Here are our Most and Least Favorite Poems of John Updike and what makes them so

Kael's

Most Favorite:

Sonic Boom

I'm sitting in the living room,
When, up above, the Thump of Doom
Resounds. Relax. It's sonic boom.

The ceiling shudders at the clap,
The mirrors tilt, the rafters snap,
And Baby wakens from his nap.

"Hush, babe. Some pilot we equip,
Giving the speed of sound the slip,
Has cracked the air like a penny whip."

Our world is far from frightening; I
No longer strain to read the sky
Where moving fingers (jet planes) fly.
Our world seems much too tame to die.

And if it does, with one more pop,
I shan't look up to see it drop.

 

Least Favorite:

Tao in the Yankee Stadium Bleachers

Distance brings proportion. From here
the populated tiers
as much as players seem part of the show:
a constructed stage beast, three folds of Dante's rose, or a Chinese military hat
cunningly chased with bodies.
“Falling from his chariot, a drunk man is unhurt
because his soul is intact. Not knowing his fall,
he is unastonished, he is invulnerable."
So, too, the “pure man" - “pure"
in the sense of undisturbed water.
 
“It is not necessary to seek out
a wasteland, swamp, or thicket."
The opposing pitcher's pertinent hesitations,
the sky, this meadow, Mantle's thick baked neck
the old men who in the changing rosters see
a personal mutability,
green slats, wet stone are all to me
as when an emperor commands
a performance with a gesture of his eyes. 
 
“No king on his throne has the joy of the dead,"
the skull told Chuang-tzu.
The thought of death is peppermint to you
when games begin with patriotic song
and a democratic sun beats broadly down.
The Inner Journey seems unjudgeably long
when small boys purchase cups of ice
and, distant as a paradise,
experts, passionate and deft,
hold motionless while Berra flies to left.

 

I really enjoy this poem, not because it is short and to the point, but because of how he luminates tactiles things coming to life.  I also like the ease of it rolling off the tongue when saying it aloud, or the alliteration of the poem.  Each stanza has its own rhyme at the end of each line, and thus the rhythm becomes more fluid when reading.  As updike was a sense-driving writer, this poem eludes to the visual aspect, leading it to be one of his great visual poetry pieces.  The poem allows a visceral feeling when reading it, making it relatable to anyone who has been in or around wartime.  Updike has a very unique composure when it comes to his writing.  I also really admire this poem because it is possible that this is one of the few poems where he took seriously.  It feels, when reading it, that he actually felt the pain of war, as this was written in 1963, or that he at least empathized with.  the structure of the poem is precise which allows for an easy read.

 

 

"Tao in the Yankee Stadium Bleachers" is not a bad poem, by any means, but it is just one of the poems that did not strike me to be as memorable as some of Updike's other poetry. I do agree with what I believe Updike is trying to convey, is that there is a fundamental flaw in the ways of sport that we as a human race find desirable to follow.  As the media extracts everything they possibly can from these individuals that many look up to, we find that they have human traits, which some may take as a shock considering many find these sports idols to be "heroes", pure of heart and flawless; in many instances, this is not the case.  After unveiling the truth about what were formally thought of as above-human integritied peoples, others might feel disgusted and discard any relevance they might have to these sports "heroes".  At any rate, the poem is about a visit to a baseball game, in which case, the narrator  portrays the game to a death match.  Although clever the poem is, it is not a memorable one for me. 

 

 

Kim's

Most Favorite:

Saying Goodbye to Very Young Children

They will not be the same next time. The sayings
so cute, just slightly off, will be corrected.
Their eyes will be more skeptical, plugged in
the more securely to the worldly buzz
of television, alphabet, and street talk,
culture polluting their gazes' pure blue.
It makes you see at last the value of
those boring aunts and neighbors (their smells
of summer sweat and cigarettes, their faces                     
like shapes of sky between shade-giving leaves)
who knew you from the start, when you were zero,
cooing their nothings before you could be bored
or knew a name, not even your own, or how
this world brave with hellos turns all goodbye.

 

Least Favorite:

Tao in the Yankee Stadium Bleachers

Distance brings proportion. From here
the populated tiers
as much as players seem part of the show:
a constructed stage beast, three folds of Dante's rose, or a Chinese military hat
cunningly chased with bodies.
 
"Falling from his chariot, a drunk man is unhurt
because his soul is intact. Not knowing his fall,
he is unastonished, he is invulnerable."
So, too, the "pure man" - “pure"
in the sense of undisturbed water.

"It is not necessary to seek out
a wasteland, swamp, or thicket."
The opposing pitcher's pertinent hesitations,
the sky, this meadow, Mantle's thick baked neck,
the old men who in the changing rosters see
a personal mutability,
green slats, wet stone are all to me
as when an emperor commands
a performance with a gesture of his eyes.
 
"No king on his throne has the joy of the dead,"
the skull told Chuang-tzu.
The thought of death is peppermint to you
when games begin with patriotic song
and a democratic sun beats broadly down.
The Inner Journey seems unjudgeably long
when small boys purchase cups of ice
and, distant as a paradise,
experts, passionate and deft,
hold motionless while Berra flies to left.

 

 

      

        Favorite Poem:  Saying Goodbye to very Young Children

I like this poem because it made me remember the best time when I was young in my country, Vietnam, with my friends that I could find some things like that in this new country. Maybe I am still strange and alone with all things around my life, or I could not keep my pace with this new society yet. However, after reading this poem I agree with the author that “They will not be the same next time."  That is why we should live happily and acceptably with what is happening around us because we will not regret anything when we look back in the future. In conclusion, even in the past there were many good and bad things happened to us, they were the best memories that we could not find them again like that exactly in the future.

 

        Worst Poem: Tao in the Yankee Stadium Bleachers

This is a worst poem because I don't like the title of this poem. It looks like the beginning of discrimination between two ethnic groups_ China and America, or between majority group and minority group. Throughout the poem, we could see some cunning imagines that the populated tier enjoyed for fun. They did not care much about the others of death when the game began. On the other hand, we could understand more why these rich people acted like that through the beginning word 'distance' that describe clearly the meaning of discrimination.

 

 

 

Marry's

Most Favorite:A Child's Calendar

January: "The sun a spark/ hung thin between/the dark and dark."

February: "And snipping, snappin, and scisscors, run/ to cut out heart"

March:"The timid earth/decides to thaw"

April: "All things renew, all things begin"

 

 

 

Least Favorite:

1st and 2nd stanza:

How long will our bewildered heirs
marooned in possessions not theirs
puzzle at disposing of these three
cunning feignings of hard candy in glass
the striped little pillowlike mock-sweets,
the flared end-twists as of transparent paper?

No clue will be attached, no trace
of the sunny day of their purchase,
at a glittering shop a few doors
up from Harry's Bar, a disappointing place
for all its testaments from Hemingway.
The Grand Canal was also aglitter
while the lesser canals lay in the shade
like snakes, flicking wet tongues
and gliding to green rendezvous.

 

A Child's Calendar - a collection of brief poems describing a month to month feelings along with illustrations.These brief poems and illustrations give the readers an feeling of celebrating the life of everday and every month. My birth month is March and one of my favorite description of the month is, "The timid earth/decides to thaw." My favorite season of the year is spring, which is the month of April and the poem's description is:"All things renew, all things begin."

 

 

 

Least: I did not like the poem because it did not have rythym or rhyme.  It also repeated itself several times before getting to the point. I liked the title of the poem because it was very catchy, but not the lyrics. Updike could have use the word candy and rhyme it with another word.