Blue Colonial: :Colonial Blue

            I wasn’t able to obtain a copy of David Roderick’s Blue Colonial, but I came across the title poem online somewhere. At first glance, I was immediately skeptical that I would enjoy this poem. As I’ve been writing more and reading more poetry, I’ve been beginning to realize what kind of poems appeal to me, which are those that retain a constant stanza structure and have very few words. Though “Blue Colonial” is good on the first criterion, I was reluctant to keep reading once I saw the poem because of how lengthy it was. As I continued reading, it felt more like a short story with some weird little bits rather than an actual poem. However, Roderick was able to capture my attention and respect towards the halfway mark of the poem when he reminisces about the incident at Billington Lake: “This was near Billington Lake, where a girl once plunged through the ice. She'd been trapped for hours before her body was pulled from its frozen zone. When her brain thawed, she told about a vision she had, how everything she touched, living or dead, spun into a string of light.” This is the only part of the poem that I like besides the last line, “I remember the trees by their shadows.” The section about Billington Lake utilizes proper prose, but there is something insanely beautiful about it. So, I went and looked up another one of Roderick’s works, only to realize that “Blue Colonial” is actually not representative of his style as a poet. With that in mind, I think that “Blue Colonial” is effective in its purpose, which is to recall all of the adventures and so-called “catastrophes” that Roderick had as a child. His poem resembles the way one might reminisce about his or her childhood, thinking “Oh, that happened. Oh, and that. We did that over there” and on and on. His poem also completes a second purpose, which is to pay homage to this “Blue Colonial” that he seems to “keep [him] frozen.”  

            I think one of Roderick’s strongest points as a poet is his ability to create certain metaphors that are very poignant, but still make sense. Take these phrases for instance: “monotonous shingles,” “carboniferous smell,” or “temporary flowers.” Each of these phrases seem like they are one of a kind, but they aren’t at all confusing. It would be inappropriate to say that this applies to all of Roderick’s writing, but he doesn’t seem like he would ever put two different distinct images together to create a semi-obscure metaphor, like “two-eyed door knob.”

            All in all, I’m glad that I happened upon or was assigned this poem because it has allowed me to digress from more traditional forms of poetry to more prose poetry style. “Blue Colonial” is a good midway point between short story and poetry, and I think it’ll also help my short stories to sound a little more poetic.