The Return by Theodore Roethke
Suddenly the window will open
and Mother will call
it's time to come in
the wall will part
I will enter heaven in muddy shoes
I will come to the table
and answer questions rudely
I am all right leave me
alone. Head in hand I
sit and sit. How can I tell them
about that long
and tangled way.
Here in heaven mothers
knit green scarves
flies buzz
Father dozes by the stove
after six days' labour.
No--surely I can't tell them
that people are at each
other's throats.
This poem is one of Roethke’s worst poems. It is not so much the style in which it was written, rather it is the context and the reality revealed throughout the piece. Using a guilty tone, Roethke reveals the reality and negative behaviors that every living person has. The fifth line, “I will enter heaven in muddy shoes,” shows how ill prepared the speaker is for death. But are we really ever ready for death? We all fall short during many points in life; Roethke’s metaphors and poet words force us to evaluate our lives and feel guilt at a higher level. Maybe my negative reaction to this poem is because I agree too much, to the point I feel shame. Truth hurts I suppose. -CDB
THE SLOTH
In moving-slow he has no Peer.
You ask him something in his Ear,
He thinks about it for a Year;
And, then, before he says a Word
There, upside down (unlike a Bird),
He will assume that you have Heard -
A most Ex-as-per-at-ing Lug.
But should you call his manner Smug,
Hell sigh and give his Branch a Hug;
Then off again to Sleep he goes,
Still swaying gently by his Toes,
And you just know he knows he knows.
Theodore Roethke 1908-1963
Being related to Theodore Roethke, I find it difficult to disignate any one of his poems as " my worst," but this poem, "The Sloth," does remind me of when I am at my worst. My wife is always telling me I need to hurry up, I move to slow. Many times I do not respond to her questions and she thinks I am not listening. She wants me to use my hearing aid. I do not and that irritates her. I "ex-as-per-ate" her. When she gets "ex-as-per-ated," calling me smug, "I'll sigh and give her a big hug." Then off I go to my over stuffed chair and think about what she said, in her ear "for about a year." -RJR
Cuttings by Theodore Roethke
This urge, wrestle, resurrection of dry sticks,
Cut stems struggling to put down feet,
What saint strained so much,
Rose on such lopped limbs to a new life?
I can hear, underground, that sucking and sobbing,
In my veins, in my bones I feel it --
The small waters seeping upward,
The tight grains parting at last.
When sprouts break out,
Slippery as fish,
I quail, lean to beginnings, sheath-wet.
This poem is about the act of taking a piece of one plant to grow an entirely new one, known as cutting. Theodore spent much of his childhood in a greenhouse, so we can understand how he would appreciate the art of cutting. Line one of this poem, “This urge, wrestle, resurrection of dry sticks” seems almost like a spiritual experience. Then in line six, “In my veins, in my bones I feel it,” suggests he is having some kind of spiritual experience. Most of us would not find this to be as moving as Roethke does. Perhaps he was doodling on a scratch piece of paper waiting for his next inspiration. -MSM