brand new analytical essay assignment that was meant to be completed within a week. According to my professor’s syllabus, the assignment was predictable. I knew one day this essay would be a challenge for me to face with. I despised reading poems throughout my high school years. Yet, was it a possibility for me to actually adore reading poems? On a cloudy Saturday afternoon, I decided to wake up later than usual. My friendly, vociferous cat usually awakens me early as possible to feed chunks of tuna, canned breakfast to Frescolita and her feline, stray cats. I knew I needed to complete my daily house chores along with my dreadful writing assignment. For some reason, I was afraid to analyze and conclude what I presumed of the poem’s interpretation. What if my interpretation was incorrect? What if I never comprehend the poem? What if my professor
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I followed my index finger as I read the lines out loud. The poem had a strong hook as I imagined the student “with blue hair and a tongued stud…” (1). I automatically assumed the speaker was a rebellious teenager who is privileged. I chuckled slightly when the author mentioned the words “full of shit” (5). I am not used to poets expressing themselves with swear words. I raised my eyebrows curiously when the speaker mentioned his father gushed “not blood but money…” (14). In addition, I rested my neck on my left hand to carefully understand what is going on. I munched my Oreos one by one as I focused reading further the poem. The ending caused my confusion to begin when Hoagland questions his audience, “Which turns the volume higher?’’(35). I did not have one clue what that meant. I had to re-read over four times to understand the concept of the poem
I followed my index finger as I read the lines out loud. The poem had a strong hook as I imagined the student “with blue hair and a tongued stud…” (1). I automatically assumed the speaker was a rebellious teenager who is privileged. I chuckled slightly when the author mentioned the words “full of shit” (5). I am not used to poets expressing themselves with swear words. I raised my eyebrows curiously when the speaker mentioned his father gushed “not blood but money…” (14). In addition, I rested my neck on my left hand to carefully understand what is going on. I munched my Oreos one by one as I focused reading further the poem. The ending caused my confusion to begin when Hoagland questions his audience, “Which turns the volume higher?’’(35). I did not have one clue what that meant. I had to re-read over four times to understand the concept of the poem