Forest Wisdom has a beautiful poem entitled Bleak House topping his blog today. One of the wondrous elements of poetry is the emotion it stirs in the reader. Sometimes, the emotions stirred are compatible with the author's intent; at other times, the emotions stirred run in a different direction. No one direction is the correct direction.
As I read this beautiful poem, my mind settled on the concept of beauty and how it truly is something that is beheld in the eyes of each beholder. What can be downright ugly and grotesque to one person can be beautiful and elegant to another.
For me, beauty comes from simplicity. I am less likely to look favorably on something that is all decked out and gaudy. Give me an object or a scene with simple lines and colors; I'm apt to be slack jawed.
I used to live in Pendleton -- a small town of 10,000 in the high desert of Eastern Oregon. In this area of the country, the predominant color is brown. There is far more sagebrush than trees and the area farms and ranches grow wheat.
Unlike the east and midwest of the US, towns are few and far between. One can travel down portions of I-84 or some of the state highways and not find even a tiny hamlet for 40 or 50 miles. For folks used to seeing trees and lush vegetation everywhere, this part of the country is...shall we say...desolate.
When my wife & I first moved to Pendleton I longed for the greeness of a grove of trees or the flowers of a fragrant bush. Aside from one solitary pine tree in our front yard, the view from the back was of rolling hills of brown -- light brown in the spring and summer followed by a dingier brown in the fall and winter.
In short order, however, I came to love the brown!! It beheld a simplistic beauty all its own. In fact, I began to notice there were other colors too -- gentle and subtle variations. I often would sit on my back porch watching a neighbor's wheat gently bend in the breeze. I sometimes got goosebumps watching sagebrush blow across the fields right up to my back fence.
Today, I live in a lush green paradise near the ocean. I love where I live and plan on retiring here -- Barring something unknown, I will die here. Still, there are days I long for the beauty of the desolated landscape of Eastern Oregon. I long for the stillness and the feeling of aloneness the high desert offers.
As I read this beautiful poem, my mind settled on the concept of beauty and how it truly is something that is beheld in the eyes of each beholder. What can be downright ugly and grotesque to one person can be beautiful and elegant to another.
For me, beauty comes from simplicity. I am less likely to look favorably on something that is all decked out and gaudy. Give me an object or a scene with simple lines and colors; I'm apt to be slack jawed.
I used to live in Pendleton -- a small town of 10,000 in the high desert of Eastern Oregon. In this area of the country, the predominant color is brown. There is far more sagebrush than trees and the area farms and ranches grow wheat.
Unlike the east and midwest of the US, towns are few and far between. One can travel down portions of I-84 or some of the state highways and not find even a tiny hamlet for 40 or 50 miles. For folks used to seeing trees and lush vegetation everywhere, this part of the country is...shall we say...desolate.
When my wife & I first moved to Pendleton I longed for the greeness of a grove of trees or the flowers of a fragrant bush. Aside from one solitary pine tree in our front yard, the view from the back was of rolling hills of brown -- light brown in the spring and summer followed by a dingier brown in the fall and winter.
In short order, however, I came to love the brown!! It beheld a simplistic beauty all its own. In fact, I began to notice there were other colors too -- gentle and subtle variations. I often would sit on my back porch watching a neighbor's wheat gently bend in the breeze. I sometimes got goosebumps watching sagebrush blow across the fields right up to my back fence.
Today, I live in a lush green paradise near the ocean. I love where I live and plan on retiring here -- Barring something unknown, I will die here. Still, there are days I long for the beauty of the desolated landscape of Eastern Oregon. I long for the stillness and the feeling of aloneness the high desert offers.
Still, enjoy the green.
ReplyDeleteHis poem is exquisite, isn't it?
ReplyDelete"One of the wondrous elements of poetry is the emotion it stirs in the reader. Sometimes, the emotions stirred are compatible with the author's intent; at other times, the emotions stirred run in a different direction. No one direction is the correct direction."
: )
Yes, exactly.
This reminded me of a comment I left on my own blog a few days ago...
"Alright, back to the question at hand: what the hell does this poem mean?
1) Not all poems answer a universal question nor have universal appeal.
2) Depending on the mindset of the reader a poem has the potential to help the reader feel understood, or, conversely, it may appear to the reader as a bunch of gobbly-goop nonsense. It ALL depends where the reader is at at THAT MOMENT"
There once was a house that was bleak,
ReplyDeleteIt had been in this state for a week.
It was not quite so youthful, or nearly as useful,
as the curving length of a crow's beak.
Still the house had a story to tell,
If you've read it, you'll know it quite well.
Of a man and his loss, remembering what was,
Where he and his memories could dwell.
Crow,
ReplyDeleteWow. That's an awesome rhyme there.
RT,
You have eloquently written here in praise of simplicity. We're totally on the same page on this one.
Still, I agree with Aspieboy, "Enjoy the green." Just as I will enjoy the lakes and forests here.
tylestri