Friday, April 24, 2015

It's conceivable that I could plant something today. The garden is finally clear of snow and beginning to dry out. But the air is stiff and gray and raw . . . March air, not a hint of spring softness. There is nothing sweet in this air, nothing to make a seed want to grow.

I spent a bit of time with Beowulf yesterday. The Geats have "duly arrived [at the Danes' mead hall] / in their grim war-graith and gear"
and, weary from the sea, stacked wide shields
of the toughest hardwood against the wall,
then collapsed on the benches; battle-dress
and weapons clashed.
Yes, for many thousands of years, boys have been stomping into houses, and dropping all of their heavy stuff in a big noisy clatter, and clunking down onto chairs and benches. The next thing these Geats will do is fidget during the old-guy speeches and then eat a ridiculous amount of food.

Why would anyone suggest that this poem is too hard for teenagers? This poem is about teenagers.


Ruth said...


Carlene said...

Lovely insight!! Do we want to talk about this with my Brit Lit kids? They have read some excerpts, and they understand the musicality of the epic...hmmmm

Dawn Potter said...

Sure! I'm at your service, with however you want to structure this class!