yusef komunyakaa
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This One Time, In ‘Nam…. Yusef Komunyakaa. By Alex Ferrer and Gillian Barta. Introduction. Yusef komunyakaa is one of the most prevalent American poets alive today. - PowerPoint PPT PresentationTRANSCRIPT
Yusef Komunyakaa
By Alex Ferrer and Gillian Barta
This One Time, In ‘Nam…
Introduction
• Yusef komunyakaa is one of the most prevalent American poets alive today
Background Information
• Was largely shaped by his experiences in Vietnam and his child- hood
• These became the main topics of his poems
• He used poetry as an escape from his past
Biography
• Born April 29th 1947 in Bogalusa, Louisiana• James William Brown• Oldest of 6 children• “Rustic and bucolic” childhood• Suffered racism (not allowed in
library, KKK, racial violence, etc.)
Biography
• Sent to Vietnam for war • Witnessed terrible events• Was sent back a changed man • Earned a bronze medal for his service
Biography
• Graduated Magna cum Laude from the University of Colorado after his service (graduated in 1975, masters in 1978, and MFA at the University of California)
• Now is a professor• Began to write poetry mainly about his
experiences in Vietnam and after affects
• Dark, gloomy, depressing• Futile tone• Uses tactile, kinesthetic, and visual imagery• Themes of battle and after battle (memorial)• Alludes to Vietnam often • Very political- tends to allude to people or
issues today
Komunyakaa’s Style
Style
• One stanza• Usually narratives• Never rhymes• 1st person• Enjambment• Personification is used throughout
We Never KnowHe danced with tall grass for a moment, like he was swaying with a woman. Our gun barrels glowed white-hot. When I got to him, a blue halo of flies had already claimed him. I pulled the crumbed photograph from his fingers. There's no other way to say this: I fell in love. The morning cleared again, except for a distant mortar & somewhere choppers taking off. I slid the wallet into his pocket & turned him over, so he wouldn't be kissing the ground. • .
Literary Criticism
• “Surprises” • “Fresh and Intriguing” • “Writes like a jazz musician”• “Confronts uncomfortable truths”• “Exhibits a pessimistic outlook on life”
Literary Criticism
• “Predictable”• “Tightly controlled format” • “Progressive and experimental” • “Powerful yet exquisitely sensitive”• “Evokes feelings of tenderness and hope”
We Agree
• “Confronts uncomfortable truths”• “Powerful yet exquisitely sensitive”• “Evokes feelings of tenderness and hope”
Facing itMy black face fades, hiding inside the black granite. I said I wouldn't, dammit: No tears. I'm stone. I'm flesh. My clouded reflection eyes me like a bird of prey, the profile of night slanted against morning. I turn this way--the stone lets me go. I turn that way--I'm inside the Vietnam Veterans Memorial again, depending on the light to make a difference. I go down the 58,022 names, half-expecting to find my own in letters like smoke. .
I touch the name Andrew Johnson; I see the booby trap's white flash. Names shimmer on a woman's blouse but when she walks awaythe names stay on the wall.Brushstrokes flash, a red bird's wings cutting across my stare.The sky. A plane in the sky.A white vet's image floatscloser to me, then his pale eyeslook through mine. I'm a window.He's lost his right arminside the stone. In the black mirrora woman's trying to erase names:No, she's brushing a boy's hair.
We Disagree
• “Predictable”• “Tightly controlled format”• “Exhibits a pessimistic outlook on life”
Fast breaks. Lay ups. With Mercury's Insignia on our sneakers, We outmaneuvered the footwork Of bad angels. Nothing but a hot Swish of strings like silk Ten feet out. In the roundhouse Labyrinth our bodies Created, we could almost Last forever, poised in midair Like storybook sea monsters. A high note hung there A long second. Off The rim. We'd corkscrew Up & dunk balls that exploded The skullcap of hope & good Intention. Bug-eyed, lanky, All hands & feet . . . sprung rhythm.We were metaphysical when girlsCheered on the sidelines.Tangled up in a falling,
Muscles were a bright motor Double-flashing to the metal hoop Nailed to our oak. When Sonny Boy's mama died He played nonstop all day, so hard Our backboard splintered. Glistening with sweat, we jibed & rolled the ball off our Fingertips. Trouble Was there slapping a blackjack Against an open palm. Dribble, drive to the inside, feint, & glide like a sparrow hawk. Lay ups. Fast breaks. We had moves we didn't know We had. Our bodies spun On swivels of bone & faith, Through a lyric slipknot Of joy, & we knew we were Beautiful & dangerous. .
Where is he now?
• In 1989, he married Mandy Sayer, lasting for 10 years
• His new partner, Reetika Vazirani, killed herself and their child
• After teaching at Indiana University and Princeton, he now teaches at New York University