Primitive Picnic

I am torn between which poetry book I like better since Ms. Mork said that most people usually prefer one to the other. Billy Collins’s Picnic, Lightning is more straight-forward and has a more comical air to it, while Mary Oliver’s American Primitive has more description and seems more poetic to me. However, I do not read poetry often so I shouldn’t label poems as more poetic than any others; I’m not even sure if there can be any boundaries on the style of poetry. Still, what appealed to me about Mary Oliver was her topic choice—the symbolism of nature, and lessons about love, life, and death.

The theme of death is prevalent in both books. In Mary Oliver’s “The Lost Children,” she says, “death has no country” (14). In “Vultures,” she notes, “however ultimately sweet / the huddle of death to fuel / those powerful wings” (38). Death affects everyone, from every color, class, and gender, and I think that is why both authors chose to write about it. But just because death is ever-present does not mean it is frightening; it can be beautiful and powerful.

Billy Collins seems to take a little different point of view. In his poem “Picnic, Lightning,” he describes “the instant hand of Death / always ready to burst forth / from the sleeve of his voluminous cloak” (25). Here death is depicted as an ominous creature. In “Passengers” he appears to be afraid of dying, immediately stating, “I sit […] with the possible company of my death,” though he could just be afraid of flying. Collins does poke fun at death too, highlighted in “Reincarnation and You” where he says, “Once around is enough for me / though whenever you ask / I come up with something, […] trying to make death appear as easy / as you make it sound” (89). Death is a complicated matter.

Complicated is not a word I would use to describe Collins’s writing style. His outspoken descriptions make him a likeable author, as in “the classic crazy-man-crazy face” and how “even the ghosts of ourselves / had to break up their party” (72, 43). His frank speech make him relatable, like when he says, “Go, little poem” or yells at a bee, “’Don’t mess with me / and I won’t mess with you, you little punk’” (71, 92). Collins made me laugh, and I applaud him for trying to discover “Victoria’s Secret” (55). But he didn’t make me contemplate the wonders of life like Mary Oliver did.

Oliver wrote in a style I was more familiar with, using imagery and more of a nostalgic tone. I also liked how some of the poems were arranged in numbered or bulleted sections, or in shapely patterns. A poem I enjoy that uses that pattern is “The Bobcat:” “those lightning eyes! / that dappled jaw! / those plush paws” (16)! Nature was prevalent throughout Oliver’s poems, as well as descriptions of love, and I think that is why she chose to title her book American Primitive.

My favorite poem by Oliver is “In Blackwater Woods” because it teaches me about love, loss, and life. "Every year / everything / I have ever learned / in my lifetime / leads back to this: the fires / and the black river of loss / whose other side / is salvation, / whose meaning / none of us will ever know” (82-23).

While poetry is not one of my favorite things to read, I’m glad that I read both of these books. I didn’t think I would enjoy them as much as I did. Billy Collins’s “Paradelle for Susan” even inspired me to write my own paradelle for my extended journal of Atonement. I am excited to see how discussion turns out and to discover what poem I get to analyze.