The Theme of Identity in Poetry :: Identity Digging Still I Rise The Barn Essays

The Theme of Identity in PoetryThese three poems atomic number 18 all to do with the theme identity although I specifically postulate three that blooded with each other. Digging is portraying the identity of the three generations of digging, his father, granddaddy and himself. Explain how three poems concerned with developing personality,develop their themesFor this essay I will be choosing three poems, which will help mecompargon and contrast how each develop their themes of identity. Thethree I will be choosing are1. DiggingBetween my finger and my flip outthe squat pen rests cubbyhole as a gun.Under my window, a clean rasping hold outwhen the spade sinks into gravely groundMy father, digging. I look down bank his straining rump among the flowerbedsBends low, comes up twenty years byStooping in rhythm through potato drillswhere he was digging.The roughhewn boot nestled on the lug, the shaftagainst the inside knee was levered firmly.He rooted out tall tops, buried the brigh t molding reconditeto scatter new potatoes that we pickedLoving their cool tightness in our hands.By God the old man could handle a spade.Just alike his old man.My grandfather cut more turf in a daythan any other man on Toners bog.Once I carried him milk in a bottleCorked sloppily with paper. He straightened upTo drink it, then fell to right awayNicking and cut neatly, heaving sodsOver his shoulder, going down and downFor the good turf. Digging.The rimed smell of potato mould, the squelch and slapof soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edgethrough living roots awaken in my head.But Ive no spade to follow men like them.Between my finger and my thumbthe squat pen rests.Ill dig with it.2. Still I riseYou may write me down in historywith your bitter, twisted lies,you may tread down me in the very dirt plainly still, like dust, Ill rise.Does my sassiness upset you? wherefore are you beset with gloom?Cause I walk like Ive got crude oil wellspumping in my living room.Just like moons an d like suns,with the deduction of tides,just like hopes springing high,still Ill rise.Did you want to see me broken? arced head and lowered eyes?Shoulders falling down like teardrops. hurt by my soulful cries.Does my haughtiness offend you?Dont you take it awful hardCause I laugh like Ive got gold minesDigging in my own book binding yard.You may shoot me with your words,you may cut me with your eyes,you may kill me with your hatefulness,but still, like air, Ill rise.Does my sexiness upset you?Does it come as a ragethat I dance like Ive got diamonds