Poem Theme Help!!!...newbie...bluebird...machine gun...radio with guts.... (1 Viewer)

I'm trying to understand the themes for the following (3) poem. I just discovered Bukowski while investigating a poety assignment for my interpretive reading class. I choose him because his poems captured me. I have to write (1) paragraph on the theme of each poem. They were my favorites. Can someone help? Thanks

1) "Bluebird" (long version)

2) "back to the machine gun"

3) "A Radio with Guts"
 
Why don't you post the paragraph you will write about each poem, and we can
take a look at what you write, and make comments on them?

Sound fair?
 
1) "Bluebird" (long version) Analysis...I think this poem is about how most men are unwilling to show their emotions and tend to keep things inside. Men wrestle with our emotions within our own mind and do not show them in even our most private times.

2) "back to the machine gun" Analysis...this poem is about a man that feels like everything is pilling up or time is running out so he is going to do what he does best and write. He finds liberation in writing.

3) "A Radio with Guts" Analysis...this peom is about a man who throws a radio out the window everytime he gets drunk and breaks the window. He is amazed that the radio keeps playing even after the window breaks. So he keeps throwing it out day after day. It turns out that he is really enjoys watching the lady in the garden. I'm really clueless on this one!!!
 
First things first.

I went ahead and merged the two posts you had into this one post.
That's okay, right?

Next, I'll make some comments and stuff.
 
1) "Bluebird" (long version) Analysis...I think this poem is about how most men are unwilling to show their emotions and tend to keep things inside. Men wrestle with our emotions within our own mind and do not show them in even our most private times.


There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out, but I'm too tough for him. I say, stay in there, I'm not going to let anybody see you.

There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out, but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks never know that he's in there.

There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out, but I'm too tough for him. I say, stay down, do you want to mess me up? You want to screw up the works? You want to blow my book sales in Europe?

There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out, but I'm too clever. I only let him out at night sometimes when everybody's asleep. I say, I know that you're there, so don't be sad. Then I put him back, but he's singing a little in there. I haven't quite let him die and we sleep together like that with our secret pact and it's nice enough to make a man weep.

But I don't weep. Do you?
- Charles Bukowski

2) "back to the machine gun" Analysis...this poem is about a man that feels like everything is pilling up or time is running out so he is going to do what he does best and write. He finds liberation in writing.

back to the machine gun

I awaken about noon and go out to get the mail
in my old torn bathrobe.
I'm hung over
hair down in my eyes
barefoot
gingerly walking on the small sharp rocks
in my path
still afraid of pain behind my four-day beard.

the young housewife next door shakes a rug
out of her window and sees me:
"hello, Hank!"

god damn! it's almost like being shot in the ass
with a .22

"hello," I say
gathering up my Visa card bill, my Pennysaver coupons,
a Dept. of Water and Power past-due notice,
a letter from the mortgage people
plus a demand from the Weed Abatement Department
giving me 30 days to clean up my act.

I mince back again over the small sharp rocks
thinking, maybe I'd better write something tonight,
they all seem
to be closing in.

there's only one way to handle those motherfuckers.

the night harness races will have to wait.
- Charles Bukowski

3) "A Radio with Guts" Analysis...this peom is about a man who throws a radio out the window everytime he gets drunk and breaks the window. He is amazed that the radio keeps playing even after the window breaks. So he keeps throwing it out day after day. It turns out that he is really enjoys watching the lady in the garden. I'm really clueless on this one!!!


A Radio With Guts

it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
still playing
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
still playing-
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.
- Charles Bukowski
 
radio...has a bit of a sisyphus (sp?) vibe to it. the same task everyday.

sisy-rolling a rock up the hill, only to have it roll down. repeat.

buk/chinaski-throwing radio drunkenly out the window, repairing window. repeat.

albert camus suggested that although sisy. seemed doomed, he may have taken the time to look at the view from the top of the hill before going back down to get the rock. maybe not a moment of joy, but perhaps peace, serenity.

buk's moment of serenity (or whatever) was staring at the woman gardening in her b. suit.

the glow in the gloom of the routine.

maybe, I dunno.
 
Thanks...I've never studied poetry before and his poems just really capture my interest. I see that there are a number of videos on youtube about Bukowski. This man is so good. I never thought I would enjoy poetry so much.
 
Thanks...I've never studied poetry before and his poems just really capture my interest. I see that there are a number of videos on youtube about Bukowski. This man is so good. I never thought I would enjoy poetry so much.

I'm afraid that's the way it starts.
 
I like where you are going with bluebird, so I won't comment there. The
assignment is yours, after all. ;)

I liked what hoochmonkey9 wrote about radio, so I'll let that sit.

What is it about back to the machine gun which draws you to it?

Is there. . .
man against man?
man against nature?
man against machine?
all three?

Think a little bit. What first drew you to that particular poem?
I'd be curious to know exactly, if you could comment.
 
It love this part. Great writing...

"I mince back again over the small sharp rocks
thinking, maybe I'd better write something tonight,
they all seem
to be closing in."

It like he is just living his life and the pressures of society/man are building up to the point that he now has to do something about it. Writing is his way of freeing himeself from the pressure and responsibilities of soceity. It would likely also be a way for him to make some money. I'm sure I'm missing something, but that is want I was thinking...
 
So, then your paragraph would be sort of like this?

The pressures of society/man are building up to a point where he now has to do
something. Writing is his way of being responsible to his obligations to society.


When I was a potter, throwing clay for a living, my mentor asked me to sit
down and listen to her tell me about something.

I know it's fun to make things out of clay, she said. But there will come a time
when you realize that you have bills. There will be rent to pay, the electricity,
garbage. You will have to set aside fun, and get to work.

I thought she was crazy. Fuck work. I'll just have fun.

Guess what?
 
It's a interesting assignment. I have to read all (3) poems in class and also write a brief analysis of each poem. I look forward to reading more of Bukowski's work. Thanks...
 
I think in bluebird a part of him was actually happy. Happy with his life at that time. but he was forced to hide it, to bury it. How could he write about happy? How could his audience associate him with his work if they knew he was happy? So he hid it from everyone, only acknowledging it enough to remain happy inside.
 

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