Essay on Real Life

850 Words Apr 11th, 2014 4 Pages
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Poetry Analysis: Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden
Written by Kerry Michael Wood
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Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with his cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.
I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking,
When the rooms were warm, he'd call and slowly I would rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of that house,
Speaking indifferently to him who had driven out the cold and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know of love's austere and lonely offices? In line one the common three-lettered word "too" is packed with meaning. Sunday is the day of rest. A working man should be able to sleep later than on working days. But such was not the case for the man the poet called father.

He rose early and set about the tasks of making the arising of the rest of his family less uncomfortable than it had been for himself. The key images are of cold and heat, and they are rendered visually and audibly. In line two, "blueblack cold" recalls the blue-bottle ice of winter streets in the ghetto neighborhood of Detroit where the poet spent his boyhood.

That coldness expressed more than the room temperature that the father was attempting to ameliorate by stirring banked fires into flame. Such chill also describes the presumptuous and ungrateful

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