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Poems In Those Winter Sundays, By Robert Hayden

Decent Essays

Poems are a style of story-telling, of writing, but they are also an art form. The writers of these tales use many methods to add spectacular drama to every day experiences. Twisting the meaning of words allows the authors to vividly paint a portrait of the moment they’re capturing. In Robert Hayden’s “Those Winter Sundays”, Hayden uses simple words to paint a detailed picture in only a few lines. He shows us not only the bleakness of winter, but highlights how small, daily acts of love are easily forgotten.
We open the poem on a weekend, a Sunday. A day that for most of us is used for leisure, religion, and time with our loved ones. Hayden says, “Sundays to my father got up early / and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,” (768). The use of “blueblack” conveys how severe the cold was in their home. Images of pain are brought to mind, like the blue and black of a deep bruise. His father woke early, and left his warm bed, to fight the deep chill for his family. A labor of love that for which “No one ever thanked him.” (Hayden 768).
“I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.” (Hayden 768). In this line Hayden gives the winter’s cold a more definitive, physical presence. You can imagine his father’s fierce fighting breaking through a thick layer of ice; his labor and love forcing back the threat to his family. The way that you might see a superhero break through a brick wall, his father used his “cracked hands that ached” (Hayden 768), to aggressively fight back

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