"The Weary Blues" by Langston Hughes is exactly what it sounds like, but with an iconic and comedic twist. While reading this poem I got a sense of weariness while it was dictated like it was a sort of a song that felt like the blues with some witty comedy. Through this poem Hughes told a part of a moment in time that can be replayed over and over, or not because of the ironic ending of this poem, "He slept like a rock or a man's that dead."
Through out this whole poem the organization of it was organized in a way that the indented parts were sort of the blues songs that this character sang or felt. Then the diction is very laid back and bluesy like what you think of when you think of New Orleans. The figurative language in this poem is also very exciting to read. When reading this poem you can picture where it is taking place. Hughes's concluding response of "He slept like a rock or a man's that dead," gets me thinking that with great way to living life with such great music you basically can sleep really good.
My mom says that if you had a good day of work or living, you will be sleeping good that night. When I think about sleeping good, I think about not being bothered which means dead sleep for me. I also think that songs that are weary blues they help you fall asleep and that's what Hughes is preparing us for a good sleep.
POETRY
Select a poem from this list (or make a case for a poem of equivalent literary merit). Then select a poetry essay prompt from this list. On your course blog, explain why the prompt fits the poem (feel free to substitute the names of characters, descriptive details etc. in the prompt). Then write your essay. We will have writer's conferences the week of 4/13 as we begin Macbeth. If you want written comments, please print your essay and bring to class 4/13.
1989 Poem: “The Great Scarf of Birds” (John Updike)
Prompt: Write a well-organized essay in which you analyze how the poem's organization, diction, and figurative language prepare the reader for the speaker's concluding response.The Weary Blues
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
He did a lazy sway. . . .
He did a lazy sway. . . .
To the tune o’ those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man’s soul.
O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan—
“Ain’t got nobody in all this world,
Ain’t got nobody but ma self.
I’s gwine to quit ma frownin’
And put ma troubles on the shelf.”
Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more—
“I got the Weary Blues
And I can’t be satisfied.
Got the Weary Blues
And can’t be satisfied—
I ain’t happy no mo’
And I wish that I had died.”
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that’s dead.
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